Skyler notes my wince and frowns, stops her moves, and comes over to my side.
“You okay?”
I shake my head. “Baby, I’m not sure she’s got this in her.”
“With a little more work . . .”
“A little?” My response is unguarded but honest.
“Okay, with a lot more work, she could probably get close.”
I massage the knots in my neck. “I feel like we’re trying to put a round peg in a square hole. This scene is not Juliet.”
She purses her lips and glances at the flashing lights, the dance moves, the complete and utter train wreck that is JJ while she attempts to follow along, and eventually her shoulders sag. “It’s not. Though I believe in her talent. She’s got the singing chops. Maybe this pop star business is not the way to go.”
“Sky, she signed a contract. As did IG. We don’t want her stuck owing someone for the money they’ve already put out, and frankly, I don’t want to fail at another case.”
She places her arm on my bicep. “Honey, you did not fail in DC. If anything, you won.”
I cringe, remembering what we encountered. The animal torture, political darkness, and legal mayhem were only a few of the things we dealt with that still give me a vibe so ugly it’s like bugs are crawling all over my exposed skin. I scratch my forearms and then shake it off with a groan of disgust, realizing what I’m doing to myself. “Anyway, about Juliet, I think we need a new approach.”
“Brother, I heard that,” Bo agrees, sauntering up from behind us, his black motorcycle boots pounding heavily on the shiny stage floor. “This is an exercise in futility. Two days gone and not much to show for it but a tired teenager whose heart breaks every time she can’t get the moves. And this is just the first song. How the hell is she going to do an entire show’s worth?” He plucks at his goatee, each arm crossed over the other in his contemplative pose.
“She’s not,” I state honestly. “We’ve got to come up with another plan.”
Sky pouts, walks in a circle, puts a hand on her hip, and stares out at the empty seats of the practice theater we’re using.
“No, no, no!” the choreographer screams for what feels like the hundredth time. “Try it again. From the beginning without the two left feet.”
I grind my molars and narrow my gaze at the froufrou dude. He’s long and lean, bordering on emaciated in my opinion, Spanish, and flamboyant in his personality and flagrant about his sexual preference. When he’s not yelling at JJ, he’s hitting on Bo. The first I find aggravating, the latter, hysterical.
“What if she’s not the one dancing?” Skyler spins around and rocks from heel to toe a few times.
“How do you mean?” I ask.
“Well, she can’t dance. We’ve established that. Obviously, if she takes a lot of classes, over time she may get better. Over time being the key words. That will not happen when she needs to be ready to tour soon. However, just because other pop stars dance all over the stage doesn’t mean she has to. Perhaps she can walk around the dancers, singing. If she gets comfortable with them, she’ll play along when possible, but for the most part, they’ll become her posse in a way. Her friends. They’ll make her feel more grounded in her role. I think part of JJ’s problem is that she feels she’s going to be alone. When in reality there’s an entire crew that will be working behind her.”
Bo whistles loudly between two fingers, getting the attention of the choreographer. He holds his hands up. “Hey, Pink Flamingo . . .” He waves over the choreographer.
The choreographer stops and cuts the music, then saunters toward us.
“Take a twenty-minute break, ladies. Go get some water, a snack,” I call out to Violeta and JJ. Both of their faces take on an expression of relief at hearing of a break. Violeta loops her arm over her sister’s sagging shoulders and leads her off the other side of the stage.
“It’s Pete Flaco, cariño,” the choreographer says in a lower timbre, one I believe is meant to sound sexy but only sounds ridiculous coming out of his mouth. And the fact that he called Bo his lover has me chuckling out of turn.
Bo narrows his gaze, not knowing what Pete called him, and I am not about to tell him, because all my fun would be ruined. And right about now, I need a few laughs.
“Whatever, Pete.” Bo adds the inflection on the man’s given name. “Does this production have backup dancers?”
“Oh yes, a team of twenty or so that will be rotating through the production I’ve choreographed.”
I lay it out for the man. “You’re going to need to scrap some of it.”
“¿Disculpe?” His eyes widen in their sockets, reminding me of one of those rubber chickens with eyes that bulge when you squeeze the neck.
