“I’m not a whore, Aaron. You know that.” I push and jolt my body forward wanting, needing to get away. That’s when things get worse.
Aaron lunges down and bites the space where my shoulder and neck meet. Hard. So hard I cry out, pain throbbing from the wound. He doesn’t seem to care and uses his superior strength against me. “I know my father hired you to be his whore in front of his fucked-up rich friends. I know that you work for an escort service and get paid by the month. Time to get Daddy’s money’s worth.”
“Dios mio, Mia. Please! I’m here. It’s Anton. Anton! I’m not going to hurt you!” Anton was holding me tight, arms locked around my body preventing any movement.
That clawing feeling was so strong I used every ounce of strength, turned in his arms and screamed. He released me as if I were a grenade that just landed in his hands. I ran to the trash can near the edge of the space and threw up. Violent, heaving spams wracked my frame. There wasn’t much there since I hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. Thank God. Mostly just coffee and bile. Anton stood close but not so close that the fear hit me again. His arms were crossed over his chest, his hat off and hanging on a string behind his back. His eyes were dark, and filled with sorrow, maybe even pity.
“Don’t look at me like that!” I growled and wiped my mouth on the back of my arm. I needed another shower. Sweat beaded on my brow, and my stomach clenched once more. Woozily I made my way to another bench nearby and sat. Anton followed but didn’t sit down.
He leaned down on one knee and waited until I lifted my chin, and our gazes held. “You can talk to me.” His tone was compassionate, filled with worry.
Frustration and anger hit me with a wallop. “You gonna talk to me?” I smacked my own chest. “What’s up with you and food, Anton?” I shot back.
Inhaling, he pinched his lips with his thumb and forefinger. Something dark turned his green eyes a hazy green. The lines in his face softened as he sighed. “I grew up poor. Very poor. So poor there were many days we survived on water and the scraps my siblings and I could scavenge in the dumpsters of the high priced restaurants near our shack of a home. Puerto Rico isn’t all sunshine, beautiful bikini-clad women and endless beaches. There are many parts that are still very much like a third world country. The east side of the island is very dangerous, and that’s where I grew up.”
“How many siblings do you have?”
“Two. One brother, one sister. But mi papa died when we were very young. Mi mama did the best she could, but there were too many nights I went to bed hungry. Years’ worth of a rumbling belly.” He stood and spread his arms out wide, the picture of the king of his castle. “No more. Mi mama now gets plenty of money from me and lives a quiet, happy life, not wishing for anything. Same with my hermanos. My siblings.” He clarified in English.
I closed my eyes and counted to ten, my only coping mechanism. When my heartrate settled I opened my eyes and spoke. “My last client had a son, a politician, very high up in the ranks as far as American politics go. He attacked me physically, tried sexually. Got very close to raping me. Too close.” Even the words tasted like putrid filth on my tongue.
“When?” The soft way he spoke made me believe I could trust him, share in a way I wouldn’t normally have considered with someone I’d only known a couple days.
“Close to three weeks ago.”
“Coño, that recent? Christ, Mia. Is the fucker in jail?”
And therein lay the problem. I shook my head, and his eyes narrowed. “I didn’t press charges.” Admitting it out loud hurt like a serrated knife to the gut. Even though I knew it was for the greater good, I still warred against the reality that he’d essentially gotten away with it. Yes, there were repercussions and demands being met that I set, but none that would ease that pit within, that hole in me that would only be filled with the knowledge that justice was served. “No. There were extenuating circumstances. I did what I had to do. There was no good option. If I took him through the system, more than the two of us would have been hurt, and a lot of people would see harm beyond what putting away one sick fuck would do.”
Anton nodded. “Sometimes the decisions we have to make are harder on us than anyone can ever comprehend.” He said the words with absolutely no judgement. I’d just told him that a vile man attacked and almost raped me, and I willingly didn’t put him behind bars. He knew nothing of the circumstances, but instead, chose to accept the decision I’d made as necessary. Why couldn’t I?
