17. Callie
seventeen
Callie
“Callie, fifteen minutes until start time.” Tommy, one of the few crew members who doesn’t creep me out, knocks on my dressing room door.
Ignoring the warning, I stay focused on the music. With my capo on the fourth fret, taking the chord octave up in range, I repeat the progression—D, G, B minor, A—and hum to myself as I strum the strings of the guitar with my pick.
Down. Down, up. Up, down, up.
The melody has been stuck in my head, begging to be released since the other night, when Eli threw me over his shoulder and carried me out of the club like an overprotective beast.
My stomach flips as I close my eyes, picturing Eli’s furiously handsome face as he stomped over and stepped in between me and the line of guys pawing at my legs with mouths open, waiting for me to pour liquor down their throats.
The memory of him crowding me with a crazed, jealous look in his eyes, as I sat on the bar staring up at him, is a bolt of desire straight to my center. Angry, possessive Eli is hot as fuck, and I’m not ashamed to admit I’ve gotten myself off twice since I saw that side of him.
Only, in my fantasies, Eli didn’t carry me away. Instead, he spread my legs open, dropped to his knees, and licked me until I came on his tongue screaming his name, letting everyone know exactly whom I belonged to.
The words form as memories of our first meeting run through my head.
I’m unsteady, shaky Then your hand lands on my hip My heart stalls in my chest the fire from your tight grip Mismatched eyes struck by a black abyss Drop your hold, leave me cold. What is this? Did you feel it spread, or is this all in my head? I don’t know. Here we go
Strum, write, harmonize. Repeat.
The lines of the first verse easily come together. Words materialize with ease as they build into the pre-chorus, chorus, and bridge. The lyrics are flying out of me as I fall deeper into my musical flow state.
When I get into this stage of writing, it’s like the world falls away and all that’s left are notes floating in the air, waiting to be plucked and placed on the staff lines where they belong on the sheet.
There is no stopping me until I’m done.
Your wild eyes, keep catching mine and pull me down under Ocean blue, forest green. You’re more than any lover The flame you lit, there is no cover Heat grows between my thighs Let us cross the line, beautiful surrender We could blaze forever
A mix of euphoria and adrenaline runs through my veins as I strum the last chord. I’ve never written a song that quickly. All the pieces just fell into place for this one, and I can feel it down to my bones. This song is something.
It’s different from the songs I usually sing. These lyrics are all my own. They come from deep-seated emotions that stem from one thing, one person, making them more real. Raw.
When I open my eyes, standing in my dressing room and looking like sex incarnate is the man himself. My inspiration.
Elijiah Miller.
He’s here.
Yesterday, I watched the doors to the auditorium open and close all day long. I couldn’t stop the waves of disappointment that sliced my heart like a paper cut each time it wasn’t him. As soon as I got into the car, I sent him a text, calling him out for not being there like he said he would. I wasn’t about to let him get away with avoiding me, but I also wanted him to know I understood. Whatever is going on between us scares him. It scares me too, but I’d rather figure it out than ignore it.
Whatever was bugging him yesterday must not be today as he stands confidently in front of me. His mismatching green-blue eyes drink me in and hope blooms in my belly.
My eyes have a mind of their own as they sweep down his body. Eli looks good this morning. Too good. He’s wearing a charcoal dress shirt with two buttons undone that reveal a sliver of his broad tan chest, and a pair of black slacks that fit his thick thighs to perfection. My gaze lingers a little too long on his crotch area, and like in my song, I am a ball of “burning, scorching, flooding desire”.
“My eyes are up here, Callie.”
Heat burns my cheeks as I look up to find Eli smirking at me. My nipples turn to pebbles at the grit in his voice.
Smug sexy jerk.
I clutch my guitar to my chest, covering my nipples from view. “I know where your eyes are, Eli.”
“Just making sure. You were staring pretty hard at my dick.”
“I was not,” I snap.
I so was. I swear I saw it twitch. Fine, I’m grasping at straws, but a girl could hope his dick was happy to see me.
