Page 12 of Stolen Voices
“Callie.” He says her name slowly as if I’m an idiot. “I need you to personally handle her contracts and be on set with her.”
My eyes bug out of my head, and I find my voice. “No. I can’t.”
“Dude.” Hudson groans. “She’s not what you think. Besides, she’s our biggest client. I love Dez, but Callie needs one of us in her corner. I need you to watch over her, Eli. And don’t be a dick to her.”
Dropping my chin to my chest, I rub my temples, easing the mounting tension in my head. I can’t help being a dick when I’m around Callie. She throws me off center, and my default setting gets switched to “asshole” around her.
“I’m not a dick to her.”
“Yes, you are. I need you to do this for me. I don’t ask for much. She’s our most important client, and you know it. I need you to run point while I’m gone.”
Deep down, I know Hudson is right.
There are some clients that need more attention, especially on the music side of things. But Calliope fucking Wright isn’t your average client. She’s a shining star. A young, beautiful, shiny star.
And the bane of my existence. She’s been a problem since the day I met her.
Met her or caught her?
I fight the urge to growl at my inner thoughts. Instead, I turn my attention back to Hudson. “She has a personal manager. Why does she need one of us to take care of her?”
“Have you met the dragon lady? Silla’s fucking nuts, man. There is some weird dynamic between her and Callie. I haven’t figured it out yet. Maybe if you spend time with Callie—watch her—you will figure it out for me. I’d really like to get rid of the witch.”
That’s the problem. I don’t want to watch Callie. I don’t want to figure her out. I want to stay far away from the woman with the captivating eyes so dark they look like a starless sky.
“What’s that face?” Hudson points his index finger at me and waves it around.
I straighten in my seat and take a sip of water. “There was no face. I obviously have no choice, so catch me up.”
My best friend doesn’t bite. He knows me well enough to see I’m deflecting. “Oh, there was a face.”
“Hud,” I deadpan.
Hudson stares back at me. I have three brothers, so this is an easy win for me.
He breaks contact first. “Fine. You win. Callie is recording a few new songs and will start her West Coast tour in September. It’s a brief run because I don’t think she’s ready for a full US tour, let alone a world tour like Silla wants. I had to battle that botoxed crone on this. She wants Callie out there all day, every day.” He mumbles something about money under his breath that I can’t quite make out.
“Then what do you need me for? Shouldn’t she be busy with rehearsals and recording tracks?” I ask, hoping I can get out of babysitting duty.
“I need you at the sessions and rehearsals, doing that thing you do.”
“What thing?”
“People watching. Reading everyone in the room. Watching Callie’s every move when you think no one is looking.”
“I don’t watch her every move. I barely notice her,” I grumble.
Hudson chuckles. “Keep telling yourself that, man.”
His words hit too close to the truth. Ignoring his comment, I continue, “I’m not a fucking babysitter. Send an intern to watch and report back.”
“If I thought an intern could do this, would I have come to you?” he asks, eyebrows raised.
“No.” I bristle. He wouldn’t.
“Alright, then. Take your fucking laptop and phone. I have a table set up near the water station, or I sit in front of the stage. Rehearsals are at The Ricochet Lounge, seven sharp. Recording sessions begin at four at Pink Pony Studios. I need you out there watching Callie’s every move. Something is going on, and I want to know what it is. And don’t let her sign anything Silla gives her without looking at it.” The concern in Hudson’s voice piques my interest.
Sign what? What is he not seeing that he thinks I can? I want to ask, but I have a feeling he is purposefully being vague.
