by Angel Smits
“How do you know Lauren?” he typed.
“She’s my teacher.”
“Teacher?” After pulling back, he looked back and forth from Dylan to Lauren. “Ballet?”
Dylan nodded, and his face, which was much easier to read, glowed with defensiveness. Jason understood that. The kid had probably had to defend himself many times, to many people.
“Is he any good?” He pointed at Lauren after the words appeared on the screen. “Like you?”
She fought the smile, but not before he saw it. She nodded and signed something. Dylan grinned. “She says I’m better.”
Whether that was true or not, Jason couldn’t miss the fondness in her eyes and the pride she let shine on the boy.
Lauren signed as Dylan nodded. “She wants to know if you’re a patron of ballet. Have you seen her perform?”
“Once.” Jason’s gaze met hers and the wonder of that night returned. Time stretched out.
Needing a bit of distance from Lauren and the feeling she stirred, Jason paced around his desk and went to the windows to stare out at the hustle and bustle of the city far below. What the hell must it be like to live in foster care in LA?
He’d lost his father when he was young, but he’d had his mother, and older siblings who were definitely stand-in parents.
He couldn’t imagine being practically alone in the world as a kid. In the reflection in the window, he saw Lauren and Dylan signing back and forth. For a second he felt excluded, which made him wince. He wondered how many times they’d felt like that on a day-to-day basis.
“Okay.” He faced Lauren so she could read his words. Watching closely, he hoped he could tell if she understood. “I don’t do criminal law.” When she frowned, he lifted a hand. “I have colleagues here who do. Let me do some research.” He pulled out a card and grabbed a pen. He wrote on the back. Bring your foster parents with you. Come back and I’ll help. He added his signature so they’d know it was legit.
He handed the card to the boy, which brought a smile to his young face. He nodded and made a gesture cupping his hand from his jaw to his chest. “Thank you,” he said in accompaniment.
Then Jason faced Lauren. She was making the same gesture and smiling at Dylan. She signed quickly and Dylan answered, then faced Jason again. “She thinks my foster parents will be glad.”
Jason lifted his hand and, for one last question, he used his rough finger spelling. “Tina?” He made the question mark in the air as he’d seen Lauren do earlier.
The boy’s face fell. “She’s mad at me. But she came home. Should she come?”
Jason slowly nodded, a look of what he hoped was resoluteness on his face. Lauren signed. “We’ll try,” Dylan said.
That’s all he could ask. As they stood and turned to leave, Jason took a step and reached out to touch Lauren’s arm. She looked back with a questioning frown. Jason tapped her file on the desk and held it up. “We need to discuss your inheritance.”
She stared at the file. She put her hands together, then moved one forward in front of the other an inch or two.
“She says later,” Dylan explained.
Lauren’s hands moved quickly again, and Jason’s frustration returned.
“What?” Jason asked.
Dylan’s movements in sign were fluid, perfectly in sync with his words. “She says if you keep me out of jail, she’ll consider it.”
That was it? Even he could read the message in her body language—she wasn’t asking him. She was telling.
Reluctantly, Jason nodded and tried to imitate her gesture for later, then slowly created O-K. He must have been close, because she smiled and the boy laughed.
Jason walked with them to the elevator, feeling strange not speaking the normal, polite conversation his mother had beat into his thick skull, but they seemed comfortable.
The metal doors whooshed open to reveal a startled Susan, a cup of coffee in one hand and cardboard cup holder with three paper cups nestled tightly in the other. “Oh.” She stared at them.
“For us?” Dylan asked, his eyes bright.
“Hot chocolate for you, young man,” Susan said, not bothering to notice they couldn’t hear her. She pulled one cup out, skillfully not spilling anything, and handed it to the boy. She turned to Lauren with a frightened look on her face, as if she knew she’d screwed up earlier, but didn’t know how to not do it again. With a tentative smile, she offered the coffees.
Not to be outdone, Lauren peered at the cups and chose one, making that same scooping gesture Jason now knew meant “thank you.” She took a sip of the sweet drink, and Jason found his gaze glued to her slim throat as she swallowed.
Susan cleared her throat.
“Uh, yes. Thanks, Susan,” Jason said.
Lauren and Dylan stepped into the elevator and waved as the doors closed. Jason fought the urge to jump in behind them.
He didn’t say a word, simply grabbed the last coffee and headed back to his desk. He did not want to know what Susan was thinking.
“New client?” She sipped her own drink as she stood in the doorway.
“Uh, sort of. She’s not new. The boy is.”
“Uh, what kind of business does he own?”
Jason looked up at her, not appreciating the speculation sparking in the woman’s eyes. “It’s a different type of case.”
“Really?”
He wasn’t explaining himself, certainly not until he understood what the hell he’d gotten himself into. “Check out sign language classes for me, would you?”
She actually looked surprised. He glared at her, not liking what was most likely going through her head, though it was probably fairly accurate.
“And sign us both up.” Jason sat down at his desk and rearranged the computer setup, trying and failing to put his world back to the way it had been before Lauren Ramsey had walked in.
