"It's a week away!" Isabelle pushed her hair from her face and scowled at her phone.

"That's why I called you. I don't know anyone who could pull this together as quickly as you." Jim could be a pain in the ass but he was a good manager.

"Flattery, as you are well aware, will get you nowhere."

"The money is insane. They need this to be perfect."

She slid deeper into her couch cushions, "Don't insult me. You know I don't care about that. Tell me who the band is."

"Can't, its hush hush."

"Then, no. Look, I just finished a five month babysitting job, I'm exhausted, there's like, two bands in the universe I'd do this for right now and I know neither of them are touring."

"It's not really so much a band."

Isabelle couldn't pretend not to be intrigued. "So let me get this straight – there is a tour starting, in a week, and certain members of this…group…aren't going to be ready, vocally, in time. Not a band, so what? A musical? Is this like a touring Broadway show that had a lead drop at the last minute?"

Isabella's brain was like a rolodex. If it was happening on a stage or in a sound booth she knew about it. She was a vocal coach, and stage doctor for some of the biggest names in the business. Sometimes she would come in and just get someone past a hitch for a particular song, but most often she was paid to put together high value productions. She worked best when she could take an artists songs, memorize them, deconstruct them so that she knew them better than the folks who wrote them and then build a show from the ground up.

Depending on the artist, and the money men she then either prepped everyone to her vision and left, or stayed with the tour for the duration, cleaning up issues and building new moments in for repeat viewers. In the age of You Tube most artists requested she stay on and change things up to keep them fresh.

"Not quite Broadway, but you're getting warm."

"There has to be someone else for this Jim. I'm beat and I'm starting to get the distinct feeling we're dealing with kids here."

Drunks, drug addicts, sex addicts, she could deal with all of this, it came with the territory, but the big money tours lately were kids in their teens and very early twenties that made her feel way more like the nanny than a consultant.

"Issy I'm gonna be completely honest. This is huge. They have an entourage bigger than I've seen. There's a choreographer so you don't have to deal with that. There are at least 7 A.D.'s on this tour for fuck's sake. No one dropped out, no one added in, these guys are working close to 12 months a year and they know you can do this in a week and they also don't expect anyone to say no to them."

She closed her eyes and moaned. "Shit Jim, you want me to do Glee."

He cleared his throat but said nothing.

"They have a set list?"

"A framework."

"They have a set?"

"Don't know."

"Rehearsal time? Space?"

"Working on it."

"Shit, Jim."

"You love Vegas."

"I fucking hate Vegas." There was a long pause. "Tell them I need the One 80 Suite at the Red Rock, a copy of all of the DVD's and CD's and their three worst cases by noon tomorrow. Oh, and whoever the choreographer is and the head dick on the phone within the next hour or I really will say no."

"I love you."

"I'm not kidding. All of it. Or no. I just booked a flight for tomorrow. Damn, didn't pay for the cable bill," she was busy now, already in work mode. She'd bought tickets on her cell while talking on her landline and started flicked the tv to search on demand for Glee. "Get the DVD's messengered over now."

"It's 9:30PM."

"Jim." Her voice a simple warning.

"You want a pizza with that?"

"And beer. My place is completely devoid of anything useful. I haven't even been home for three hours."

12:30 AM. Isabella is pacing her living room like a caged puma talking quickly in the direction of the giant speakerphone on her coffee table. Jim says the thing scares him, like something from Star Trek that will beam him up to another planet if he hits a wrong button. The frazzled voices joining her were those of Zach the choreographer and Ryan, the co-creator and director of the show. The only light in the room is the TV, flickering with scenes from the show.

She had an idea now of the major songs that had to be included, the overall vibe Ryan wanted for the show and now she was trying to put faces to character names. To make life easier until she got to know the cast Ryan and Zach were calling people only by character names.

"So tomorrow I get…"

"Blaine, and I'll take Artie, his vocals are solid but we have to work on the wheelchair choreography to keep him interested but not over winded." Zach was obviously making notes.

"They're going to do tracks, yes?" [Soft Break]

"They'll have too, this is too much choreography for full live mikes."

"And when will we be recording these tracks?"

"Wednesday, Thursday."

"Show's Friday."

"They're used to the pace."

"They aren't used to me."

Ryan popped in and out of the conversation, he too was heavy in work mode, multitasking as if he were born with a phone attached to each ear. "Isabella I got your suite, I didn't think to ask for a piano, hang on, I'll get them back."

"Don't bother, if you booked in my name they'll have the piano right where I like it. So I've got Blaine day one, then day two what?"

"Still Blaine, he's got…challenges. If I can I'll get Kurt out to you by the end of day two."

"Don't get Blaine a room until I have two of them. There are two rooms in the suite and I'd rather he not be able to hide from me."

Everyone laughed in recognition. Issy had a reputation for being a hard ass. People frequently cried at her rehearsals but the shows were flawless.

"So talk to me for a quick second about this Blaine/Kurt thing. Are we avoiding the gay theme or pushing it?"

"We're doing a Gaga tribute."

"Hmmm, yummy. These boys have no idea the playground I'm building for them in my head."

She could hear the smile in Ryan's voice, "Me too, Issey, me too."