Chapter Four

"Is this Archer Stiles?" a man's voice asks through the phone.

"Yes," I answer hesitantly. "May I ask who's calling?"

"This is Stephen," the man pauses, "Alison Quick's manager."

I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at the number on the screen, positive I didn't just hear what I think I heard.

"Can you repeat that?" I say in shock.

"Stephen Drew. Alison Quick's manager. This is Archer Stiles, right?" the man asks again, a hint of annoyance in his voice. Or maybe it's confusion. I'm not even sure. My brain clearly isn't functioning properly.

I sit staring at the wall unable to get my thoughts from my brain to my mouth.

"Hello?"

"Yes, this is Archer," I finally answer.

"Ms. Quick would like to schedule a meeting with you and your manager at your earliest convenience," Stephen responds flatly, clearly in business mode.

My jaw drops. "What?" I ask.

"Um, Ms. Quick would like to . . ." Stephen starts, but I cut him off.

"No, I heard you, I just can't believe what I just heard," I rattle on. "I'm just surprised that she wants to meet with my manager and me. I mean first off, I don't even have a manager. Not like that was the shocking part of that sentence though. The ‘Alison Quick wants to meet with me' part. Like, that's insane . . ."

"Mr. Stiles?" Stephen interrupts my rambling.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I sound like an idiot." I slap my palm to my forehead. I can't believe I'm making a fool out of myself right now. In front of Stephen Drew. Alison Quick's freaking manager.

"It's fine, I just have another meeting I need to get to in a minute here. Are you available to meet with her?"

I instantly want to say yes but hesitate just long enough for my brain to catch up with my mouth. I should probably have some kind of idea of what I'm walking in to with this."What is this in regards to?"

"The song you wrote. Ms. Quick heard it."

My heart drops into my stomach.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Juliet screams as I fill her and Dad in on the conversation I just had with Stephen.

Juliet starts jumping up and down on the chair, the ranch dressing on her chicken tender flying everywhere. I throw my arms up in front of my face, shielding it from the rogue condiments.

"Dude, you wanna put that weapon away?" I ask, laughing as I reach towards Juliet's hand that is currently armed with dangerous poultry.

Juliet looks down at her food and smiles. "Oops, sorry. I'm just so excited! Alison Quick wants to talk to my brother. MY brOTHER. The nerd who still has to sleep with a nightlight."

"Hey, wait a second." I point my finger at her. "I don't sleep with a nightlight. I fall asleep with my TV on. It's not because I'm afraid of the dark, though. It's because my brain is constantly going, and I need something to distract it so I can fall asleep." I pause for a second. "How do you even know I fall asleep with it on?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.

Juliet shrugs. "I sneak into your room some nights after you fall asleep."

I look at her, eyes wide. "And may I ask why?"

"Because you hide all the good snacks in your room instead of keeping them in the pantry like the rest of us. It's my only way to get some decent junk food around here. Dad only buys the healthy snacks that taste like cardboard." Juliet sticks her tongue out in disgust.

"Hey, this is a very pivotal time in your life. You're growing. I'm just making sure that you get everything you need to be healthy," Dad says, finally jumping into the conversation. He's been standing at the sink washing a dirty pan quietly for the past few minutes.

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before. It just sucks," Juliet whines.

"Oh yes, having a father who cares enough about you to keep you healthy really sucks," Dad retorts as he rolls his eyes.

"You know, it wouldn't kill me to have some Cheetos once in a while. At my last checkup, my doctor did say everything in moderation. Not to mention, he said I'm growing just the way I should be," Juliet answers, crossing her arms over her chest.

Ever since Mom passed away, Dad's been super paranoid about taking care of Juliet and making sure she's as healthy as an eight year old can be. I know it stems from her being prematurely born. He's always babied her a bit, but I think after Mom, he let that anxiety completely take over. I try to constantly reassure him that Juliet is fine, but it seems to go in one ear and out the other. I guess he could have worse ways of coping though.

"Hey guys, you think we can get back to the conversation at hand?" I push.

"That's right! Alison Quick!" Juliet starts jumping on the chair again.

I quickly reach up and grab her, pulling her towards me. I cradle her against my body, holding her hands down to her sides so that she can't move.

"No, not this again," I scold.

"What? I just—" Juliet starts, but I instantly move one of my hands over her mouth to cover it.

"No, it's my turn to speak." I turn towards Dad. "So what are you thinking? Should I go?"

Dad rinses the pan off and sets it in the drainboard. "Do you want to go?"

I hesitate for a second before nodding my head.

I haven't really taken much time to think about it. I all but ran down here after I got off the phone with Stephen. As soon as he asked me, my initial reaction was yes. Of course, all the worries and concerns started funneling in after I got off the phone though.

"Well then, I think you have your answer," Dad responds as he makes his way over to the table and sits next to me.

"But what if it's for something bad? Like she's suing me over my song." I start tapping my foot on the ground, my nerves really starting to slip through.

"If that's the case, Arch, she's going to find a way to do that whether you meet with her or not," Dad points out.

I nod my head as I process what he's saying. "Well, what if I just take the video down and don't respond?"

Suddenly I feel a warm wetness on the palm of my hand. I quickly pull it away from Juliet's mouth.

"Did you just lick me?" I ask in disgust, wiping my hand on my pant leg.

"You were being an idiot," Juliet responds, her voice flat.

"Excuse me?" I ask.

Dad reaches over and pulls her from my arms, setting her back on her chair.

"You're seriously thinking about ignoring THE Alison Quick? You've wanted to be a singer slash songwriter your entire life. You finally have a song go viral and an actual famous singer wants to meet with you and you're going to hide like a baby? I don't know what describes an idiot more than that," Juliet finishes as she crosses her arms across her chest again.

I look up at my dad who's fighting to keep a straight face.

"Well, I . . . I just . . . You know, for an eight year old, you're pretty opinionated," I retort.

"I get it from Mom," Juliet says, as she glances over at Dad. "Just like you get your annoying overthinking from Dad. Seriously between the two of you, you could seriously drive a girl crazy." She points both of her thumbs at herself. "And by a girl, I mean me. This girl."

I look at Dad and smirk. He raises his eyebrows at me. Again, I can tell he's trying to keep a straight face, but the right side of his lips are twitching. "Vegetables. Eat," he finally responds as he points to her plate.

Juliet rolls her eyes, but grabs her fork off the table and stabs a piece of broccoli with it.

"Fine, but you're going to that meeting," Juliet mumbles, then shoves the whole piece of broccoli in her mouth.