July (Calendar Girl #7)(15)
Maria scanned the notes in front of her, bobbing her head from side to side, the new song Anton had written playing on repeat to keep the muse enchanted. “Si, si, I feel you. Mia can be strutting her stuff like so.” She mimicked a sexy, sultry walk. “Then Anton will follow behind her, keeping a bit with the Michael Jackson hip sway and fast feet but with his own hip-hop, Latin fusion style,” she said excitedly.
Anton pounced after Maria when she repeated the moves. While she swayed her hips, I paid close attention because this would eventually be my role when the cameras were on. “See Mia, come here.” I stood, rather tipsy, wiped my sticky martini fingers on my jeans, and followed her lead. She turned around and grabbed my hips as though she was a man dancing with me. “Now, pretend I’m not here and move your hips when I tap your side.”
We walked a few steps, she tapped. I swayed back and forth picking up her rhythm. “Now stop and bend down, and touch your toes slowly, as if you’re going to tie your shoe. Then caress your legs all the way up, past your waist and over your breasts.”
I did what she said. “Tan caliente,” Anton murmured. He pressed his hands against my hips and rubbed his groin along my ass. He wasn’t hard, but that icky vibe hit out of nowhere and I broke out in a sweat.
“An-ton,” I warned. My lip trembled, betraying the fear that must have been evident in my eyes, saying something I wasn’t able to vocalize, because his hands left me as if they’d been burned.
“Sorry, mu?eca”
I turned around and placed a hand on his chest. “No, I’m sorry. We’re just practicing. It will get easier, I promise.” Closing my eyes, I sent a quiet prayer up above that I’d get past this touching thing and quick. My job depended on it.
From across the room, I could hear my phone beep announcing a new text message. Anton lifted his chin as if approving I take a minute. Hustling over to my purse on the counter I yanked the phone out and read the message.
To: Mia Saunders
From: Wes Channing
No way, no how, am I missing your birthday. Deal with it. I’ll be in Miami in a week. We’ll do it the easy way or the hard way. Whichever you prefer, sweetheart, but you’re not getting out of seeing me.
Little did I know I had an audience. Heather made no bones about reading the text over my shoulder.
“Who’s Wes? Your boyfriend?”
Who was Wes? That was an excellent question indeed. My friend, lover, boyfriend, man of my dreams? In a way, he was all those things and more. “Um, definitely friend, sort of a boyfriend, I guess. We haven’t really established any titles at this time. Just taking it slow. You know how it goes.”
She snorted. “Me? Um, no. I’m queen of the one-night stand. With my job, there hasn’t been room for a special someone, though I hope one day there will be.”
Anton looped an arm over Heather’s shoulder. “Oh come now, H. There was that one guy that was all over you a couple weeks ago. Remember? Straight lost his shit when I entered your apartment unannounced.”
She groaned. “I remember, Anton. You don’t have to remind me.”
He laughed and smacked his thigh. “You were riding that f*cking pony six ways from Sunday! Whatever happened to him?”
“You! You happened to him, Anton. Just like Reece, and David, and Jonathan. Every time I get close to a guy you seem to screw it up with your demands, your entering my loft without knocking. Frightening them away before I ever even have a chance at more.” She harrumphed and pouted.
Anton’s eyes screwed into white-hot points. “You’re shitting me? You’re blaming me for being unlucky in love?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “No. I am not shitting you! When the nation’s biggest hip-hop artist trails into your home unannounced, looking the way you do and calling me baby, it doesn’t leave the best impression on future suitors.” Her hand came up to her forehead and she pressed her finger and thumb into her temples. “Why do I put up with this?” she grumbled under her breath.
Anton’s shoulders slumped and he lifted her chin. “H, baby, talk to me?”
“Talk to you! I’ll talk to you. I’ve been offered another job. One I think I’m going to take. How about that for idle chat!” Her voice was loud in the cavernous room.
“What! You are not f*cking leaving me!” he roared.
Oh no. Both Maria and I backed up a couple steps until we hit the edge of the counter. Heather lifted a pointed finger. “I’m tired of you not listening to me. Not promoting me!” Her voice rose, and I lifted my martini to my lips. Maria did the same as we watched the fight unfold.
“Listen to you? You’re the only one I listen to!” he countered. “And you’ve never asked for a promotion! What do you want? More money? Done!”
Heather’s face contorted into a grimace, an expression so wrought with pain even I could feel the heat of her ire. “It’s not always about f*cking money! Uggh, you’re so infuriating.” She yanked on her hair and spun around to face the wall of windows overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. “Maybe it’s best that I move on.”
Anton took two steps and put his hands on her shoulders. “No. I won’t let you go.” The words were laced with regret.
“You may not have a choice. This is my life,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes.