7. Calla
SEVEN
CALLA
Unfortunately, my quick coffee pit stop spread like wildfire through the gossip sites. Who knew that wanting to get a simple cup of coffee before going to the studio would be so important to everyone?
I guess I should’ve known. Maybe in the back of my mind, I did, but I didn’t care enough for it to be important. I just wanted to see what it felt like to be normal for once. I always see people stopping to get coffee in the mornings on their way to work and wanted to try it. I just wanted a small glimpse into what life would be like if I hadn’t chosen this path.
By the time I get out of the studio after hours of recording and look at my phone, I have several texts from Brayden along with a link for an article titled:
Calla James cozies up with mystery man.
Trouble in Paradise with Sledge?
The article is accompanied by a picture of me and Luke at the coffee shop. His hand is around my waist, and I’m smiling up at him. We look better together than I expected. Luke, of course, isn’t smiling, but he isn’t scowling at me like he usually is. And it does look slightly couple-y.
If only they had pictures from earlier when he looked like I was torturing him by asking a few questions about himself. I’ve never seen anyone look more uncomfortable talking to me.
Truthfully, I had a mostly sleepless night. My brain would not stop working. Between Brayden and my parents trying to rush the next album to taking my time off away and now Thompson…
I don’t even know what’s going on with Thompson. I feel like we’re always on different pages these days. I’m leaving for my tour soon, but we’ve barely spent any time together. I’m starting to question my feelings and I hate that.
Luke drives us back to my house in silence. I wonder if he’s seen the pictures and is mad about them. I don’t ask, though. It was awkward enough that he was the only person I could take with me on my very minuscule outing. How sad is it that Calla James has no friends to get coffee with? Maybe that’s what the articles should’ve read.
When we get to my house, Luke does his checks, like always, and then goes to the security room to review tapes or whatever the hell he does in there.
I call Brayden back because he’s probably shitting bricks since I haven’t responded to any of the fifty texts he sent me over the last three hours.
“Hey!” I say in my cheeriest tone when he answers. If I pretend like nothing is wrong, everything will be fine, right?
“Don’t ‘hey’ me. What the hell is going on with the bodyguard?” he asks, cutting right to chase. I knew he’d recognize Luke in the pictures.
I roll my eyes. “Oh, jeez. Nothing. We stopped for coffee on the way to the studio this morning.”
“Can’t you order your coffee and have it fucking delivered? And the studio called me this morning to let me know you were late. We’re not paying a shit ton of money for you to just come and go as you please, Calla.”
Wow. I can’t believe they narc’d on me. I never use my name or fame purposefully to get things, but what’s the point of being Calla James if I can’t even run a little late because I wanted a coffee?
“I was running behind today, that’s all. Won’t happen again.”
“It better not. The label pays a lot of money for that studio time. I’m sure they’d be pissed to know you were wasting it.”
Yeah, well, I also make the label a lot of money, so I think they’ll be just fine.
But I don’t say that. I can’t always bring myself to say what I’m truly thinking. Ever, actually. It’s starting to get embarrassing.
“Sorry, won’t happen again.” I cringe as I say it, hating myself for not being able to stand up for myself.
“Better not. So, what’s up with the bodyguard. Are you sleeping with him? If so, I have to issue a statement.” He sounds annoyed about actually having to do his job.
“Of course I’m not sleeping with him. I’m with Thompson,” I say like that should be explanation enough. Because it normally would be.
“Calla, don’t be so naive. That means nothing in Hollywood. If you’re fucking the bodyguard, just tell me so I know how to spin this.” My stomach sours as he says it. I know I would never cheat, but would Thompson? Has Thompson? We hardly ever have sex anymore, and I can’t deny that I’ve wondered a time or two if he was getting it somewhere else. It makes me want to throw up just thinking about it.
“No, I’m not sleeping with him. Luke and I stopped for coffee. I accidentally bumped into him, and he stopped me from falling on my face in front of a bunch of people.”