Making his intent clear, he sat next to me and opened his hand. Offering support and comfort. Scared, but determined to get past this, I placed my hand in his. Did it feel the way it felt when I held hands with Tai or Mace? No, it didn’t. Those two men knew what I went through and for some reason, I wasn’t affected by their touch in the days after the attack.
That now familiar fear tingled along my hand and I squeezed his once then pulled away. “Thank you,” I whispered.
His eyebrows rose into his hairline. “For what?”
“For not judging me.” My voice cracked, emotion taking the reins momentarily.
Anton took a slow breath. “I do not live your life. I cannot possibly understand how a decision one way or the other could be better or worse, for it is not mine to make. Only you have to live with your choices. I can see that this one is weighing very heavily on you.”
Nodding I inhaled and pressed my palms together until my knuckles turned white with tension.
“So, can we be friends without the other possibilities?” I asked, suddenly worried he may be upset with that particular decision.
“Are you attracted to me, Lucita?” Little light. Silly man.
“Yes,” I said without reservation.
“Yet you will deny yourself the pleasures of mating with me?”
I smiled wide. The pleasures of mating? Where does he come up with this stuff? “Unfortunately, I don’t think that a new mate is in my cards at this time. Plus, there’s sort of someone else.” Okay, I admitted it. What the hell was I going to do about it?
Anton smacked his thighs and stood. “Pity. I was looking forward to bedding you.”
“I don’t think you’ll be lacking any company for the foreseeable future.”
“This is true.” He waggled his eyebrows again. “Friends it is then?” He held out his hand this time as if to shake on a deal.
“Friends.”
He pulled up his hat and placed it on his head once more. “Now, as my friend, you’ll help me pull all these weeds.”
“I think I’d like that, Anton.” A little work in the sun, sweating out the nasty toxins of the emotions too close to the surface would be cathartic. “On one condition...” I added a hand to the hip and cocked my head to the side.
He grinned, a devilish, boyish gleam to his eyes that made me regret the “no mating” decision. “State your terms, woman.” His accent made his response sound absurdly suggestive.
“I want to drive one of your motorcycles.”
Anton’s head popped back and he chuckled. “You ride?” The shock evident in his body language and tone irked me.
“I don’t ride, doll,” I emphasized, using one of his endearments on him. “Baby, I drive.”
His happy expression gave me hope. He pursed his lips together. “I look forward to paying up on our deal.” He pointed over to a big basket. “Gloves over there, an extra hat, and a bucket.”
“Score!”
***
Maria De La Torre.
That was the choreographer’s name. Upon seeing her in person I almost swallowed my own tongue. Her raven hair rivaled my own in the bad ass hair department, and for a dancer, she had curves that wouldn’t quit. Thinner and more muscular than me, her body could have been etched in marble and worshipped for eons. She spoke English but switched into Spanish on a whim. Her ethnicity was unique. If I had to guess, I’d say Greek or Italian and maybe European Spanish. Definitely Mediterranean. All in all she was downright exotic. When she moved, all eyes were on her. Ther
e was a fluidity and grace about her, unlike any of the other dancers here.
“Seductress!” Maria called out, looking at a piece of paper. “A Mia Saunders?” She scanned the crowd until all heads turned to me.
I walked to the front of the dance studio where everyone was sitting. I had been holding up the wall in the back, not wanting to get in the way. She questioned each dancer, had them do a series of choreography, and then straight up nixed half of them. Right on the spot, she sent their assess packing. Brutal but effective.
Maria’s eyes were an ice blue as she took in my body. “You are not a dancer,” she said directly without even asking me to repeat the steps the others had gone through. I almost felt relieved I didn’t have to embarrass myself in front of the others.
“No, hired escort.” I shrugged and placed my hands on my hips.
Her eyes narrowed and a small V formed at the top of her brow. “Are you dating someone here?” she asked clearly. Thank goodness someone knew the actual definition of an escort and didn’t automatically assume I was a whore.
I smiled. “Anton and Heather hired me for this role. You can discuss the whys and rationale behind that decision with them.”