Eli’s lips turn up. He knows I’m lying, and he’s enjoying my embarrassment a little too much. “Whatever you say, princess.”
The butterflies in my stomach take flight at the whiskey-warm way he calls me “princess” . Trying to inject irritation into my tone, I ask, “What are you doing in here?”
“I came to get you. Everyone is waiting.”
How long ago did Tommy knock?
“Oh. Sorry.” I lift the strap over my head and place the guitar that once belonged to my mom on the stand beside the couch. “I had to get this out.”
“I heard.”
“You did?” My tongue feels like sandpaper in my mouth.
He heard? Does he know the lyrics are about him?
“Well, just the last chorus,” he amends, looking sheepish.
“Oh.” I avert my gaze as my face heats again. Those few lines alone give away so much.
“Hey.” In four long strides, Eli is towering over me. He takes a seat beside me and glances at my journal.
I close the lavender leather, concealing the words that reveal too much.
“I’m sorry for barging in.”
“It’s fine.” I take a deep breath and inhale his clean scent. My stomach dips, my thighs clench, and every cell in my body settles while simultaneously vibrating with energy.
He cups my cheek, tilting my chin to the side. I fight the longing building in my bones that begs me to lean into his warm palm. His thumb skates over the slight scratch on my cheek, and I make the mistake of looking at his face. Concern etches his brow as he takes in the barely there wound.
He wants answers but doesn’t press me for them. “This looks better. Does it hurt?”
“No.” I shake my head.
Our bodies lean closer like two magnets whose poles are destined to fuse.
Kiss me, I beg Eli to make the first move.
He leans closer, his lips inches from mine.
A clatter outside my door has him jumping back. Disappointment punches me in the stomach. Eli drops his hand and the loss hurts worse than Silla’s slap.
“Do you need more time?” He dips his chin to the guitar.
His thoughtfulness fills me with warmth. I appreciate that he’d make time for me if I needed it. “No, I’m good. I finished.”
“The whole thing?” He looks at me in awe.
I nod, my insides filling with pride at the way Eli’s looking at me, like I conquered the world or something.
“Wow, Callie, that’s amazing. Can I hear it?”
My heart trips over itself at the thought of him hearing the lyrics. If I’m not ready to sing them to him, I doubt he’s ready to hear them. The last thing I want is for Eli to run.
Ignoring his question, I slowly extricate myself from the couch, hating that I need to put distance between us. Hating that my feelings are one-sided. I look away, but not before catching a look of disappointment flash across his face.
Eli stands from the couch, brushing his hands down his thighs. “Do you, uh, need anything else?”
“No, thank you.” Gripping the bottom of my shirt, I pull it off and throw it on the dressing room table. I adjust the shoulder straps of my one-piece before untying the string on my sweatpants.
“What are you doing?”
My hands freeze at Eli’s question. I look up to find him staring at me with his fists clenched, looking like he’s in pain. “What do you mean?”
“Why the hell are you taking off your clothes?” His voice is gritty and thick as he stares back at me, jaw tight. The heat in his eyes is unmistakable.
Eli is in pain—not because he’s hurt, but because he likes what he sees.
Hmm. Maybe he needs a little show.
A sly smile pulls at my lips. “Don’t worry, Elijiah. I’m not getting naked.” Yet.
He visibly gulps, and his gaze returns to my hands as I undo the tie. His eyes widen as I slowly slide off the baggy sweats, letting them fall into a pool at my feet, and kick them to the side. I’m left wearing nude tights that give the appearance of naked skin under a pair of black fishnet stockings and my matching sequined rehearsal leotard.
Continuing to ignore his presence, I saunter over to the purple knee-high boots on the shoe rack and make a meal of lazily stepping into them, lifting my leg on the shelf and, with a torturously slow pace, zipping them up.
When I’m done, I look over at Eli. The exaggerated rise and fall of his chest, and heat in his eyes as he stares at my legs and hips, give me hope that maybe I’m not so alone in this attraction.
