I sat at my desk with Paul on speakerphone from New York. It was first thing in the morning and I was exhausted. The cup of coffee I held wasn't doing shit.
"Why give her any money?" Paul asked again. "You aren't responsible for her bad behaviour."
I shook my head even though Paul couldn't see me. He sounded like Callie. Was it a lawyer thing?
"Because I feel bad, I'm worried about her kids and I can afford it. You want more reasons?" I growled towards the phone. "Or can you just do it?"
Paul's sigh was audible even over the phone. "On one condition. She signs a release agreeing to confidentiality of a one-time payment and waives any right to seek further compensation."
"Fine, whatever," I muttered before taking another sip of coffee. I didn't care about the legalities, as long as Nat got the money.
"I'll do up the paperwork later today. But for the record, I'm against this."
"Yup, got that. Don't care," I said, wanting to change the subject. "Any news on the rat bastard leaking shit?"
Paul had nothing to report, except the IT consultant was almost finished putting together the electronic mouse trap.
"Now some good news from Interscope," he announced. "The album deadline has officially been pushed back. You can relax."
I thanked him and we chatted a bit more before ending the call.
The extension was a relief, but also felt like a failure. I took pride in being a professional and hated that I couldn't make an obligation. No matter what, I promised myself, I was making this next deadline.
I tilted my head side to side, stretching out the knots in my neck. The constant tension of the impending album, working with a traitor and dealing with Nat was taking its toll.
I needed to relax and wondered if Callie was over her hissy fit yet. It had been several days since our blow up without any word from her. I shook my head as I remembered. She'd ruined a perfectly good night by insisting again she wasn't a slut and thinking we had a relationship. Even worse, she'd dragged Nat into the argument. Sluts needed to know their place.
Leaning back in the chair, I thought about how to punish Callie. My fantasy involved tying her up spread eagle, with her head and pussy accessible from the sides of the bed. I'd start by standing by her head. Forcing my dick down her throat over and over, I'd fuck her argumentative mouth. Next, I'd move to the other side of the bed and fucking destroy her pussy until she begged me to stop. Maybe then I'd return to her head and have her suck me clean. My dick hardened in approval and began throbbing in anticipation.
Hoping things were back to normal now, I sent Callie a text saying I wanted to fuck after work.
Adjusting my dick to a more comfortable position, I tried to focus on something else. Drinking the rest of my coffee, I considered heading down to the studio. But it didn't feel comfortable lately with a traitor lurking about. Maybe I needed a change of scenery.
Dialing Royce, I waited while it rang.
"Hey man. How ya doing?" he asked.
"It's been tough. You mind if I use some space in your studio today? I gotta get out of here for a bit," I said, drumming my fingers on the desk.
"Still haven't found the traitor?"
"Nah. Paul's working on it," I said. "Yo speaking of which, why is Donald Trump a traitor? Because he's Putin America second."
"Slim with the punchlines!" Royce laughed. "Sure, come on over brother. I got a bunch of meetings this morning and won't be using the studio anyway."
I thanked Royce and hung up. Seeing a new text from Callie, I clicked it open.
C: No. We're done.
Guess she was still mad. I sighed.
As I drove across town to Birmingham, I tried to ease my frustration with music. Why did girls always complicate things by catching feelings? Things with Callie were great as they were. The sex was phenomenal. Why couldn't we just have fun? Why'd she have to go making it more than it was?
Every relationship I had eventually imploded. Nat was just the latest. That relationship had me feeling guilty and preparing to cut a big cheque. But they all ended up costing me, in one way or another. It was smarter to keep things casual from now on, just sex. Callie had to see that.
I arrived at Heaven Studios and parked outside the main entrance. Walking through the lobby, I glanced around and did a double take. Callie sat in the waiting area, flipping through a magazine.
Slowing my steps, I debated whether to approach her now. This wasn't a conversation I wanted to have in public. But in person Callie would have to speak to me. We could get things back to normal sooner. And the waiting area was mostly empty.
Taking a sharp right, I walked over and sat down next to her. Callie looked up in surprise.
"Knew ya couldn't stay away for long," I joked.
Callie's only response was to look back down at the magazine.
"You're still mad. Fine. Let's get together tonight and work it out," I said.
She ignored me.
"Don't be a bitch about this," I said, my own anger igniting.
Still no response. And she flipped a page in the fucking magazine.
I grabbed her arm and hauled her up. There was a meeting room to the left of reception and I propelled Callie towards it.
