Anton’s eyes screwed into white-hot points. “You’re shitting me? You’re blaming me for being unlucky in love?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “No. I am not shitting you! When the nation’s biggest hip-hop artist trails into your home unannounced, looking the way you do and calling me baby, it doesn’t leave the best impression on future suitors.” Her hand came up to her forehead and she pressed her finger and thumb into her temples. “Why do I put up with this?” she grumbled under her breath.
Anton’s shoulders slumped and he lifted her chin. “H, baby, talk to me?”
“Talk to you! I’ll talk to you. I’ve been offered another job. One I think I’m going to take. How about that for idle chat!” Her voice was loud in the cavernous room.
“What! You are not fucking leaving me!” he roared.
Oh no. Both Maria and I backed up a couple steps until we hit the edge of the counter. Heather lifted a pointed finger. “I’m tired of you not listening to me. Not promoting me!” Her voice rose, and I lifted my martini to my lips. Maria did the same as we watched the fight unfold.
“Listen to you? You’re the only one I listen to!” he countered. “And you’ve never asked for a promotion! What do you want? More money? Done!”
Heather’s face contorted into a grimace, an expression so wrought with pain even I could feel the heat of her ire. “It’s not always about fucking money! Uggh, you’re so infuriating.” She yanked on her hair and spun around to face the wall of windows overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. “Maybe it’s best that I move on.”
Anton took two steps and put his hands on her shoulders. “No. I won’t let you go.” The words were laced with regret.
“You may not have a choice. This is my life,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes.
“You’re it for me. I can’t work with anyone else.”
“And I can’t be your assistant any longer.”
He grimaced. “You’re not my fucking assistant. True, you handle me but you handle everything! What do you want from me? Just ask H, and it’s yours. I can’t go where I want to go without you there by my side.”
Maria nudged me. “Are they fucking?” If I didn’t know better I would have assumed the same thing. I shook my head. “Maybe they should be,” she remarked.
“Nah, its sibling rivalry. Kind of like a fight with your BFF. Do you have any friends?”
A huge grin lit her face and made her impossibly more pretty. Bitch. I wanted to hate her, but she was way too cool and had proved herself a force to be reckoned with. She was also utterly professional on top of being good at what she did. “Three soul sisters. Those bitches own me. Drive me absolutely loco. It’s like that, only these two have never told one another of their importance. We’re seeing the aftermath of that error.”
Her lips formed a silent “O” as we continued to watch the smackdown. Unfortunately, it ended all too quickly with Heather storming off and slamming the condo door. Damn, I must have missed the good part.
“Shit!” Anton yelled. “Terca puta mujer!” he added.
I looked at Maria. “I think that’s our cue.”
She nodded. “When a man is hollering about a crazy stubborn woman, it’s best that we don’t get in the way of him letting off that steam.”
We tiptoed silently out of the kitchen and left the condo. We were both staying in one of the furnished apartments for guests so we got out at the same floor.
Maria went one way and I went the other. “Hey,” I called out to her.
“Yeah?”
“Do you think I’ll be able to do the job well enough?”
“Of course you will. You’ve got me to teach you.” She winked, opened her door, and waved.
***
The engine rumbled underneath my bum as I pulled out of the garage and onto the streets of Miami. Anton rode the Icon Sheene. The bike was black with chrome accents. He wore black jeans, a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket. I rocked my own pair of Lucky Brand jeans that were well worn and soft in all the right places. Namely the ass. The junk in my trunk looked damn good in these jeans, and I knew it. My hair was braided and tucked into the leather jacket I wore over the top of a red, white, and black, White Stripes concert tank I’d gotten when Ginelle and I caught their show in Vegas back in the day. “Seven Nation Army” is still one of my favorites.
I sat on the KTM Super Duke, tricked out in orange and black. It hummed between my thighs caressing my sweet spot better than a lover could. There was just something absolutely beautiful and freeing about riding a bike.
Anton made hand gestures leading me through the city of Miami and South Beach. At red lights, he’d tell me brief tidbits about different sections.