“It can’t have escaped your notice that JJ is not picking up your very unique and stunning choreography.” I sprinkle on the sugar as I prepare to flatten his entire cake. “However, this particular star is not a dancer. She’s just not, and no amount of yelling or berating is going to make that happen. What we need to do is have her moving around among the dancers instead of doing the dancing herself. Let’s focus on getting her singing. Once she’s singing, no one will care what the dance moves are, but she will accent your beautiful pieces instead of take away from them.”
Pete pinches his lips together. “This is not a bad idea. She is hopeless. The worst I’ve ever worked with. Even my ninety-year-old abuela has some moves, but this girl . . . no. Cero. Zip. Zilch.”
I inhale slowly, allowing my irritation to seep out before I nail this froufrou dude up by his toes and let him dangle over the stage for the night. Maybe then he’ll learn a little more tact and a lot less sass.
“Can you rework your moves? We’ll get JJ comfortable singing the songs with people dancing around her.”
He stares off at the stage for a full minute before he nods succinctly. “Sí, I can do it. I’ll get the dancers together, and we can try again tomorrow. Today is . . . uh, how do you Americans say? A bust?”
That makes me smile, so I give him that. “Yeah, it’s a bust. We’ll work on her makeover and meet back here tomorrow after breakfast.”
“Mañana. Sí. Bogart, cariño, would you like to escort me to dinner this evening?”
“Fuck no!” Bo blurts out, and Pete’s head jolts back, clearly offended. “Look, Pinky, I’m not gay. I don’t have a problem with people who are. What I do have a problem with is you bugging me about hooking up when I’ve already told you this. More than once today.”
Pete makes a clicking noise with his tongue. “So testy. I like that in a man. I will let you go. I need my beauty rest anyway. Adiós, cariño.” He flutters his fingers in a teasing wave.
When he’s turned around, I look at Bo, lift my hand, and flutter my fingers at him. “Adiós, beautiful Bo,” I taunt.
He shakes his head and sucks in air between his teeth. “Not cool.”
“Funny though.” I grin.
Bo rubs his hands down his face in a worn-out gesture. “Fuck, I need to get me a chicklet tonight. We hitting a bar, club, something? We’ve been hanging with children for the past three days. I’m due. Hell, I’m overdue for some Bo-style lovin’. You feel me?”
Skyler giggles and wraps her arms around my waist. “Eww, I hope you didn’t feel him, honey. I’d have to shower you before I touched you again.”
Bo’s mouth drops open, and he clutches at his heart with both hands. “That hurt, Sky.”
Her laughter continues as the girls make it back to us, each one holding a bottle of water and an apple.
“Girls, we’ve got a new plan. No. More. Dancing,” I announce.
“Really?” JJ asks. “For today?”
“No, sweet girl,” Sky adds, walking over to her. “We’re going to work something else into the routine that I think you’ll like a lot better. We can talk about it on the way.”
“Where are we going now?” Violeta asks, then sips her water.
“We’re entering my territory. Time f
or phase one of your makeover. Wardrobe.” Bo pushes up the sleeves on his leather jacket.
“Yes!” Violeta fist pumps the air.
JJ crosses her arms over her chest, looks down, and nudges a scuff on the stage floor with the toe of her sneaker.
Sky runs her hand through JJ’s ponytail. “Do you not like shopping?”
“I wouldn’t really know. I usually wear whatever oversize hand-me-downs Violeta or mi madre have that might fit me and the clothes we find at consignment shops.”
“Well, JJ, that’s all about to change. Come on. This is going to be fun.”
“Holy shit! Who is that fox standing in the mirror?” Bo howls like the man whore he is when JJ has on a pair of leather pants that show off her sumptuous ass and a high-collared, sleeveless white shirt that he’s told her to leave loose over the pants. The shirt hides the small stomach she’s insecure about, and the pants highlight one of her best features . . . her bangin’ ass.
