Page 9 of Guarded Hearts
“That’s what you want?” Mia frowned. “Another job?”
“I have that—”
“Debt, right.” Mia closed her eyes. “I tell you what. You do a good job with Pasha, make him feel comfortable with this routine, make him happy to be doing this for me, and I’ll pay off whatever is left of your debt at the end of the tour. It can’t be that much.”
It can’t be that much.God, to have so much money that thousands of dollars were a drop in an oversized bucket. “That’s really generous. I…” Could I agree to that? The job was a safe bet, a good place to put my faith, tied to nothing but merit. What Mia was proposing was so much easier, except my payout would be mixed with Pasha’s comfort and happiness. Too risky.
“It won’t be a hardship to teach him. He’s a decent guy, I swear.” Mia crossed her heart.
“I think,” I started, never one to wager something I couldn’t win when I was completely sober, “I’d rather you put in a good word with Sarah Telling.” I didn’t know Pasha well enough to tie so much value to spending time with him.
Great sex did not equal a good relationship, work-related or otherwise. I’d learned that lesson more than once.
Mia’s shoulders sank, and she sighed. “Okay, fine. But you’ll choreograph the routine? Spend at least half an hour a day helping me and Pasha with it for the next few weeks?”
“Yes. You and Pasha, together. I can do that.” My mind had already wandered to steps and sequences, lifts and turns. “Do you have a song in mind? It’s easier for me to start with the song.” I pursed my lips. “East Coast or West Coast?”
“Which one is better?”
“East Coast is faster and bigger in terms of space. West Coast is a bit slower, more compact. Pros and cons to both.”
Mia removed a list from the back pocket of her jeans. “I have a list of songs I like. I’d ask Pasha, but it’ll mean nothing to him.” She chuckled. “And he’d probably tune me out. But any of the ones on here are good with me. I’ve been thinking about this for a while, so the list is ridiculously long, and I can’t pick. Impossible to pick.”
“You want me to do it all?” I raised my eyebrows and scanned the list. Mia wasn’t lying; it was long.
“Sure, yeah. I mean, I have about five thousand other things to think about, and it would be a weight off me. I’m getting what I want. Swing dancing. One of those songs. East or West doesn’t matter. Someone else worrying about the details.” Mia grinned. “I’ll give you credit in the live stream too. Don’t worry.”
“Live stream?” My heart kicked. “You’re having Pasha do this in front of a bazillion people? Live?”
“Do you really think that many people will watch?” She twisted her lips in thought. “I hoped maybe a million across the globe at one point or another. Live streams never keep the same audience throughout.”
“A million?” My eyes were probably bugging out of my head. The number wasn’t unreasonable, and I could understand why Mia would enjoy an audience for her big day. Everything in her life was recorded, broadcast, writ large. Tyler appeared to take her desire for the spotlight with a pinch of humor. What did Pasha think about this plan? To be on the fringes and then thrust into the glare?
“So,” Mia said, her hand on the button to exit the bus. “We’ve got a deal, right? I’ll have Taryn or Rebecca send you a meeting request for this coming week so we can get started.”
“This week?”
“Three months. That’s all we got. Pasha’s probably going to need it.”
“Right,” I said, staring at the list of songs, not reading any of them. My free time had just morphed into a swirling pattern of rock steps and counting patterns, but at least I’d have another job after this one.
I hadn’t put my swing dance training to work in a few years. Did I remember enough? Was saying “yes” a bad idea? It was one thing for Mia to perform in front of guests, but with a live stream, there was no telling who might tune in. An incredible opportunity if Mia gave me credit and if no one screwed up.
This dance could also end up a disaster for my bank account, for my working relationship with Mia if anything went wrong. I’d never be able to call her again and plead my case, ask for help, and if it was a failure, anyone who saw it wouldn’t want to hire me either.
“Three months,” I said with a nod. “I won’t let you down.”
~ * ~
A sweat broke out across my brow, and I wiped away the dampness before it could slither down my face. I’d had to call in a few favors, but I’d managed to talk one of my former swing dance partners into makingthe drive to North Carolina to help me collect my thoughts and create this dance.
Tomorrow, Mia expected some sort of result, and I was sweating in more than one way.
“Do you think that’ll work?” I asked Jace, using a towel to wipe down my overheated body. Mia had given me a room behind the stage for us to work in private. I’d choreographed all of the steps in advance, and then Jace and I had gone through the routine at half the speed a dozen times or more before we’d taken it up to speed.
“It works,” Jace agreed. “But I thought you said the guy Mia wanted for the routine was a novice. Some of those moves aren’t novice.”
I released my breath in a whoosh. “I know, but it’ll be boring without them.”