* * *
THE ELEVATOR’S MOVEMENT was smooth, and, before Lauren knew it, they were down on the main floor in the shiny marble and chrome lobby. Dozens of people passed, coming and going. The revolving door never stopped.
Outside, the day was warm, the sky clear. She sipped her coffee, walking with Dylan toward the bus stop.
There was something different about that man, Jason Hawkins. Lauren couldn’t quite put her finger on it, and the fact that she couldn’t peg it, bothered her.
Growing up as she had, in foster care, in rough neighborhoods early on, she’d had to learn to read people. Even once she’d gone to live with Maxine, she’d maintained and honed that skill.
The rich were no less predatory than the poor. They just looked prettier doing it.
But Jason Hawkins wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met before.
His office was high-end, chrome and glass, with polish written all over it. But back on the credenza, she’d spied a photo frame of over a half dozen people, all smiling, looking like family. His family.
Between the frame and his law school diploma had sat a belt buckle. One of those big, shiny Western ones.
She’d wondered if it was his, or someone else’s. And what was it for? It had caught her eye, and her curiosity.
She’d had the “joy” of meeting an endless stream of lawyers, judges and social workers in her childhood. Maybe as a kid she’d had a skewed view. But the few lawyers she’d come across as an adult hadn’t changed her harsh impressions.
Until today.
Jason had paid attention to both her and Dylan. The fact that he’d figured out how to communicate effectively with them both surprised and pleased her. Everyone else used an interpreter or dismissed her.
He’d made her feel like she was just like everyone else.
She stopped, and Dylan, who’d been following her, nearly ran into her.
“What’s up
?” he asked, trying to ask and balance his drink.
She shook her head, not really able to explain. She glanced back at the building they’d just left and frowned.
Dylan tapped her arm and pointed to the street. The bus was coming. They had to hurry the last block or wait another hour for the next one. Dylan broke into a run and while she didn’t join him, she did hasten her steps, as much to get away from her own confusing thoughts as to catch the bus.
* * *
AFTER LAUREN AND Dylan left, Jason stood at the windows behind his desk, staring at the street below. He shouldn’t be able to make out individuals from up here, but he saw Lauren clearly. Her copper-gold hair bounced in the sun as she hurried behind Dylan toward the bus stop.
Jason frowned. Why was she riding the bus? One of the world’s prima ballerinas who surely rode in limos and private jets on a regular basis, was catching the bus in downtown Los Angeles?
He watched until she disappeared inside the bus, and then continued to watch until the bus turned around the corner and vanished between the next street’s skyscrapers. Shaking his head, he turned back to his desk. He had work to do.
“I’m heading home, boss.” Susan spoke from the doorway and Jason looked up to see her standing there, her purse over her shoulder, jacket over her arm and a scowl on her face. He really wished she’d smile more.
“See you tomorrow.” He lifted a hand and pretended he was focusing on the screen.
“You can’t fool me,” she said. “You’re signed up for the sign language classes, by the way. They start on Thursday. 7:00 p.m. At the Y.” She spun around, and he listened as the even tone of her heels echoed through the empty office.
“You’ll be there, too, right?” he called after her.
“Yes,” was her begrudging reply. “I had both registrations put on your credit card.”
He heard the elevator’s ding and the whoosh of the doors. Maybe when she stepped off the elevator she’d be in a better mood, maybe when she got home, she wouldn’t be so grumpy.
The ringing of the phone a few minutes later startled him out of his thoughts. “Hello.”
“Hey, little brother.” Wyatt’s voice boomed through the line, as if he were in the next room instead of Texas.
“Hey, yourself. Is everything okay?”
“Why does something have to be wrong for me to call you?”
“Because that’s the only time you call.” Despite the ribbing, he knew Wyatt would be grinning on the other end of the line.
“Yeah, well. I’ve been thinking.”
“That’s dangerous.”
“Funny. I was thinking about your offer. Emily and I’ve been talking. We think we’ll take you up on it.”
“Offer?” He racked his brain. What offer? Oh, yeah. “To come visit?”
“Don’t sound so shocked.” Wyatt’s laughter sounded good, comforting. “And don’t worry, we aren’t going to crash at your place. This is technically our honeymoon, you know.”
Jason wasn’t touching that one. “Yeah? So when are you planning on coming?”
“In a couple of weeks. Emily’s got to clear her docket, and we’re moving the last herd upstream. After that, we should be able to manage.”
“How long you planning to stay?”
“Remember what Mom used to say?”
“No.” Wyatt, being the eldest child, had had more time with Mom, more chances to learn about her.
“When they start asking how long you’re staying, it’s time to leave.” Wyatt’s laugh came again. “Four, five days at most.”
Jason found himself nodding, looking forward to time with his brother and new sister-in-law—to picking Emily’s brain about family law and the situation with Pal’s will and Lauren.
None of his family had come out to LA to see him. Not in the two years he’d been here.
