July (Calendar Girl #7)

by Audrey Carlan

  “What if she needs to go?”

  He narrowed his brows and cringed. “I’m already famous. Working with me gives her more of a name than a new wannabe star.”

  “And are you prepared to give her the clout she needs?”

  “Clout?”

  “You know, the respect. The role.”

  His eyes and nose scrunched up. “Is that what this is about? Her not wanting to be my assistant?”

  I wanted to say, “uh, duh,” but refrained as he was obviously clueless. “It seems to me that Heather is pretty smart.” He nodded. “Beautiful.” Again he agreed. “But she’s so much more than just your assistant. That night, you yourself said she managed everything right. Or at the very least had a hand in everything.”

  “Yeah, so? What’re you getting at? Lay it out for me, Lucita.”

  Taking a bite of gelato and letting it melt on my tongue, I swallowed and put down my spoon. “I think she wants to be your business manager slash agent. I don’t know enough about the industry to say exactly, but if she’s setting up your shows, running your team, taking care of you”—I picked up the spoon and pointed it at him—“then it sounds to me like she’s already doing the job without the pay, respect, or title under her belt, and floundering to try and get it all done alone. Maybe she needs a PA!” I snorted.

  Both of his hands came up to his face, and he slid them over his forehead and down past his nose and lips betraying his frustration. “You’re right, Mia. Cristo en una cruz, tienes razón.” I could pretty much figure it out without asking for a translation.

  “The girl has no life beyond you. You know, she told me that she didn’t have any friends except you. That you were her only family. Her best friend.”

  “She said that?” His eyes darkened, and he cupped his chin in the palm of his hand. I nodded. “Hell, H has always been my best friend.”

  “You ever tell her that?”

  “I assumed she just knew.” His tone revealed how destroyed he was by the knowledge of Heather’s unhappiness.

  I laughed. “You know what they say about people who assume right?”

  His eyes hardened and one side of his lip curled as he shook his head.

  “Assuming makes an ass out of you and me. Get it! Ass-ume!”

  Anton shook his head and plowed into his green ice cream once more. “You’re a nut. Anyone ever tell you that?”

  “All the time, but usually, my best friend Ginelle comes up with more colorful language.”

  When I said the words ‘best friend’, Anton’s form slumped again. He picked up his unfinished treat and tossed it into the trash. A hard line formed between his brows and a slight scowl marred his handsome face.

  “Let’s go. You have rehearsal, and I need to talk to my girl.”

  Internally, I did a mighty fist pump followed by a touchdown dance.

  Then I looked at the Super Duke I was riding and did it all over again.

  Chapter 6

  “Again!” Maria roared. “No. Stop the music.” She waved her hand up high in the air, and the music cut out.

  I stood in the corner waiting for my turn to be battered. I’d been working on the same scene all day. Mostly, I did an ultra-sexy walk, followed by a hip swivel one way, then the other, bend down, back up, shimmy the tits and arch back. Eventually, Anton would be following behind me, doing his moves with the backup dancers. Some of the moves I learned would be consistent with whatever he was learning and going to do with his body. In all honesty, it was nothing compared to the paces that Maria was putting these other dancers through, and I was already beat. It had been a long fricking day. I needed a shower, food, and bed. Besides, tomorrow was my birthday, and Anton had given me the full day off. That also meant that Wes would arrive.

  Equal parts excitement and trepidation warred with one another as I thought about my laid-back, movie-making surfer. I wanted to see Wes so bad I could feel the ache in my teeth. However, I also didn’t want my heart to be broken when I told him I was ready to be exclusive. A one-woman gal. His gal. Hopefully.

  In order to do that though, he’d have to cut Gina DeLuca loose. No more casual sex with the nation’s hottest movie actress. Even the mere thought of her made the green-eyed monster rear her disgustingly ugly head. If we were going to do this, we had to commit. Fuck. Commit. That was one word I hadn’t said in a long time or place anywhere near the opposite sex. Mostly because every time I did, I got screwed over one way or another.