Maria tilted her head one way then the next. “Turn around.” I did as she requested. “Again.” I circled once more until I was facing her. “Can you dance?”
“Professionally?”
She laughed. “No, I know you can’t dance professionally. Your body doesn’t lie. Though I can absolutely see, based on your curves and your beauty, why you were chosen in the role of seductress. But I’m wondering, do you dance for fun, move your hips, hula, salsa, tango, anything?”
I shook my head, afraid of how she’d react, though she’d been perfectly professional the entire time, even when axing half the dancers. “Okay, I’ll have to think on your role and how we’re going to present you to the cameras. You wouldn’t be here for a hip hop video if Anton didn’t want you in that role. We’ll work around any deficiencies.”
That didn’t sound too bad. At least she didn’t cut me out of the production altogether. That would have been a lot easier, and I’d still have gotten paid, the whole no-take-backs clause perfectly in place. Somehow, the concept of failing or disappointing Anton, Heather, or my Aunt Millie for that matter, by being sent home, didn’t sit well with me. I was surprised to note that I was happy she’d kept me. The no-dancing bit and all.
Maria worked over the rest of the dancers. The room now held only a handful of backup dancers and me when Anton entered.
“Mamcita,” he greeted Maria in an enthusiastic, friendly hug. “Mama, you are looking damn fine.” He scanned the remaining individuals wandering around, stretching against the ballet barre, running through a series of steps. “Cleaned up shop, I see.”
Maria grinned. “Anton, you knew I was going to fire most of the dancers. You don’t need that many for what I have in mind. I listened to the song many times on the plane. Based on the concept I’ve come up with, you’re mostly going to need her”—she hooked a thumb towards me—“and maybe a couple more than what’s left here.” Heather’s eyebrows had risen but she stayed silent, standing a step behind where Maria and Anton were holding their conversation. I held up the rear, not wanting to miss out, but still trying to be the proverbial fly on the wall.
“Let’s go chat somewhere private. Unless you wanted to work tonight?” The question hung out there, waiting for her reply.
She tapped her lips with one finger. “No, vamos a dejar descansar esta. Van estar muertos de los pies con lo que he planeado para el resto de la semana.” She spoke in rapid fire Spanish, and a twisted curl adorned her lips.
Anton shook his head, grinning as he led the three of them out of the office. “Usted es una mujer malvada. Me encanta.” He led Maria towards the exit of the dance studio. When he reached the door he turned around, his eyes on me. “Lucita, you go where I go unless one of us”—he pointed to himself, Maria, and Heather in a crescent-shaped gesture—“says differently. Entiendes?”
I nodded, placed both hands in the back pockets of my jeans and followed them. He held the door open. His eyes left my face, made a short path down clocking my tits and around to give my ass a once over.
Maria chuckled. “Oh yeah, she’s a seductora all right.”
As we walked, I knocked shoulders with Heather. “Wish I knew what they said in Spanish back there.”
Heather tweaked her hair while we walked, fluffing certain parts. “Oh, Maria basically said that the dancers didn’t have to work tonight because they needed to rest. She plans on working their asses off the rest of the week.” I opened my mouth but no words came out. “Then Anton responded that she was a wicked woman...” The timbre of her voice changed when she finished with, “...and he loves that about her.”
“Damn girl, you know Spanish?”
Heather smiled. “Got Rosetta Stone the first week I started with Anton as his PA after graduating college four years ago. One week was all it took for me to realize if I was going to be any good in his world, I’d need to know exactly what he was saying—all the time. However, Puerto Rican Spanish is a bit different than Mexican or even European Spanish. For the most part, I get what they’re saying even when the wording or style changes. Kind of like how there are different dialects and slang depending on where you live in the States, be it Easterners, Midwesterners, Southerners and such.”
“Huh, that’s really cool though. I can tell how much you mean to Anton.”
Heather blushed and looked down before shrugging. “Perhaps you’re seeing something that isn’t there.”
