January (Calendar Girl #1) Anthology Anthology (80 page)

“Hello, Stephanie. It’s Mia, Millie’s niece. Is she there?”

“Millie? Who’s that?”

I sighed and smacked my head up against the palm of my hand. “I apologize, Millie is a nickname I use for my Auntie, Ms. Milan.” I lied.

“Oh! Okay, how fun. Let me ring her.” Her chirpy voice grated on my overtired nerves. If I could, I’d rip that singsong birdie from her throat and set that sucker free. “Ms. Milan will speak to you.” She said when she came back on the line.

I wanted to say, “Duh, I’m her family,” but instead held back my snark ending with, “Thank you, Stephanie.”

“No problem at all!” she giggled, and the line buzzed before the sultry voice of my auntie came online.

“Mia doll-face, how’s my favorite niece and escort?”

My eyebrows rose on their own accord. “Now I’m your favorite client?”

“Yes, darling. Of course you are. We are making a mint off your little month-long jaunts. Makes me wish we’d planned them for two week intervals and charged seventy-five a pop.”

I’m going to bet that my eyes popped out of my head the way those wacky stress balls do. You squeeze the body and the eyes darted out garishly. “Really?”

“Yep. Not only are you booked for the rest of the year, I now have a waiting list with a backlog of six gentleman that would like to take any of your months if we receive a cancellation.”

It took a few slow blinks and a moment for my brain to catch up with what she’d shared. “That’s crazy. I can’t imagine one wanting my company for a hundred K let alone six on a waiting list. Wild.”

“Hmm. Just proves that good company is hard to find. Especially with the special ability to not only help business, but know their place and look exceptional doing it. How is our nation’s capital treating you?”

I sat down next to the clothes I’d gathered and fingered a few of the threads. They really were quite extraordinary, made with the finest quality fabrics and tailored to fit me perfectly. Each piece looked incredible and gave me a feeling of confidence that I didn’t feel while duded up in sweats and a t-shirt. There was something to be said about dressing for the job you want not the job you had.

“Fine. Warren is happy, I think.”

“Oh, he is. Very much so. Received your fee a week in advance with an extra twenty-five thousand. Is there something I should know about?”

“What the fuck?” That baffled me. There was no reason he should have sent an extra twenty-five thousand. “We didn’t sleep together. I have no idea why he sent it. Maybe it was a mistake?”

A bunch of clacking noises could be heard in the background as I gripped the cellphone so hard in my hand it ached where the side dug into my palm. “Nope. Ah here we go. It’s a bonus.”

“A bonus? I don’t get it.”

“The fine print does state that if the client is exceptionally happy and wants to send additional monies by way of a bonus for services rendered they may.” She laughed. “Usually that’s how we track the money you receive when you have relations with them but he clearly states in his email that the extra is to be given to you because of some account you single-handedly secured.”

“The Benoits,” I whispered.

“What’s that, dear?”

“Oh, I...um...hit it off with one of the young wives. The woman got her husband to agree to the use of something that my client really needed in order for his project to be successful. I didn’t know it was so important that he’d send me a twenty-five thousand dollar bonus.”

Immediately, I knew exactly what a huge chunk of that money was going toward. My baby sister’s wedding to her dream man. I’d save at least ten or fifteen of it and make sure she’d get the wedding of a lifetime, paid for by her own family, not his. The Rains were amazing people and obviously loved the idea of adding my sister to their growing family, but she was
my
sister. My responsibility until that ring was on her finger. I couldn’t wait to tell her!

“Anyway, doll-face you’re going to get a kick out of your next client.”

I crossed my fingers. “Please tell me he’s a hottie and somewhere warm?”

“Oh honey, only a picture is going to do justice. Emailing now.” I heard the sound of her nails hitting the keys again. “His name is Anton Santiago but get this…he goes by Latin Lov-ah.” She snickered and must have tried to cover her mouth because the noise turned muffled.

“Latin Lov-ah? Why the hell would he go by that name?”

“Did you pull up the image?”

Looking at the display, I hit speaker. “Okay, you’re on speaker; let me check my email.” I clicked a few buttons and brought up my Gmail account and clicked on her message. A picture filled the screen. You know how people say that a picture is worth a thousand words? Right then, no truer words had ever been spoken. “Oh my, lickable Latino. That’s my client? Isn’t he…”

“A famous hip-hop artist, yes,” she said bluntly, but it really didn’t resonate. I was too busy mentally licking my cellphone screen.

