Page 285 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

Callista doesn’t want this deal to go through. Raymond does, blinded by the dollar signs. If I pull this off for her, it’s a chance to redeem myself, earn the artists’ trust back and gain a level of respect with the board.

“Callie, I need you to trust me,” I tell her, a slight plea. We’ve done midnights in the studio together, bared our souls at three in the morning, built songs out of pain, left pieces of ourselves between the bars.

Drugs and depression stole her boyfriend.

The silence tried to take her, too⁠—

But she sang back.

She fuckin’ sang back.

And now she’s scared.

Even though she’s nodding,

still trusting me.

“I have a plan,” I insist.

(I absolutely do not have a plan.

But I will.)

I hug her to hide the truth.

“I’m working on a song that’s perfect for you,” I add, pulling away. “I want to get a live session set up. You down?”

Declan slides out his phone.

“Yeah, I’ll get it on the calendar.”

That numb follows me home.

Behind the windshield, I’m a ghost as a long, red streak of brake lights stretches in front of me.

I drive on muscle memory, two hands on the steering wheel, the sad plant back in the passenger seat.

My head’s a Ferris wheel of Hell Week:

Honor breaking for a stripper,

Ben breaking my skin open,

Andrew breaking Ben’s face,

Bianca breaking the internet.

They all broke.

And so did I.

We’re all a collection of fractured things now.

I hit the call button on the steering wheel.

Bianca picks up after the second ring.

“Allison? Got a lot of nerve callin’ me.”