“What a nice guy,” he says sarcastically. “Well, I’ve had a shit show of cleaning up to do today because he put his fucking arm around you.”
I roll my eyes and attempt to take a deep breath to calm down. “If anyone can make it go away, Bray, it’s you. That’s why they pay you the big bucks.” And by they, I mean me. I pay him the big bucks. He might need to remember that.
He gives me an angry sigh through the phone. “Just try not to do anything else stupid this week, please.”
“Yes, sir.” I didn’t realize that doing one thing for myself would spiral so far out of control.
We end the call and I pull up my text message thread from Thompson. I was hoping there’d be something, but I haven’t gotten anything since yesterday morning.
Once again, I text him first.
Calla: Hey! Hope you’re having a good day. Did you see the pictures? Totally crazy and blown way out of proportion.
Thompson: Yeah babe. No biggie. Good sesh today?
Really? That’s all I’m going to get from him?
Calla: Yeah. It was good. Got half of a song recorded.
Thompson: I’m sure it’s fire.
I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and sit down at my very empty kitchen island. My butt is barely on the bar stool when Luke comes storming in.
“What is this shit?” he asks, holding out his phone. I can just see the headline on a popular gossip website.
I shrug. “Rumors?”
“Calla, you were acting fucking weird all morning. You were late to your recording session when you haven’t been late to a single thing since I’ve been here. And then you made us sit and have coffee? And ask me questions about myself?”
“Technically, we didn’t have coffee. You didn’t want any, so only I had coffee.”
“That’s not the point.” He pauses before he says what he really wants to say. “Did you plan this? Did you know people would take a picture like this?”
“Luke, people take pictures of me everywhere I go. I hardly notice it anymore.”
“I just got off the phone with my boss. He had to remind me of the HR policy about relationships with clients and how it’s strictly forbidden. Imagine my shock when I had no idea what he was talking about until he sent me all these links with our picture everywhere.”
I feel my cheeks heat from my building anger as his spiel goes on. It’s not like I purposely fell into him. That was truly an accident.
I stand from my chair. I’m so angry that I can feel the tears stinging the back of my eyes. “All I wanted was to do one simple thing like a normal person. I wanted to get coffee with a friend. And before you say anything, I know we’re not friends, but you were the only option I had, so I tried to make the best of it. I wanted one moment of my life that wasn’t scheduled. But it was ruined because I accidentally mis-stepped. You should’ve just let me fall.”
“Maybe I should’ve!” he yells back. “I could’ve lost my fucking job because of this.”
A slow, tired laugh escapes me. “At least you haven’t lost your soul, Luke. Because let me tell you, I’m right there on the cusp of that.”
He’s silent for a moment as I stare off past his shoulder. I don’t even feel like myself anymore. I don’t enjoy life. I’m just going through the movements, following the schedule and making everyone else happy. What kind of life is that?
“Why do you do it then?” he finally asks.
“What choice do I have?”
“You always have a choice. Take control of your life, Calla. These fuckers are going to run you into the ground.”
He’s right. While those are my thoughts exactly, it’s different to finally hear someone else say it out loud. Like it validates what I’ve been thinking.
When I don’t have a response for him, he turns around and walks out. I hear the front door shut behind him, and I’m left on my own.
I crumple to the floor and finally let the tears fall. It feels like everything is falling apart. I don’t have control over anything in my life. I’m being pulled in so many different directions and I’ve been going nonstop for so long.
I’m mentally and physically exhausted, and it’s finally catching up to me. It seems like no matter how many times I wave the white flag, no one sees it. Or maybe they see it and don’t care because all anyone cares about is the money I can make them.
Eventually, I pull myself up, walk into my empty living room, and flop down on the couch. I cry and cry. When I’m finally cried out, I fall asleep curled up around a pillow.
I wake up at some point after the sun has gone down with swollen eyes and hot cheeks. I don’t know how long I slept, but someone draped a blanket over me. I guess I wasn’t as alone as I thought.