  “Mia, hermosa, come here.” Maria pointed to a spot on the floor where a black X had been placed. This was where I needed to stop and do my own body roll against Anton in the video. She made sure I knew exactly how many steps it took, where each one of my limbs needed to be, and how all the other dancers would be placed. Between her and Heather, they had all the dancers lusting after me, dancing around my form while I walked, sat, and leaned against a wall. There were several different pieces I had to learn, but most of them, I had down. She was a kind choreographer with a bottomless well of patience. Every time I messed up the other dancers would scowl, knowing they would have to do it again. Maria, however, had no problem running them through their paces over and over again. She insisted it perfected their parts.

  Maria positioned me and then pretended to be Anton’s character. “Go through your moves.” Her eyes cut to the dancers. “I’m not doing this because Mia needs help. You all are slacking. I don’t care if you’re tired. I don’t care if your muscles are sore and your feet hurt. You want to be in the biggest hip-hop video to date?” Her blue eyes turned ice-cold as she clocked each one of them with a glare. “This is what it costs. Trabaja por el. Work for it!” She repeated the admonishment in English as she often did. “Now Mia, start from the beginning.”

  I went back to the corner of the room and took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and set my sights on what I wanted to accomplish. This was my first music video. My face would be on televisions, Internet feeds, and cellphones all over the globe. You so got this girl. Nail it for Maria, for the dancers, for Anton…to hell with all that, I’m nailing this shit for myself!

  The music came on, the lights dimmed, and I swayed my hips and shoulders from side to side. Very Jessica Rabbit. When the right note hit, I strutted across the floor. Before I could move more than five steps a pair of masculine hands were on my hips.

  The base of the music hit harder, I closed my eyes and went for it, arching my back, allowing Anton to grind into my behind as I laid my hand on the back of his neck. The aroma of coconut drifted around me in a cocoon of fun in the sun. Hips hit, hands gripped, and Anton spun me around, then did a body roll from my thighs up past my pelvis to my belly where he arched back. I mimicked it, pushing my body hard. He fell back to the ground, the same as the dancers did as if I’d knocked him out with my body. Then he was up on his knees pumping his hips up towards me in a graphic display of his manhood.

  “Ride it baby, ride… **thrust**

  “With me, I’ll go all night…”

  “Let me do you right…” **thrust**

  “And ride it baby, ride…”

  The music matched our movements perfectly. Towards the end of the song, Anton did some crazy, urban ninja-style run-and-leap off the mirrors of the studio, landing on his feet where he tugged my waist, got to his knee and draped me over it. My back arched almost painfully over his knee, and he laid a hard, smacking kiss on my mouth.

  And that’s when it happened…again.

  I got a nice fist to his mouth, cutting open his lip before he restrains my hands with one of his, then gropes my body with the other. Wild drops of crimson trail down his chin, his teeth turning a sickening, vile red. Aaron crushes me against the concrete wall. A piercing pain grates along the tender skin of my back as the coarse surface abrades my skin raw. His lower half presses harder, over and over while he dry-humps me, his erection like a steel pipe digging into my sex.

  I start to scream, but he puts his mouth over mine so fast that nothing but a garbled so
und escapes. I’m screaming bloody murder when I hear the sickening jingle of his belt being unbuckled and the noise of the zipper opening, each tooth unlocking as if in slow motion. Aaron retaliates by biting down on my lips and slamming my head against the concrete. I see stars and rainbows across my vision, and things are now hazy. He yanks on the hem of my dress, pulling it tight as he slides it up to my waist. The cool air slithers across my bare flesh. More swirls of distorted light still splinter across my vision. I blink several times, trying to stay conscious. Aaron’s fingers slide down my stomach reaching his target and he cups my sex roughly, pressing into the soft tissue. I hear myself whimper as bile rises up into my throat, the intense burn gagging me so bad I want to vomit.

  “I’m going to fuck you so hard, take you like the whore you are. Fucking white trash,” he roars, spittle splattering against my face. This is the man who’d touched me while I slept, and when confronted, showed no remorse. Aaron Shipley, Senator for California, is about to rape me. Right here, out in public with a giant party going on not more than two hundred feet away.