The image was a svelte man wearing sagging black jeans that showed a solid inch wide bit of fabric that was obviously his underwear. The stark red band with black writing that said “M&S” which I now knew was Mark & Spencer fashion out of the UK. Hector, my BFF—Boy Friend Forever as he claimed it meant—taught me enough about the designers to get by. The lovely cotton hugged Anton’s enticingly trim waistline. I traveled up the stairway of one helluva cut abdomen that was slick with sweat up to the pair of square outlines that boasted seriously tight pecs. His neck was corded as he leaned up against what seemed to be a push-up bar. His wrists were wrapped in that white tape that boxers used to protect their wrists as he gripped the bar.

All of this was absolutely delicious, but nothing prepared me for the face. Angels could have wept at a face like that. Mocha-colored skin with fierce black hair and pale hazel eyes stared back at me. The eye color was a cross between green and brown but light enough against that dark skin to stand out as uniquely as my own. And I wasn’t being conceited. I’d heard my eyes were incredible since birth. If I’m out and about, I’m told every day by random strangers how amazing, or cool, or neat they thought the pale green color was. This guy, my next client, Mr. Latin Lov-ah himself, had eyes that dazzled.

I took in the pic in its entirety. A gold, bulky necklace hung around his neck with a chunky heart layered with diamonds covering its surface sat at his sternum. On anyone else it would have been gaudy or tacky. On him, it added character and fit the persona of the heartthrob Latin lover he claimed to be. A pair of pouty, cherub-like lips formed a sexy smirk, and I knew just from this one picture that I intended to get me some of that.

“Day-um,” I said in my best Latina accent.

Millie cackled. “Figured you’d like that. Am I forgiven for the oldie but goodie?” she asked referring to Warren, my sixty-five year old client.

“Oh yeah, big time.”

“Good, I’ll send the details and make the arrangements. You’ll be headed to Miami, Florida for this gig.” Miami? I held back the woot woot. “Was there anything else?” Millie asked.

“Oh yeah, one more thing. Why is he hiring me?”

The line went very quiet. I let myself fall back onto the bed. “Auntie…”

“He wants you to be the lead in his new video. Some single he’s releasing later this year.”

“A video? As in a music video? Like where I’ll have to dance and act?” The acting part wasn’t so bad. At least it was closer to what I had originally planned on doing with my life.

“Yes, darling. You’ll do whatever they want. I don’t know. Look hot, pretend to love Mr. Love-ah, dance, you know, whatever the youngsters like seeing nowadays.”

A noise like a cat dying escaped my lungs. “Auntie, I don’t dance.”

She smacked her lips. “Well, I guess they’ll teach you, won’t they. He wants you. Saw your art from the Love on Canvas campaign, apparently bought one of the pieces. When he saw the Hawaiian campaign come out and the pics of you with Weston Channing and Mason Murphy in the smut mags he said you were his ideal flame for the shoot. Whatever that meant.”

I shook my head and blew a loud breath, the force expanding my cheeks with the effort. “Okay, I guess I’ll just see what happens. Miami sounds fun though.”

“Glad you think so, doll-face. I need to go, I have a client waiting.”

“Okay, but oh crap! One more thing: Maddy’s engaged.”

“Excuse me? I just sent the girl a present for her twentieth birthday. A gift card to Starbucks that should keep her in coffee for the year. What do you mean, she’s engaged?” He tone was a tad hostile and I understood why. Aunt Millie did not believe in the sanctity of marriage. Hell, I wasn’t sure I believed in it after what my parents and Aunt Millie had gone through.

“Says she’s in love with the guy. Just moved in with him, too. I’ve met the guy and the family. They’re really nice…uh, normal even. Very much a perfect TV family.”

“Those are the ones that are the most fucked up.” She cursed which she didn’t often do.

“I know, but I got a really good feeling. Besides, they are going to finish their bachelor’s then get married in a couple years.”

Millie huffed loudly, sounding very put out by the news. “Unless she gets pregnant first. Then her dream of being a scientist and all the work you’ve put into paying for her schooling is gone. Poof. Disappeared in the blink of an eye and replaced with a snotty, shitting, crying ball of flesh that ties you down for the rest of your life.”

