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. There 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.