“Mm-hmm, there is no denying that booty needs to be shown off.” Skyler jumps up on the platform and spins her own ass around and checks it out in the mirror. She sighs dramatically. “What I wouldn’t give for a booty like yours.” She pouts as JJ’s eyes go wide. Her glance goes from her bodacious bum to Sky’s little one and back.
“You’re perfect, Sky. You’re what everyone wants to be.” Her voice is low and strained.
Sky shakes her head. “You think that because you’ve been conditioned by the media, but girl, everyone has their own special thing that makes them unique. You’ve not only got the pipes of an angel, you’ve got a serious hourglass figure that men will absolutely drool over. I promise you that.” She runs her hands in toward JJ’s waist. “Look at how much your waist dips in compared to mine.” She proves what she’s saying by demonstrating her own small curves next to JJ’s voluptuous ones.
“And what about me!” Violeta steps up onto the platform that JJ is standing on next to Sky. Her body is a rail next to theirs. She lifts up her shirt so that it shows her abdomen. “I’m straight up and down. Which is awesome for modeling, but not awesome for scoring hot guys.” She puffs out her bottom lip.
She is not wrong. Her body is lithe and boyish compared to both Sky’s and Juliet’s.
“Vi, your face is the most beautiful in the world,” JJ compliments her sister, her tone and expression showing her seriousness.
“And this face will pay the bills.” Violeta puckers in the mirror. “While I’m doing that, your voice will pay yours. We all have to use our God-given gifts for what we’re meant to do. I’m going to use my face and shape while I can, learn all I can about the fashion industry, and take fashion design classes online in the process. Once I’ve soaked up what I can, then I hope to go into the clothing design part of fashion. My face is only going to get me by while I’m young. Maybe ten years. Tops. Then I’ll have to find something else. Your voice, it could last a lifetime. Don’t sell yourself short.” She looks JJ up and down and then covers her giggles with her hand.
The three of them fall into a fit of laughter while Bo gets more clothes for JJ to try on, and I watch my woman do her magic. The light in Juliet’s eyes has already gotten brighter. I can see her starting to view herself in a different way. She runs her hands over the outfit as if the clothing alone has changed her when, in reality, she’s just coming to her own personality, no longer stifled by what she believes is beauty.
“I think this look is fantastic and appropriate for a woman your age. Now let’s get you in some spiked heels and jewelry.” Bo hands her a pair of electric-blue suede stilettos.
Juliet takes them and looks at them as if they’ve grown scales, a fin, and teeth. “Um, I can’t walk in these. I can barely walk in my flats without tripping.”
Bo groans and looks up at the sky. “Practice, lamb. Get used to being on stilts, because with your petite stature, you’re going to have your dancers towering over you. We need to combat that visual on stage a little. When you’re sitting and doing interviews, flats are fine. Otherwise, I’m going to encourage a little height advantage.” He winks, and Juliet’s cheeks pinken.
She slips the shoes on and instantly goes up three inches, which makes her around five feet six—nowhere near Skyler and Violeta’s height, but at least she doesn’t look so awkward. Her back straightens, and she looks at herself in the mirror, a flash of pride washing over her face as she studies her appearance. That simple moment is very telling. I think she’s finally getting the idea that she really is beautiful and likes what she sees in her reflection.
“Here.” Bo hands her a chunky gold necklace and several gold bangles and beaded items. “I’m thinking shiny red nails and bold red lips with this.” He assesses her outfit.
Skyler nods. “Totally.”
Bo disappears and comes back with some rings, a lipstick, and a clip. He hands Skyler the lipstick. “Make that happen,” he says while working Juliet’s long dark hair. He leaves a swoop of layered bangs out and wraps the rest up in a twist before clipping it.
“The hair is on the wrong side,” Juliet murmurs. Her gaze is hyperfocused on the jagged scar surrounding her eye.
He shakes his head. “Nope. We’re accentuating it, remember? You, my dear, are going to show the world that perfection is in the eye of the beholder. You think Skyler is perfect, and because I know her well, I know that her beauty is not only skin deep but all the way through. However, she’s one of the most insecure women I’ve ever met and wacko as a nutjob about her dogs. You wouldn’t know that just by looking at her.”
Juliet’s gaze slashes to Skyler, probably seeking confirmation.
