"You still take the same payments as usual? Same rates?"
He pauses for a moment, contemplating the possibility of earning more money from me. "Yeah, same rates. Why? What kind of work do you need now?"
"I need to know what the hell my assistant is hiding."
"You know the details I'll need, and where to send them. I should have what you need in three days, providing you get me her info in the next, oh, hour or so?"
He's not kidding, either. Jake works fast, and he's got a high success rate. There's not a thing he can't find out, through legal channels or otherwise, and I appreciate his work.
I type up the details I know about my little assistant—her name, date of birth, the headshot the company used for her ID, and her address that's on file with us, and send them over via encrypted email to his burner account. "Done."
"So," he says, typing furiously on the other side of the call, no doubt already getting to work. "What's with this girl, huh? She mean something to you?"
"She's my assistant."Nothing more.
"Bullshit," Choi says with a little huff. "You've never once cared this damn much about an employee before. There's something more here."
"You're full of shit." Deny, deny, deny. Because if he thinks there's something more there, he might charge me double for shits and giggles.
Not because I'm actually feelingthingsfor her, or anything like that.
"I'll be in touch. Send the payment tonight, and the rest when you get the intel you're looking for."
He hangs up, and now I'm alone again.
Not for long, though, because Donato never leaves me alone for long. He could take an hour break for himself and I wouldn't notice, because all he does now is watch me run through the routine and torment myself over a misstep here, a second of tardiness there. But he's dedicated, and he doesn't want me to out-work him, so we go back at it like dance is going out of style and we're trying to single-handedly save it.
Before I know it, we've danced right past lunch, and dinner, too, and Donato is waving his hands at me to stop as the music cuts off.
"Enough, enough, Kaito. You've got the dance down. I don't understand why you think you need me still."
The little Spanish man takes a seat against the wall and pants through his exhaustion, staring up at me like I'm supposed to commiserate. But I can't.
He's wrong.
"I'm a second too late on my half-spin going into the chorus," I point out, hands on my hips as I think over all the errors I know I'm making. "My arm could use some work when I extend it for the end stanza. The opening catches me off-guard every time. I need to work on a better way to get my cues for the starting notes."
"All things that are minor and do not concern me, Kai." I help him to his feet and he dusts off his pants, buying himself time as I watch him make his decision. He's done with me. Nothing I can say to him will change that. "Listen. I know you're worried, and that's normal. But if a handful of my clients had your natural talent and skill and work ethic, I would be making far less money overall. Just—just relax, and let it come to you. You don't have to be perfect?—"
"But Ido,"I growl, slamming my fist into the wall to my left. I'm not violent, and I don't even make a dent, but he flinches nonetheless. "This company has put their trust in me, and I'm making damn good money to make sure my launch is a success. Until their star singer comes back, I'm all they've got. And I have to make sure that when my time is up, if I want to stay, I have that option. So yes, I need it to beperfect,Donato." My foot nudges the boom box on the floor, and I stare at him pointedly as I wait for him to pick up the hint. "Again. From the top."
A knock at the door saves me from repeating myself when Donato suddenly grows a backbone.
It's Denali, and though she still looks rough, she's wearing a hesitant smile, and holding a bag of what I'll bet any amount of money is food. She insists on feeding me every day, even when I tell her I'm fine, that I don't need her to baby me.
I don't mind it as much as I pretend I do. It's not unhealthy food, and though I've put on a few pounds, it's nothing I can't cut down with a few days of extreme dieting, or tone up with a new gym membership.
"You guys ready for a break? I brought some food."
"Actually," Donato says with a huff, "I'm ready to go home. Maybeyoucan convince your boss to leave at a decent hour today."
As if. Nobody can convince me to leave if I don't want to. "I'm not leaving until I've nailed the entry and figured out why my arm won't do what yours does when I come out of the half spin."
Donato looks at me like he wants to cut that offending arm off. "It's because you're pushing too hard. You have to get out of your own way. And expecting perfection is a recipe for disaster."
"I will not change who I am simply because you want to go home early and stick your thumb in your ass." I turn back to the mirrors and kick the boom box until the music comes on, andlock in. "You can leave my food by the wall, Denali. I'm not ready to eat?—"
"Go home, Donato," she says to my choreographer, patting his shoulder. "I'll deal with him."