Partially because Jason had made plenty of trips home. When DJ was hurt, then again when he was planning to take off to find Tammie. More recently when his sister Mandy had baby Lucas, and again for DJ and Tammie’s wedding. He hadn’t really been away from them long enough to miss them—and vice versa.
So, why did LA feel so empty and lonely sometimes?
“Sounds great.” Jason smiled at his own reflection in the window. “Let me know when you finalize your plans.”
“Will do.”
The office seemed too silent after he hung up. As always, Jason had tons of work to do, but none of it appealed to him right now. Except for the research he still had to do. Opening the browser, he punched in names and pulled up facts and faces. Lauren’s publicity photo stared at him from an old news story about a dance studio opening.
Studio? He followed the link and leaned back in his chair as he scrolled through the beautiful, professional photos of her dance studio. The obviously posed photos of dancers sold the value of the place, touted her skill as a dancer and teacher. One face was predominant among the models. A tall, young man.
Dylan.
Jason smiled. Looked like he had a field trip ahead of him. He reminded himself this was research. Research for the case.
Just research.
CHAPTER FIVE
MAXINE DIDN’T OFTEN come to Lauren’s studio. Lauren’s pride and joy was in a part of town her foster mother disapproved of. But Maxine knew why Lauren had built it here, in this once beautiful, iconic theatre that now sat on the fringes of one of the poorest neighborhoods in Los Angeles.
“It’s the only way to reach them,” she’d told Maxine. “Them” being kids like Dylan and Tina—kids on the streets with talent that might otherwise go undiscovered and lost.
Much like Lauren would have been had Maxine not taken her in.
After hitting the play button on the state-of-the-art sound system, Lauren returned to her position in front of center stage. Maxine stood right beside her as Lauren lifted her arms to signal the beginning. Dylan appeared in center stage, a bright light washing over him.
The last two weeks of relentless practice had been worth it. Dylan did every single move Lauren asked of him, perfectly. She couldn’t have been more proud. But the frown on Maxine’s face made her breath catch. Lauren always struggled to read her when they were in the studio.
At home, in public, even backstage before a performance, Maxine was an open book. But here, like this—nothing.
Lauren finally couldn’t stand it, her fingers flying to ask the question. “What do you think?”
Maxine paced, her eyes intense, her posture perfect. “Good,” she spoke, absently signing at the same time. “Very good.” She turned to Lauren so she didn’t have to sign and Lauren could read her lips. “Maybe too good.”
“No.” Lauren knew a dodge when she saw one. This whole audition, her hopes of getting Maxine to take on Dylan, was as much about Maxine as it was the boy.
Maxine was retired from the stage, and more recently from teaching. She spent her days alone, with only her butler as company. The garden had never looked better—Maxine’s other passion besides ballet.
At seventy-two Maxine was slowing down, and Lauren was worried.
Lauren wasn’t ready to lose even one drop of time with the only person who’d cared about her after her mother’s death. Maxine needed to stay active and involved.
Dylan was part of that plan. The fact that he could benefit from Maxine’s guidance was just as important. Done with the routine, he grabbed a towel from his gym bag and joined them, the towel hooked around his shoulders.
“How’d I do?” he asked Lauren.
She pointed to Maxine. “Ask her.”
He turned hopeful eyes to the older woman, and Lauren cringed when she saw his expression fall.
“You really want to dance ballet?” The older woman signed as she pinned Dylan with that laser-
beam stare. That gave Lauren hope. Maxine was interested.
“Yes, ma’am, I do.” His earnest desire covered his features.
Maxine walked slowly around him, looking him up and down. Assessing. “You know how hard it is?” The drama of her sign only added to the question. Her well-manicured fingers pointed at him, pointed right in his face.
Dylan nodded.
“You realize the ribbings you’ll take? Boys your age don’t do ballet—they—” She paused a moment to get her elderly fingers to spell the word. “R-A-P.”
“That’s a stereotype. Ma’am.” Dylan jutted his chin up defiantly and Lauren held her breath. She kept her thoughts to herself. If Dylan and Maxine were going to work together, they had to iron out the particulars on their own. The shadow of a smile in Maxine’s eyes was a good sign.
“You like girls or boys?” she asked, pushing another taboo button. Lauren wanted to crawl under the wood floor.
Dylan didn’t flinch. “As friends, both.” His fingers were harsh as they hit together in the signs. “Not gay, if that’s your question. But so what if I was? It’s not your business.” His finger point to her was nearly as accusing as hers had been.
Maxine laughed, her smile broad. “Oh, yes. He’ll do.” She looked at Lauren. She returned to sign. “Well done, my dear.” She nodded at them both as she turned toward the chair in the corner.
Once she’d settled, she looked at Dylan again. “Get some rest.” The sign of her laying her head on her hands looked almost too soft with her intense stare. “We—” Her jewelry sparkled as her hand moved back and forth between them. “We are going to work hard. Starting tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Dylan looked surprised, but he held back the excitement.
Maxine nodded. “Be here.” She pointed at the floor. “Four.” She signed the number. “Right after school.”