  I feel the head of his cock where he presses it against my legs as he grinds it along my thigh. I whisper, “No,” and shake my head only to receive a gut-twisting grin in reply. He puts a hand over my mouth muffling the sound of my scream. I bite down on the flesh of his hand, salt and the coppery taste of blood fill my mouth. He curses and smashes my head into the wall again. I can’t hold myself up and slump against the surface. my body feeling almost weightless, and as the darkness takes me, I am sure he is going to rape me.

  “Get your fucking hands off me!” I screamed loud enough to tear the house down.

  “Mia, no, no! Lo siento. Lo siento. I’m sorry. Lucita, come back. Shit!” Anton cradled my head as I came around. My stomach rolled and churned. Staggering to my feet, I ran over to the nearest trash can and hurled my lunch. Maria stood over me, holding my hair back, whispering calming soothing things into my ear.

  When I’d finished, a towel and a bottle of water were thrust into my hand. I gulped the refreshing liquid, but it went down as if I was swallowing razor blades, until all the bile washed back down.

  Maria’s eyes were hard, now dark, and cold. She took my hand and brought me to a small room off the side of dance studio.

  “Who’s hurting you? I know people. Very very rich people who will not stand for a good woman being hurt by a scumbag.”

  I shook my head. “Maria, no, it’s not what it looks like.”

  Her hands flew to her hips and she cocked her head to the side, black tendrils escaping her ponytail. “Really? Because it seems to me that someone hurt you, bad enough that you are having flashbacks. Not to mention the fact that you freeze every time one of the male dancers or Anton touch you. So tell me, is that not true? Am I imagining this shit? I know exactly what a battered woman looks like, hermosa because I was one. For many years. Not okay with allowing that shit to happen to good women and neither are my friends. Hell, Anton wouldn’t stand for it.”

  Pushing my hair back, I took a deep breath and looked at her. “Anton knows. There’s nothing any of you can do about it. It’s been handled.” I lied. Technically it had been handled so that wasn’t a lie. The way I was dealing with the end result, on the other hand, had not been handled.

  “I need more, Mia, because right now, I’m flaming mad. As in muy caliente and not in a good way. I want blood. So speak. Even if it hurts, even if you cry, want to hit something. You have to get it out. You cannot let this stay bottled in. Believe me, I’ve been through it and come out on the other side stronger and smarter.” Her statement was almost a speech—no, a benediction. Something she believed one hundred percent. Something that was private, part of her very soul, and she was strong enough to share it with me.

  “My last client had a son that attacked me, sexually and physically. I was in the hospital for a few days.” Her eyes widened and blazed like a thousand fires set in a forest of dead trees. “I’m getting past it, but I’m having a little trouble with being touched. It’s weird. I don’t get it.”

  Maria came over to me and sat down on the desk in the center of the room where I leaned. “It’s not weird. Once your trust has been broken by the opposite sex, it can be hard to get it back. Does Anton know?” I nodded. “Then he shouldn’t have kissed you or held you that way.”

  I let out a frustrated breath. “Anton and I have been working on it. The dancing has been okay, even when he holds on to me, but the second he bent me over him in that way and kissed me, I-I went back there. To that night.”

  She nodded and put her arm around me. “For one, Anton shouldn’t have done what he did.” I tried to interrupt her but she held up her hand. “No, he knew your issue, and then threw you over his body in a way that put you in a vulnerable sexual position. That wasn’t smart. I’ll talk to him about his improvisation. That little scene was not part of the choreography. As a matter of fact, that cabron isn’t supposed to have gotten the seductress. The whole point is she’s off limits!” Her indignation was high. Her perfectly sculpted, black eyebrows narrowed, and her pretty mouth moved into a pout.

  “He probably just got lost in the moment,” I offered with a small smile.

  She squinted. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll deal with handsy.” Once more, she squeezed my shoulder. “You will be okay. It’s going to take time. You should probably find a professional to talk to about it. I will say, telling me, Anton, and others who care for you will help.”