"I just need to speak to Ms. Walker for a moment in private," I said with a smile as we passed the receptionist. Recognizing me, she nodded.
Shoving Callie in the room, I shut the door and leaned against it. "What the fuck's your problem?" I demanded.
Callie stared at me wearing her professional face. "I've got a meeting with Royce."
She stepped towards me and the door, but I pushed her back.
"No. We're doing this now," I said. "Why are you so pissed? 'Cause I said there's no relationship? You knew the deal from the start. Just sex."
"Right. My mistake. Can I go now?"
"So we're good? I'll see you later?" I asked hopefully.
"No you ass!" Callie hissed. "I never want to see you again!"
That stung. Acting like I wasn't hurt, I went on the offensive.
"Why are you making a big deal of this?" I demanded, getting in her face.
"I'm not. You're the one who dragged me in here!" Callie said.
She tried to shove me away but I grabbed her forearms and held tight, drawing her against my chest. Our faces inches apart.
"Look, it's simple. We make each other feel good. That's enough," I insisted.
"No," Callie said. "Not for me."
"You sure? Still got my name written on your thighs?" I asked, licking my bottom lip as I remembered what came after the marker.
Callie's cheeks flushed as if she had a similar thought, before shaking her head.
"I can put it back," I offered in a low voice. "Where it belongs."
"No," Callie said.
"You want me to relax the rules? Eat your snatch more? I can do that."
Not much of a sacrifice on my part since I'd enjoyed it. My dick twitched at the thought of being between her legs once more.
"No."
"Then what do you want?" I asked, exasperated.
"Nothing," Callie whispered. "Now let me go."
I frowned as the double meaning of her last words hit me.
"No!" I shouted as my hands tightened on her arms, knuckles turning white. Callie winced.
Behind me I heard the door open and then Royce's voice.
"Everything okay in here?" he asked.
I forced myself to release Callie and take a step back before answering. "Fine. Just sorting some things out."
"Callie?" Royce asked.
Callie pulled her sleeves down over the red marks I'd left on her arms. Stepping around me, she gave Royce a stiff smile. "Let me run to the washroom, then I'm ready for our meeting."
As she rushed from the room, I turned to face Royce. His large glasses didn't hide the concern in his eyes.
"What's going on Marshall?" he asked. "That looked serious."
"Nothing," I said, looking away.
"You and Callie?" Royce prompted.
Not anymore it seemed. So many emotions spun inside my head. Rage, sadness, frustration. Why couldn't Callie see things were fine the way they were?
"Nah," I forced a laugh. "I got enough problems with bitches. Don't need another one."
Royce looked as if he was about to say more. But I wasn't up for talking about this.
"Ya got a meeting now and I need to get to work," I said, motioning towards the door. "Thanks again for the studio space."
Royce reached out and grabbed my shoulder. "If you ever need to talk, I gotcha."
"Yeah, thanks," I nodded. We embraced and I hurried down the hall.
It was dark by the time I got home. A different studio hadn't been as helpful as I'd hoped. All my frustrations remained. And now there was Callie to deal with.
Changing into work-out gear, I went to my home gym. With music blaring, I pulled on fingerless gloves to protect my hands. Then I rained punches down on the heavy bag.
Left jab. Left hook. Straight right. Left hook.
I'd rather be having sex now, but Callie had made it clear that wasn't an option. Guess it was time to move on and find a new bitch. Except ... I didn't really want to. The thought made me pause.
There were plenty of sluts out there. Although it could be a hassle to find one that wasn't crazy, manage expectations and in most cases, get a nondisclosure agreement signed. Especially if the sex then turned out to be just okay. That must be the reason for my hesitation – I didn't need the extra hassle of finding someone new right now. I had enough going on. I was comfortable with Callie.
But what choice did I have?
Straight right. Left hook. Right uppercut. Left jab.
Nah, Callie would be back. Sluts always came crawling back, begging to fuck.
Except ... what if she didn't?
Right jab. Straight right. Left hook. Right uppercut.
What if I could change Callie's mind?
As I punched the bag, I thought about my initial threat to destroy her career. Carrying through on it wasn't an option. I didn't want to hurt Callie. Plus, it seemed counterproductive to getting her in bed. If I went ahead and destroyed her, then she had no reason to come back. Besides I already had one bitch without a job, I didn't need another.
Straight right. Left uppercut. Right hook. Left hook.
I grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from my face and arms. Maybe a warning shot would be enough to make her reconsider.
Yeah, I could do that.