“Eli, my eyes are up here,” I repeat his earlier teasing words.
With pink cheeks, he slowly brings his eyes to mine. Eli’s hungry stare has my confidence soaring. His reaction is a drug, delivering a buzzing high to my body. I shoot him a flirty wink, and bask in the desire plainly written across his face. Putting extra sway in my hips, I strut to the door and hope he’s staring at my ass.
Hand on the knob, I stop and turn to him one last time. “I’ll play you the song when you’re ready.”
With those parting words and feeling giddy, I walk out and make my way to the stage.
Eli was totally staring at my ass.
My palms are raw with newly forming blisters as we restart the choreography for the last song, in which a ring lifts me fifteen feet into the air. The plan is for me to perform a few aerial spins before being lowered back to the ground.
While learning aerial acrobatics has been fun, I do not want to do this. I am absolutely terrified of heights. My hate for heights is probably why Silla hired an aerial stunt choreographer who saw her Cirque du Soleil style vision as a thing of beauty.
All I’ve ever wanted was to sing, and this elaborate show with all the theatrics isn’t me. I’d much prefer intimate settings with an audience and my guitar.
I take a deep breath and remind myself that I can get through this. That, one day, I won’t have to worry about Silla anymore.
“On my count. Five, six, seven, eight,” Jenna, the dance choreographer, shouts. She claps us off as the music starts.
The routine feels like second nature as my body has already committed the steps to memory.
“Bend, drop. Hit one, two. Up. Hips.” At first, none of Jenna’s words made sense, but after a hundred times, they do and now I move my body accordingly. “Perfect, Callie. Again, hit. Pop, pop. Yes.”
Jenna is a brilliant teacher. She’s kind and motivating. Her moves are fresh and flow with the melody, a mix between pop and lyrical. I was never big on dancing but learned some doing the ensemble routines for the teen movies I starred in when I first started my career. Those were much simpler days and, in a lot of ways, I miss them.
I listen as Jenna instructs the backup dancers to circle me like they will during the concert. With butterfly wings, they will hide me from the crowd as two dancers clip a harness onto my hips before I get lifted into the air.
The bridge hits, and the ring descends.
My heart rails against my ribs, trying to escape. My palms sweat. Dread hits me in the stomach. I really don’t want to do this.
My eyes catch Eli where he’s standing in the front row. His gaze hasn’t left me all morning. Not since I left him speechless and drooling over my ass as I strutted away from him. Instead of the lust that burned before, they now glow with a warm, calming heat that makes me feel safe and secure.
My nerves dissipate as our eyes lock. I concentrate on the brown spot on his left, and a wave of assurance falls over me as I grip the bar and ascend toward the lights. Once in the air, a wave of confidence slides over me. As I practiced, I spread my legs and contort my core, executing the spin perfectly.
The wires attached to the ring screech like nails on a chalkboard as I come to a stop. My skin breaks out in goosebumps and a shiver rolls down my spine at the sickening sound.
Unexpectedly, one of the wires attached to the ring in my hands snaps. Fear spreads through me when I take a quick plunge as the other cables catch my weight with a taut jerk. The bucking motion makes my shoulders burn as I hold on.
I scream, fear slicing through me.
Fuck. Please, cord, don’t snap and let me plummet to my death, my brain pleads with the universe.
Another wire snaps, and the sound is so deafening it muffles the shouts below me as the ring drops me another foot down with a jerk. My body whips around, and the force of it is too much for the carabiner on my right hip. It snaps and my right hand slips. I’m left gripping the circular bar with only my left hand as I spin out of control.
My body sways back and forth, and I can’t help but look down.
Nope. Bad idea.
My head spins from the vertigo. The floor looks miles away from up here. I squeeze my eyes shut and tighten my grip. Pure terror grips my insides as blood pounds in my ears.
I’m going to die.
“Callie! Listen to me, dammit.” Eli’s shouts cut through my fog of fear.
Without looking down, I shout his name.
