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Wrong.
The Patrick Swayze look-a-like tiptoed around me in his studio as if I’d had hidden bars of gold down my sports bra and leggings. It would’ve been nice if I didn’t feel objectified. I could’ve stayed back home if I wanted to feel like that.
Or in my stepdad’s mansion.
My life was on a roll...
“And what did you say you teach?”
I sighed. Good God, it was tough to smooth out my annoyance. I’d told him three times already. Was it really that hard to pay some attention?
“I can do any style that evokes passion, sensuality, intimacy.” The corner of my mouth quirked into a smile, feeling the urge to push him out the door and spend my entire day in this studio. I loved dancing. I missed it. And I wanted to pick up where I left off as soon as possible. “Anything that makes your body feel like it’s reviving. When you grab your partner and the music starts, its…fire, you know? Sparks and energy.”
He agreed, nodding his head as I continued, “My main interest is salsa and the rumba. It’s probably because of my roots,” I explained, trying to lead the conversation towards a more professional setting.
“Oh,” he cooed, “a true Latina, hmm? You know, I could use hips like those.”
I deflated. Pelena Studios was one of the most exclusive dance studios in this area, but no, I wouldn’t find my footing here. Absolutely not. Jean-Paul Aubert—or JP, as he used during his overly familiar introduction—and I didn’t click. He was flirtatious and just didn’t get me. I needed that compatibility with another teacher if I accepted the job offer.
He grabbed my application and turned the page before straightening his glasses. “Let’s see. Hm...”
I frowned. That wasn’t a good ‘hm’. Rather a condescending one.
“Your application says you worked at Ruefall’s?”
Ah, there it was. It was one of the most prestigious studios in the country. Jean-Paul seemed not to want to compete with that. Though it wasn’t hard after the scandal
“Yes, I did.” And I would burn the building down if I could.
He pretended to look at the papers instead of examining me, but I saw his mood souring with every other blink.
“I heard a lot about it.” He clicked his tongue and walked to the music installation in the corner. He threw the papers down. “There were some major changes made these past few months.”
Four months ago, to be exact. The “incident”, as they called it, was smeared over social media and the papers. Thankfully, not one had mentioned my name.
His lips twitched, aching to ask me if I could deliver some insight.
I exaggerated checking my wrist. I didn’t wear a watch, and I couldn’t care less if he noticed. I wasn’t going to work here in this lifetime or the next. “Oh, wow, look at that! Thank you for your time, Mr. Aubert, but I have to go.”
He didn’t call me out on my pretense, and even so, I still would’ve sprinted down the stairs towards the parking lot like I was running from a police dog that had sniffed drugs on me. I slammed my car door shut, and let my head fall back and screamed.
I couldn’t take this any longer. My legs were restless. I needed to blow off some steam, preferably to some trumpets, a piano… a sexy saxophone.
When the opportunity rose, I was going to spin around in the boys’ living room.
I couldn’t go without dancing, that was how I vented. But I hadn’t since last month, which had been a disaster for my nerves.
I was going insane.
Cary had been so sweet to offer me a job. I took it, thinking it would be fine to clean the house two days a week, keeping myself busy. He said I didn’t need to look for a job, that the salary he’d provide me with would be generous.
I’d declined, but Cary was one persuasive, richer-than-Prince kind of rockstar. I’d instantly felt a lot less guilty.
I didn’t need to rush myself, looking for a job with an appropriate boss. At least that was settled.
Sagging against the leather of the car seat, I looked up and straight at JP, who was staring at me through the window.
Oh my God, what a creep!
