Rushed(115)

"Just a moment," a voice from the back called. "Are you Tomasso?"

"Yeah," I said, looking at the chairs in the reception area and deciding I'd rather stand. "You're Carmen?"

"Yep," the voice said, coming closer. The curtain separating the studio floor from the rest of the space twitched, and out came a tiny little woman, maybe only five foot one or two, with dark brown hair and a tan that belied her Latina heritage. "Hi."

"Hi," I said, offering my hand. Carmen was dressed in dancer's pants and a polo shirt that had Dreamstyle Dance Studio over the left chest. "Thanks for seeing me. Did I interrupt?”

"Not at all," she said, leading me toward the back. She had me wait and brought out a rolling massage table, which she positioned in the middle of the room. "When Daniel said that you needed some deep tissue work, I just bumped my dance workout an hour earlier. Only thing you're keeping me from is watching some soap operas, which isn't really that bad of a thing. All right, before we begin, let me give you the rules. You're going to keep your underpants on, I'm keeping all my clothes on, and there's no such thing as a happy ending here. If that’s what you’re looking for, I can give you the address to a place about a mile away that would be happy to accommodate you.”

"That's okay," I said, laughing at the spunky little firecracker in front of me. "I . . . I have someone. Besides, I'm glad to know that my father's investment is being used for a real dance studio and not just a front for something else."

Carmen looked surprised, then blushed slightly. "You're Mr. Bertoli’s son? Sorry, I had no idea. Daniel just said his friend, Tomasso."

I waved off her concern. "I'm not trying to live off my name. Just . . . my lower back and hamstrings are killing me with all this sitting around, and I could really use some work on them."

Her confidence restored, she smiled. "Okay then. Well, let me say the word that gives me so much ironic pleasure then. Strip."

I had to laugh, and I took off my shirt and tie before sitting on the edge of the table and working off my shoe and my pants. "I can see why Adriana likes you," I said, lying down. "You two have a similar spirit."

"Thanks, I'll take that as a compliment," Carmen said. She had me lay face down on the table, then disappeared into the back, where she came out with a shoulder bag of supplies. "So how'd you break your ankle?"

"Ramming into the back of a Tahoe." I chuckled, putting my face in the little hole that allowed me to breathe and keep my neck straight. "You didn't see it on the news?"

I couldn't see anything except the polished concrete of the floor, but I could hear her arrange her supplies as she talked. "This place has me working too hard to get much news. But I think I remember something about that. Did it have something to do with this girl that you mentioned?"

“You could say that." I chuckled, humming as her hands started working on my legs, warm and oily. There was a light fragrance to whatever she was using—I thought it smelled a lot like eucalyptus, but I wasn't sure. Either way, it warmed my muscles, working loose the knots and relaxing my body. "Ouch, is that your elbow in my hamstring?"

"I weigh a hundred pounds. The only way I can get pressure is with my elbows," Carmen said, grunting lightly. "You've got lower legs like a bunch of sticks, Papi. You're going a little hard in the rehab, I think."

"I'm going to walk again soon," I hissed in reply as she found another knot and worked at it. "Jesus, what kind of dancer were you, a dominatrix?"

She laughed and eased up the pressure. "Nope, I teach ballet, jazz and hip-hop—mostly to kids. If you mean prior, I usually went with the schoolgirl shtick. I think you understand if I don't have any pictures of that on the walls around here."

"Of course," I said, sighing as the knot she was working on let loose and the pain immediately went away. "Although I've read that stripper-robics and pole dancing is becoming popular with the Mom set."

"It's a fad that will fade away soon enough, and a lot of girls are going to be out of work if they only build on that," Carmen replied. "Now, I'm going to work your butt now—don't get any fancy ideas."

“Don’t worry,” I said, focusing instead on the mix of pain and pleasure as the tiny woman proceeded to spend the next half hour working my back, hips, and hamstrings before finishing up with a massage of my right calf and foot. I would have liked one of my left foot, but I understood. She wasn't going to touch that until I was more recovered. "You're talented."

"Thanks," she said, slightly out of breath from the effort. "You'd be surprised at the number of Bertoli men who come in and only want a rub down. They follow the rules, though, or else I sick Daniel on them."

I laughed. "That'll make anyone behave," I said.

"So tell me about this girl. Is she cute?"

I sighed happily and relaxed, nodding. "She's the most amazing woman in the world. Smart, spunky, great . . . yeah, she's great."

"And what's keeping you two apart? I mean, besides your being a Bertoli."

"Actually, that I'm American," I said as Carmen started on my shoulders and neck. They were pretty loose from my workouts, but it still felt good anyway. "Her father hates Americans. We’re good enough to be business partners, but that’s about it.”