“Wow, tell me how you really feel.” I threw back trying to lighten the heaviness that had taken over the conversation.

“I feel she’s too young to be committing to some college prick with a loaded dick.”

I pursed my lips and thought about the best way to approach this. “I’ll make sure she’s taking care of the baby factor and that the doors are firmly locked down. But they really are waiting for a couple more years. The moving in together bit, I can’t help but be relieved about.”

“If it’s about money, I’ll send her whatever she needs to get through the year.”

“It’s not about money, Auntie. It’s about her being in love and feeling safe. The neighborhood is not the best and she’s all alone in Pops’ house. Ginelle drives by the house, but like you said, she’s young, and of course beautiful and naïve. I don’t want her getting hurt. If playing house with her fiancé is going to keep her safe, I’m all for it.”

Aunt Millie inhaled audibly, her breath sounding even more ragged then before. “Fine. I just worry about her.”

“Me too, but it’s all good. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Please do.”

“Love you, Aunt Millie.”

“I love you, too, my darling girl.” And the line went dead.

Well, fuck me running; that was an incredibly uncomfortable call I hadn’t anticipated. Of course, the highlight was the sexy Latin Lov-ah. I made a mental note to download some of his songs on my iPod so I could listen on the plane and get up to date with his tunes before I became the face of his next music video love interest. The only problem is that this white girl cannot dance. I didn’t even know what the hell people were talking about when they said, ‘raise the roof’, or ‘drop it like it’s hot’. One song I shimmied with said something about, “She hit the floor…next thing you know…shorty got low, low, low, low, low.” Why was it sexy to smack the floor and get low? Did the woman sit, or kneel? I guess kneeling could be sexy if the girl was mimicking giving head, but I couldn’t imagine that would be a popular dance move.

Oh well. Perhaps I’d look up some of his videos on YouTube so I could hit the floor and get low without embarrassing myself.

***

Once my things were laid out on the bed, I took a trek through the enormous mansion in search of Kathleen or Warren. I found Warren first in his office. Lightly, I knocked on the door, not wanting to be too disruptive.

“Come in.” His grumble came through the hard wood door.

I entered and he looked up, and stopped whatever he was writing. “Are you ready to fly out tonight?”

“Yep. Hey, I had a question if you don’t mind me asking.”

His bushy brows rose. He gestured for me to sit in the chair opposite his desk. “Is Kathleen coming along on the trip?”

He shook his head. “No, why?”

This time my eyebrows rose. “I guess I just find it odd that you aren’t taking your girlfriend with you.”

He set down his pen and clasped his hands into a steeple, resting his chin on his fingertips. “Frankly, it never dawned on me that she would be interested in going.”

“When was the last time she took a vacation?”

Warren’s gaze drifted over to the window as he thought about it. “I can’t say that I recall.”

“And, when was the last time you took her out to dinner.”

His head jerked back. “Dinner? She makes dinner for me. It’s part of her job. Why ever would I take her out to eat?”

I closed my eyes, exhaled slowly, and counted to ten. “Warren, this is going to sound harsh, but it’s for your own good, and I think you can handle it.” As his eyes slanted, a line appeared at the top of his nose. Clearly, he was distressed. “You are not treating her well.”

His shocked expression surprised me. This couldn’t be news to him. “I beg to differ. Kathleen has run of the house, sleeps by my side every night, buys the finest flowers, food…”

“That’s all for you!” My tone came out biting and he opened his mouth then closed it again. “I’m sorry.” I leaned forward and put my hand over his. “Warren, you’re keeping her locked in this house as your staff, not your girlfriend. You don’t take her on dates, buy her flowers.” He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “You let her buy flowers for the house. That’s not the same as a man who cares about you bringing you a bouquet he picked out or sending you some himself.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Go on. You obviously have more to say. Say it.”

I licked my lips. “The woman loves you. Would do anything for you, yet you keep her here as if she’s a secret you’re embarrassed about.”

His entire face got red. “Did she say that?”

I shook my head. “Not in so many words, but that’s the gist I got. You come home to her every day; you let her serve your meals, don’t eat with her, and expect her to lay down with you every night and just be okay with it?”