Skyler nods, then playfully smacks Bo’s bicep. “Hey, bro, don’t be sharing all my secrets!” She smiles. “It’s true though. I’m a little bit of a freak about our puppies, right, honey?”
I tug her off the platform and into my arms, laying a hard, quick kiss to her lips. “Yeah, but I love it.”
“Who’s taking care of the dogs in the States while you’re in Spain?” Violeta queries.
Bo straight up starts cackling. “You must not have heard me say she’s a nut! She brought the dogs to Spain. One of her bodyguards is walking them around outside while we’re inside.” He laughs but grabs JJ’s hand and pushes a couple of gold bands over it.
Violeta cracks up, and Juliet snickers as Skyler grins, leaves my arms, and opens the lipstick while heading to Juliet. She stops in front of her and pushes out her lips.
“Pucker like this,” she instructs.
Juliet does what she says and holds still while Skyler applies the crimson stain to her plump lips.
“There. Beautiful. And sexy.” She waggles her brows and gets out of the way so that Juliet can view her entire look.
“All right, what do you think of the full look, lamb? Is it a go?” Bo inquires.
Juliet looks at herself in the mirror, pets her hair, turns from side to side to gauge her body in the outfit. She looks much older and sexy as sin.
“I can’t believe this is me.” Her voice wavers with emotion.
“Sis, you have always been hot. You’ve just hid it under baggy clothes and a poor body image. Now look at you. You’re smokin’! ¡Muy caliente!” Violeta smacks her sister’s bodacious ass.
“I feel like I’m dreaming,” Juliet says as her eyes fill with tears.
Sky loops her arms around me, the lipstick in her hand pressed against my chest. It gives me an idea. I finagle the tube away from my girl, walk right over to the dressing mirror, and write on it:
Never Stop Dreaming
I pull out my phone and wave my hands for everyone to step back. I get behind Juliet and call out, “Pose.”
She shrugs. “How?”
Sky laughs, but Violeta goes right to work showing her sis what to do. “Like this. Right hand on your hip, the other at the side of your head. Put the right leg out, showing off the length of your legs in those pants and shoes.”
I get out of the way, make sure I have my phone camera poin
ted at the mirror. The words I’ve written and Juliet’s reflection are both framed to perfection.
“Okay, sis, hold that pose. Now, look directly into the mirror intently, and inhale through your mouth slowly.”
The second her lips part in a sexy gasp, I snap the picture.
I look down as Sky cuddles up next to me to check it out. My heart pounds out a heavy beat, and Skyler covers her mouth with her hand. I grin wildly down at the image and then back at Skyler. “Peaches . . .”
“Amazing,” she gasps.
“Right?” We both stare at the image for a couple of seconds more while we hear Violeta giving Juliet a 101 on posing.
“Bo, come here. Get a gander at this.” I wave my phone in front of me.
He swaggers over in the way only he can, with as much manliness as possible while holding a pair of women’s heels and a few items of clothing draped over his arm for Juliet to try on next.
I point to the image so he can see it.
“Fuck me running. Damn, we’re good.” He grins.
“Uh, sweetheart,” I say to Juliet, “you are going to have zero problems getting the world to fall in love with your brand of beauty. It’s effortless and smokin’ hot.” I grin wickedly.
Sky keeps her gaze plastered to the image. “He is not kidding. This needs to go up on your Instagram and that of the music label ASAP. Send that picture to all of us, honey.”
I do so, and Violeta pulls her phone out of her back pocket. “¡Vaya! JJ, you look amazing!” She squeals in that way only really young girls can get away with. “I’m making this my Instagram pic of the week! Heck, maybe the month!” She taps at her phone a bunch of times.
Juliet looks over her sister’s shoulder at the image, then at the mirror, and finally back to where Skyler, Bo, and I are standing off to the side.
Her expression is one of awe tinged with gratitude.
That sweet face and the meaning behind her gaze have me clearing my throat and wrapping an arm around my woman, wanting her close.
Then Juliet shocks the three of us when she glances at the mirror once more and then back.
International Guy: Volume 4 Page 7