“I’m right here. I need you to slow your momentum.”
“I can’t,” I cry out, focusing on the one hand gripping the bar.
“You can do it. Please, try again. You got this.” I can hear the edge of panic and fear laced in his firm voice.
I can do this.
Taking a deep breath, I bring my ankles together and tuck my knees to my chest, decreasing the pendulum my body is creating fifteen feet off the ground. More creaking above has me scrambling to reach for the ring with my right hand in panic. My fingertips miss the bar by a hair, and my left shoulder screams in pain.
Chancing a look down, I watch Eli shout at the engineer, who says something about the mechanism being stuck. Panic sets in as the ring creaks and I dip again with a yelp.
“Bring those pads over here now,” Eli bellows.
I feel like I’m wading through water, and time slows down as I watch him bark orders and everyone scrambles in a flurry of motion. I keep my eyes on Eli. He looks so strong and sexy from up here as he tries to get me down.
Regret hits me in the gut, making me feel sick. I should have sung him my song and kissed his pouty lips when I had the chance.
My mom’s dark-brown eyes flash in my head, and tears cloud my vision. I’m about to die, and the only person who knows about her is Silla. Anguish pulls me closer to the ground. I should have told Eli the truth sooner. He would have taken care of Mom if something happened to me.
Gears whine, and the smell of smoke hits my nose, making me gag. I drop another foot, and my body rocks side to side again. I have no idea what the hell to do. My palm is sweaty, and I’m losing my grip.
“Eli,” I shout as the second cable on the ring snaps, and my body is sent flailing, gravity doing its best to pull me down. I close my eyes and accept my fate.
Another jolt, and my fingers slip off the ring. With a scream, I freefall to the ground.
A feral, “No!” roars below me, and in less than a second, my ass hits the floor with a painful thud. My head whips back with an excruciating pinch as even more pain radiates up my spine. Darkness swallows me as the scent of sea water and wood fills my nose, and wraps around me like a warm blanket.
I don’t know how long I’m out, but when I come to, it’s to the sound of Eli’s voice whispering in my ear, “Wake up, Callie. Please, wake up.”
My eyelids flutter open to find Eli’s handsome face hovering over me. His eyes glimmer in a strange mix of fear and concern. I lose myself in the striations in his irises. He looks like a god as the lights above him glow around his head. He cradles me to his chest as I come back to reality.
“Am I dead?” I whimper.
“No, princess. You’re not dead.”
“My head…” I reach up and press a finger to my temple. My brain is pounding, and my body aches like I got hit by a Mack truck. “It hurts.”
He pushes the hair out of my face, and my heart flutters. “Where?”
“Everywhere,” I moan.
His arms pull me closer. “I’ve got you.”
“The ambulance is here,” someone says nearby, but I can’t tear my eyes away from Eli.
A second later, two people dressed in white shirts and navy pants push through the crowd with a gurney.
“No.” I clutch Eli’s shirt as they approach. “Please, don’t go.”
“It’s okay. I’m right here. I won’t let you go, I promise.”
“Sir, we need to check Miss Wright.”
Eli lays me down on the mat, allowing the paramedics to do their job.
“No,” I moan as pain slices through my back. The idea of letting Eli go hurts more, making me panic.
“Callie, they need to check on you. I’ll be right by your side the entire time. Keep your eyes on me, okay?” Eli says, trying to reassure me.
“Okay.”
True to his word, he stays by my side as the EMTs lift me onto the spine board, wrapping my neck in a brace and strapping my head into a stabilizer.
A burly paramedic with a thick beard blocks my vision as he slides a blood pressure cuff around my arm, sending my heart racing in panic. My breaths come out faster, and the other paramedic covers my mouth with an oxygen mask.
My eyes search for Eli, but I can’t move my neck.
Warm fingers thread through my cold, clammy ones. “Hey, relax. I’m right here.”
Relief spreads through me as the adrenaline from the fall dissipates. The heat and safety of Eli’s hand in mine allow me to close my eyes and drift off to sleep.