July (Calendar Girl #7)(2)
Fumbling, I pulled out my phone and turned it on. Several pings rang out. I scanned them, a message from Rachel telling me to text when I’d arrived. A message from Tai asking if the new client was a gentleman or if he needed to get on a plane again. And a text from Ginelle. Oh, snap. This was not good.
My stomach felt like a pit the size of the Grand Canyon, a never-ending cavern of dread filling the wide open space.
To: Mia Saunders
From: Skank-a-lot-a-Puss
You were attacked? In the hospital? Why the f*ck did I have to hear about it in a text from Tai’s brother! If you aren’t already dead I’m so going to kill you!
Sucking in a breath between my teeth I typed out a reply.
To: Skank-a-lot-a-Puss
From: Mia Saunders
Just a little mishap. No big deal. Totally fine. Don’t worry about me. I’ll call you later when I get settled with the Latin Lov-ah.
To: Mia Saunders
From: Skank-a-lot-a-Puss
Latin Lov-ah? No shit? He’s like the biggest thing in hip hop and habanero hot!
To: Skank-a-lot-a-Puss
From: Mia Saunders
I heard he’s douchey.
To: Mia Saunders
From: Skank-a-lot-a-Puss
That man can douche me any time…preferably with his tongue!
To: Skank-a-lot-a-Puss
From: Mia Saunders
You’re twisted!
To: Mia Saunders
From: Skank-a-lot-a-Puss
I’d like to be the rice and beans on the side of his entre. The churro to end his meal. The flaming flan he blows on and licks clean.
To: Skank-a-lot-a-Puss
From: Mia Saunders
Stop! Crazy whore. Jeez. You make me look like a f*cking saint.
To: Mia Saunders
From: Skank-a-lot-a-Puss
At least I know if I’m going to hell you’ll be right there giving me a lift!
I laughed out loud as Heather said, “Work?” while gesturing toward my phone. I hit a button and put it on silent before sliding it into my purse.
“Sorry. Best friend. Checking in.” I sighed and flicked my hair over one shoulder. The heat was getting to me. Leaning over I adjusted the air vent to blast me with icy cold goodness. Ah, better. Obviously Heather wasn’t worried about wasting the cool air by also having the windows down.
“You close?” Her lips pursed together as she turned into an underground parking garage.
My brows furrowed. What part of ‘best friend’ did she not hear? “Yep. Close as you can get. Known one another forever.”
She huffed, and slammed the car into park. “You’re lucky. I don’t have any friends.” Her words jolted through me like an electric shock.
“What do you mean? Everyone has friends.”
Heather shook her head. “Not me. Too much work to do to cultivate relationships. Anton has to be the best. Even if I’m just his PA, I need to rock the house. Besides, my education is in business management. One day maybe I’ll be making the decisions for an artist. If I want my dreams to come true, I have to work hard.”
“Guess so.” I shrugged and followed her as she walked briskly towards an elevator, passing a line of seriously impressive luxury cars.
“Damn,” I whispered under my breath, taking in the Mercedes, Range Rover, Escalade, BMW, Bentley, Ferrari and several other European cars I didn’t get to check out. What I did see, the items that stopped me in my tracks, had me glued to the concrete, were the six hottest, sex on wheels I’d ever seen.
BMW HP2 Sport - white with blue rims and an 1170 engine. I might have wet myself at that point. Then there was an MV Agusta F4 1000 the only bike in the world to have a radial valved engine. I twisted around, let go of the handle on my suitcase and traced the third bike’s sexy as f*ck seat. The Icon Sheene all black with shiny chrome. I caressed it the way a lover would, with one finger tip, tracing its rounded curves and bold edge design. This bike cost over a hundred and fifty thousand dollars! Fuck me. No really, I need to f*ck on this bike.
Air, I needed air! I gasped and crouched down, still not capable of taking my eyes off the pretty. Sweet baby, come to Mama. I could happily live in this garage, just staring at the bikes of my dreams.
“Um, hello? Earth to Mia? What the hell are you doing?”
Her voice came through, but I didn’t answer. It was like a pesky mosquito that no matter how many times you swatted it away it kept coming back.
I slowly stood, sucked in a replenishing breath, and scanned down the line once more. An orange and black sick, tricked out KTM Super Duke was hanging out at the back of the line. Probably the most affordable of the lot, definitely on my list of amazing bikes I might one day be able to afford. “Whose bikes are these?” I asked, my voice having dropped an octave, in awe at the pure hot sex on two wheels.
“Anton’s. This is his building. His music studio is here, dance club, gym, and of course, the Penthouse is his home. The rest of his team each have an apartment in the building as well. You’ve even got your own loft apartment we use for visiting celebrities, or folks who are working on one of his albums.
“Does he ride the bikes?”
She grinned. “Bike enthusiast, huh?”
“You could say that.” I had to force the words out, even though I hadn’t yet ripped my gaze from the line of man-made beauty.