I scrunched my eyebrows together and stopped her with a hand to her elbow. Anton and Maria moved ahead taking the elevator. “You guys coming?” Anton held the door open.
“Um, give us a minute?” I asked.
“O-kay,” he agreed and continued to chat in his native tongue to Maria.
“What gives? You’re acting strange now that Maria is here.”
Heather bit her bottom lip and leaned against the opposite wall. “With Maria here, all the ideas and concepts I came up with for the video are going to be completely forgotten. I’d convinced the old choreographer to add in some of the new things I came up with but now…” Her words just stopped, disappointment dripping off each sentence like a rusty, leaking faucet.
“Have you approached Anton about your concerns?” I asked.
She shook her head vehemently. “No, he wouldn’t listen anyway. Now that she’s here, all eyes and ears will be on everything she does and says.”
I cringed. “But I thought you wanted her here. You were yippy skippy to call her up and bring her out.”
“Because she’s the best. Anton deserves the best.”
Bringing my hands together in front of me into a steeple I thought on this for a moment. Was there more to this than she was admitting to?
“Are you in love with Anton?” The question left my lips before I could sugarcoat it or lead into it with more subtlety.
Heather’s eyes widened and she leaned over, hands braced on her knees as her entire body shook. Then the roar of laughter ripped from her lungs as she stood back up. Her eyes were teary, cheeks pinked, and full piggy snorts left her nose as she howled in unfettered glee.
Apparently I got that way wrong. “I’m guessing that’s a no then?” I asked.
“Sorry, no.” She wiped the tears tracking down her face and took an enormous lung-filling breath. Honey, I would never fall for him. I want a man who makes me a priority, not an option.” She chortled, “We both know Anton is lover to all, committed to none.”
Lover to all, committed to none. No truer words were spoken in my recent memory. Anton didn’t seem anywhere near the type to settle down or commit to one woman for any length of time. “Then why can’t you talk to him?”
“I don’t know. Every time I broach the subject of creative direction of a particular project he stonewalls me before I can express my ideas. I’m at the point
in my career, Mia, where I need to move forward or move on.”
I nodded. “So what are you going to do?”
“Well, between you and me”—she looked down the hall way ahead of us and then behind making sure the coast was clear—“I’ve been scouted by an agent for another musical group. Someone who’s prepared to give me the Creative Manager role, directly under the group’s talent agent. It’s for a hip-hop group out of New Jersey. A real up and comer. With the connections I’ve made and the concepts I already sketched out, the guy wants me bad. Willing to pay almost double my salary to get me to leave Anton.”
My eyes widened. “Wow, Heather, that’s incredible. What are you waiting for?”
Again, she bit down on her plump bottom lip. Her pretty blue eyes glanced sideways, and she kicked the toe of her shoe against the floor, dragging it along the carpet. “Um, it’s hard. I’ve been with Anton for four years. It’s always been about him. I mean, I have no real family. Only child. Parents died when I was very young. I was raised by my grandparents who have also passed.”
“Okay so what does that have to do with you making the decision to work somewhere else? Somewhere you’re going to be doing what you want, using the education you worked so hard to obtain, and the career you’ve already sacrificed your life to.”
She pressed a hand through her unruly blonde locks. “Mia, it’s so hard. Anton’s the closest thing to family I have. Even if I’m not his number one priority, he’s still mine.” Her shoulders slumped. “He’s my best friend, my only friend.”
“Oh honey,” I rubbed her arm.
“How sad is that? I’m loyal to a man who doesn’t give a hoot about me and yet, he’s all I’ve got.”
Grabbing Heather by the biceps I tugged her into my arms and hugged her. She held on tight. Interestingly enough, her touch didn’t send me into a mini panic attack. Tears poured down her cheeks as she clung to me and sniffed against my neck. I patted her hair and told her over and over that it was going to be okay. Eventually, the sobs turned into giggles. Pulling back, I wiped the tears running down her cheeks with my thumbs and looked her in the eye.
July (Calendar Girl #7) Page 4