  That made me think of Ginelle. I needed to talk to her about it. Really talk to her about it, not sweep it under the rug and pretend it was nothing. I needed to lay it out so that I had her to bounce things off of. She’d be angry. More than angry. Downright homicidal, but she’d listen, let me vent, help me get past it. That’s what I’d do. Later this evening I’d give her a call and hash it out.

  “Now, we have this scene down. You’re off tomorrow. Why don’t you go to your apartment. Do you want to do dinner tonight?”

  I shook my head. “Sorry, Maria. I’m beat. I’d like to take a bath, make a PB & J, and veg out in front of the TV before passing out. Do you have any idea how hard you worked us? And physically, I didn’t have a crazy involved part like the other guys!”

  Her eyes gleamed, the previous ire cooling, bringing back her normal silver-blue eyes that I swear you could stare at for days and never tire of.

  “Hard work is good for you. Makes you appreciate the end product more.”

  We stood and she led me back to the room.

  Anton had been pacing the floor, almost wearing a hole in it. “Lucita!” His shoulders slumped. “I got caught up. Lo siento. Please, forgive me.” He looked immensely sad, heartbroken, as if he’d done something horribly wrong. He didn’t. Sure he might have lost sight for a moment, but his response to the mood of the room and the way the routine was going perfectly was natural. If I weren’t so screwed up, it would have been fun, well received even.

  “Anton, seriously, it’s fine.” I walked over to him and opened my arms. He walked into them and stood there letting me hug him. When his hands weren’t clasping me, it was easy to be near him. Comfortable. “You can hug me.”

  He lifted his arms and pulled me into his chest harder. The niggling fear and anxiety started up, but I pushed it down. Anton was a good man with a huge heart. He made a mistake that wouldn’t have even been a mistake if I hadn’t been the victim of an assault. “I’m sorry, Mia. It won’t happen again,” he whispered in my ear and released me.

  Maria clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “That’s all for today folks. Go on home. Tomorrow you get a day off and then it’s back to a couple of days for rehearsal where we’ll perfect the routines. Then we tape!” The ten dancers hooted and hollered, smacking high fives to one another, doing the man-hug thing.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Anton asked as Heather entered the room. She noticed our position and frowned. I tried to smile at her as she approached.

  S
he stopped about four feet from us, crossed her arms over her chest, and pursed her lips. “Word is you want to talk to me?”

  Anton bristled. “Chilly reception,” he murmured and I laughed, hugged him once more, and pulled away.

  “You getting food?” Heather asked.

  I shook my head. “Nope, eating in tonight. Need to rest and take a hot bath to soak these muscles!” I spoke loud enough for Maria to hear. She did a tit lift and a head tilt while laughing, obviously proud of herself. Damn, the bitch was cool. Everything from her sumptuous body to her dancing ability, her beauty, she was all that and a bag of chips. I wondered if she had a guy. Alec would rock her world. Hell, Alec had rocked my world and often.

  No more Alec.

  I sighed and moved to Heather, hugged her close and whispered, “Go easy on him. He may be clueless, but he loves you like a sister. Give him the benefit of the doubt okay?” I pushed back and held her at arm’s length. Her blue eyes filled with unshed tears and she nodded. “Okay, go get ‘em tiger,” I said and smacked her ass hard as I passed.

  “Ouch! Bitch!” she yelled, though the enthusiasm in her tone proved she wasn’t mad.

  I flicked a hand behind my back giving her the finger. “Sit on it and spin!”

  Behind me, I could hear her say to Anton. “Can you believe her?”

  Anton laughed then a muffled oompf filled my ears. I turned around to see Anton squeezing the life out of Heather. “Don’t leave me, H. I need you.”

  “You don’t need me.”

  “Bullshit! You take care of me.”

  I waited to see how she’d respond. “Yeah, you know what, I do. Time for you to realize that and make something of it or I’m walking.”

  “You walk and I’ll run after you. No other band is getting my manager,” he roared.

  “Manager?” The word came out broken and gritty, almost as if it hurt to say it.

  “That’s right. People want me to play their venues? They go through my manager. They want me to pimp their product? They go through my manager. They want me doing awards shows? They go through my manager. And that, chica, is you. From here on out, Heather Renee is the Latin Lov-ah’s Manager.”