July (Calendar Girl #7)(7)
I sipped my wine and looked out over the ocean. The breeze wafted around us but the heat lamps near our table provided enough warmth. “That assistant of yours is pretty efficient.”
Anton smiled. “She is. That’s why I keep her.”
“May I be frank?” I asked pressing my lips together, waiting.
He leaned back, crossed an ankle to his knee and spread his arms out. “Of course.”
“Why do you have that harsh tone with her? Don’t you ever worry she’ll leave you?” I truly wondered why anyone would stay with a man who acted like his shit didn’t stink half of the time, and the other half laid back and easy going. It was as though there were two completely different sides to him.
“What would make you think that?” His eyes narrowed.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe the way you bark at her over the phone, walk in front of her like she’s your peon, and throw orders at her while walking away.”
Anton scowled. “I value Heather’s opinion over all others. Hers is the only one I give credence to…ever. I trust her implicitly.”
“Could have fooled me.”
Anton grabbed his drink and inhaled the rest of his Shiraz. “Has she said anything to you about leaving?” His tone proved that the idea of Heather leaving him was not a welcome one.
“No! Not at all. I do get the hint that she wants more.”
“More?” The question hung heavy. “As in a relationship?”
I shook my head. Was he really that narcissistic? Scanning his body and the face angels would weep for, I guess he had a right to be. Sort of. “Not that I know of. I was referring to her work. Something she mentioned about her dream being to manage an artist. You seem to be lacking a manager at this time.”
Anton’s hand came up to his mouth where he stroked that supremely kissable bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “I don’t have one. Usually I just bounce all the decisions off of H and she sets everything up.”
Interesting. “So, she’s kind of already managing you without the benefits or clout the title of Manager carries. Bummer for her.” Nonchalantly I fiddled with my hair and adjusted my seat so I was facing the water to give him space. The ocean is absolutely stunning. A pang hit my heart as I realized how much I missed home.
Home.
Crap. It looked like I’d inadvertently answered a question I’d been mulling over for the better part of a few months.
Home was California.
Chapter 3
The sun streaked through the curtains blinding me in its glory. Day three and I finally felt as though I’d gotten enough sleep. Yesterday was a whirlwind of meetings with the beautician, stylist, and crew. Tonight we would meet the choreographer. She would be flying in this morning and wanted a meet and greet with the entire team in the dance studio right away. Hopefully, that didn’t mean she was going to be a hard ass drill sergeant type. Anxiety and excitement warred in equal parts, skittering along my senses as I wondered if she’d be able to get me shimmying in a way that wouldn’t look like Elaine from that dreaded Seinfeld episode Dad loves.
This white girl can’t dance. It’s always been a bone of contention with me and my agent. I can carry a tune, act, and apparently model well enough, but I’ve never been gifted with the art of dance. Ginelle, however, can dance her way out of a hurricane. Her work with Dainty Dolls Burlesque put her on the map and the stage loves her. Even pint-sized she packs a lot in her tiny form and can move across the stage better than anyone I know.
Sadness swirled around me like a cloak. Gin would’ve loved being here to meet with a fancy choreographer from San Francisco. Once I find out who it is, I’ll have to give her a heads up, see what she knows, if anything, about the mysterious woman that Anton is head over heels for. Well, as far as her dancing is concerned.
My phone pinged as I turned it on. I scanned the messages, bleary eyed from a full night’s sleep. One message was from Maddy, updating me about school, thanking me for the most recent check I sent for books and food. It still irked me that I didn’t have to pay for her living expenses anymore. I took deep breaths and let go a little more every day. I’ll never fully let go of my responsibility when it comes to my baby sister. It’s far too ingrained into the very fiber of my being. However, I have to constantly remind myself that she’s an adult, one who is living with her now fiancé with her career and future goals all laid out in front of her. She’s happy, healthy, and in a good place, with a guy who seems to dote on her every whim. He better stay that way or I’ll tie the f*cker down and pluck out every hair on his chest one at time with my handy dandy tweezers.
The next message chills my blood. Oh, that bestie of mine is going to get it. There’s only one way that he’d know about my birthday and that’s if someone told him.
To: Mia Saunders
From: Wes Channing
Little birdie told me your birthday was next week and that you’re in Miami. Carve out a day away. You can’t possibly want to spend your birthday with a stranger. I’m coming to see you. Be ready. We’ve got months to make up for.
With a flourish I rang the little snake that gave away the goods.
“H-ullo,” a sleepy voice answered. “Mia, you okay?” She responded again, this time a bit more alert.