July (Calendar Girl #7) by Audrey Carlan

shoulders.
    It took a minute, but he finally got the message. He picked up a hand towel that was dangling over the couch and wiped the sweat off his face. “Oh yeah, H? How come you didn’t say before?” His eyebrows narrowed in an unspoken accusation.
    Heather’s mouth tightened and her jaw locked. “Anton, I tried many times to tell you my ideas. You told me to work out anything with the choreographer, and you’d see the end result.”
    That’s when Maria and I both took in the staring contest the two of them had going on. “ Mi amiga , since you have hired me as the new choreographer, how about you tell me your ideas and we can bounce them off one another over dinner. Suena bien ?”
    “I can call in some takeout?” I offered.
    “That’s my job,” Heather sighed.
    I shook my head. “Not tonight it’s not. How does sushi sound?” I practically danced in my pants, which really was more a jumble of limbs complete with a shoulder shimmy. Maria watched the display and then groaned whispering in Spanish, so low I could barely hear it, “ Tengo mi trabajo por de lante. ”
    “What did she say?” I pointed an accusing finger at Maria while speaking to Heather. Maria’s eyes lit up with mischief and a saucy grin.
    Heather clapped me on the shoulder and handed me her credit card. “Relax. She just said something about having her work cut out for her. Nothing offensive.”
    Shooting daggers her way, I snarled. “I’ve got my eyes on you.”
    Both Anton and Maria laughed and walked towards the kitchen. “Drink, Mia?” Anton called out.
    “Yeah, whatever you’re having is fine.”
    I turned and headed to the sitting room. I pulled out my phone bringing up the Grub Hub app. Right off the bat Yummy Chinese and Sushi Bar popped up with over a hundred Yelp ratings as well as an average of five stars. And the kisser…free delivery! Winner winner, sushi dinner!
    ***
    “No, no, no, you’re not getting it!” Heather’s words were biting and fueled by the top shelf vodka we’d been imbibing. She stood and walked to the center of the room. A third round of fruity martinis was laid out on the table in front of us, courtesy of a Mia’s-badass-bartending-skills special. I patted myself on the back and waited for Heather to make her point. “My vision was a very Michael Jackson’s Billie Jean meets Billy Joel’s Uptown Girl .”
    Maria scanned the notes in front of her, bobbing her head from side to side, the new song Anton had written playing on repeat to keep the muse enchanted. “ Si, si , I feel you. Mia can be strutting her stuff like so.” She mimicked a sexy, sultry walk. “Then Anton will follow behind her, keeping a bit with the Michael Jackson hip sway and fast feet but with his own hip-hop, Latin fusion style,” she said excitedly.
    Anton pounced after Maria when she repeated the moves. While she swayed her hips, I paid close attention because this would eventually be my role when the cameras were on. “See Mia, come here.” I stood, rather tipsy, wiped my sticky martini fingers on my jeans, and followed her lead. She turned around and grabbed my hips as though she was a man dancing with me. “Now, pretend I’m not here and move your hips when I tap your side.”
    We walked a few steps, she tapped. I swayed back and forth picking up her rhythm. “Now stop and bend down, and touch your toes slowly, as if you’re going to tie your shoe. Then caress your legs all the way up, past your waist and over your breasts.”
    I did what she said. “ Tan caliente, ” Anton murmured. He pressed his hands against my hips and rubbed his groin along my ass. He wasn’t hard, but that icky vibe hit out of nowhere and I broke out in a sweat.
    “An-ton,” I warned. My lip trembled, betraying the fear that must have been evident in my eyes, saying something I wasn’t able to vocalize, because his hands left me as if they’d been burned.
    “Sorry, muñeca ”
    I turned around and placed a hand on his chest.