Читать книгу The Ballerina's Stand - Angel Smits - Страница 13
ОглавлениеMAXINE 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.”
Dylan glanced at Lauren, his brow furrowed in question. “Attorney?”
“At two.” She held up her fingers to match. “You’ll be done in time.”
“Four.” Dylan made the same gesture as Maxine had and smiled.
The older woman nodded, then waved him away. “Go. Change. Rest.”
Now it was Lauren’s turn to face the inquisition. She waved at Dylan just before he disappeared through the door.
Maxine barely let her sit down. “What attorney?”
There was no sense lying. Lauren had to tell her, and now. If she found out later, there would be hell to pay, and Dylan would be the one paying. “He has a sister—”
“Is she deaf?”
Lauren watched Maxine make the familiar sign, and for an instant, it flashed through her mind that it was an odd one. Deaf, and yet she pointed at her ear and then her mouth. “No.” Lauren shook her head. “She hears.” Her own gesture, a spiral from the lips seemed just as odd. Backward almost.
“She dance?”
Lauren shook her head. Tina had refused all offers of classes, though Dylan had said she’d been keen on it until she was about six, which would have been about the time their father had gone to prison.
“Attorney?” Maxine prompted.
She explained the situation to Maxine, and the older woman rolled her eyes. “Youth.” She shook her head as her hand bounced in the air at the height of a child’s head. “I don’t tolerate troublemakers.”
Lauren remembered learning that lesson the hard way. The one and only time she’d rebelled against Maxine’s authority had been her junior year in high school. And as punishment, Maxine had taken the lead in The Nutcracker away from her.
Maxine taught her that you don’t just work to earn something—you continue working to keep it. They both lived by that rule.
After a short pause, Maxine leaned forward and met Lauren’s gaze. “The police didn’t know he was deaf, did they?” Maxine knew all of Lauren’s fears.
Lauren slowly shook her head. The fear of being misunderstood and mistaken for insane, or drunk or high had haunted Lauren since childhood. She shuddered.
“Who is the attorney? Did you call Wakefield?” Maxine’s attorney was as much friend as lawyer, but he was retired now. To be honest, there’d only been one attorney who had come to mind when she’d needed one.
Jason Hawkins. She forced herself not to smile. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks.
“Ah.” Maxine’s eyebrow rose and she laid a hand on Lauren’s arm. “Someone else.” Keen interest shone on Maxine’s face.
Another eyebrow lifted. Lauren was surprised Maxine didn’t ask any more questions. Maxine surprised her even more by pulling her hand back and preparing to leave.
They were at the front door before Maxine said anything else. Hudson was at the curb, standing in the awful LA heat in that ugly black uniform. He’d already opened the back door of the Cadillac.
Maxine stopped and met Lauren’s gaze. She didn’t sign. “You know I love you as if you were my own.”
Lauren nodded.
“If you ever, ever need anything, you know you can always come to me.”
Lauren’s eyes misted. “I know.” She pointed at her heart, then her forehead, slowly, making the first part longer than the second, to emphasize the strong love that beat in her chest for this woman.
Did Maxine actually think she wouldn’t turn to her if she needed her? Her last, and best, foster mother had been there so many times, Lauren had lost count.
Maybe she should have called Wakefield... No. She’d have only been doing it to please Maxine, which would have given her the opportunity to interfere.
Jason was the best choice. She didn’t stop to analyze why she’d come to that conclusion.
On impulse, Lauren hugged Maxine hoping that somehow that told the woman how much she meant to her.
* * *
THE CLASSROOM IN the basement of The Y had to be fifty years old. Long tables were set up classroom style. Susan was already there, still wearing her business suit and pumps. He’d have to tell her that while this was technically on the clock, she could dress down.
Several other people were also present. An older man, two teens and a young woman who stared at her phone. A middle-aged woman was at the front of the class, pulling books and papers out of a satchel.
Old habits died hard, and Jason snagged a chair in the back. He’d just settled when the teacher turned around and counted heads. Then she turned to the old-fashioned chalk board and wrote Anne Sidel on it. She pulled out a notebook and faced them.
“That’s me,” she said, a slight accent to her words. He frowned, finally noticing the hearing aids nestled in her ears. “I’m your teacher for this class. Let’s take care of a little business before we get started.”
From the list in her hand, she read names, waiting for a raised hand instead of the spoken responses. He felt like he was back in fourth grade but abided by her rules. He lifted his hand and spoke. She nodded and check marked on the page.
“Okay, let’s discuss how I’ll conduct this class.” She walked around and sat against the front of her desk. “Tonight is free. We talk. I’ll answer your questions and we’ll go over a few things. After tonight, the class is silent. No speaking.”
She waited for that bit of information to sink in, looking around and meeting every eye with a solid stare. Everyone nodded to her unspoken query. “Questions?”
The girl with the phone tentatively lifted her hand. “No talking. At all?”
“Nope. None.”
“But what if we don’t understand?”
“Finger spell. You’ll have this week to practice.”
“But what if I have to leave unexpectedly?”
“Again, we’ll sign to each other.”
“What if there’s an emergency? Like there’s a fire or something?”
The teacher struggled not to laugh, and Jason realized he liked her.
“You can tell us that. But let me ask you—does the deaf person you’re learning to sign for have that luxury?” The girl stared. “This is the sign for fire.” Anne raised her hands, waving her fingers.
The girl mimicked her. “Oh!” She grinned. “I’m signing.”
Anne turned away briefly, hiding her smile. “I have information and a book for each of you. By next week, practice the alphabet. Here.” She passed the packets to each of them. Jason smiled. He already knew the alphabet. Well, part of it anyway. He just wasn’t very good at it. Yet.
They talked, asking questions, and Anne showed them each the formation of the letters. He could do this.
After class Susan caught up with him. The speculative glint in her eyes was not good. “So, now are you going to explain to me who that woman in the office was?”
He wasn’t escaping. “The Haymaker case? You filed it. That’s the daughter.”
“That’s the daughter?” She stared. “Why didn’t you give her the paperwork?”
He signed. “She doesn’t want it.” He headed toward the parking lot.
“She doesn’t have a choice, does she?”
That’s what Jason needed to figure out.
* * *
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Lauren and Dylan were ushered into a conference room at Jason’s office by the young woman who’d sat at the front desk. Dylan was obviously excited about his training later that day with Maxine, but Lauren could see the fatigue around his eyes. Had he slept at all last night? Was it anticipation, or chasing after Tina, again?
She almost asked him as they were led into the chrome-and-glass conference room, but held back when she saw a woman was already there. The middle-aged woman smiled at them as she introduced herself in sign. Anne Sidel. She was an interpreter and would help with the meeting.
Part of Lauren was disappointed that yet another person would be there to hear Dylan’s story. But she also felt relieved that Jason considered it important enough to get it right. Even though Dylan could speak, his interpreting for her, and trying to get the details right, could be too much. And this was too important.
Jason came in just then, a smile for them both as he held the door for someone behind him. His secretary, Susan, who’d brought the coffee on their first visit, led Will and Rhonda Hancock inside. They were Dylan’s foster parents. Blue-collar and middle class, they were a harried couple. Lauren liked them, but hadn’t quite figured out where Tina and Dylan fit in their busy lives. Both adults worked full-time jobs, often more than forty hours a week.
Where did their own three kids even fit in?
Tina shuffled along behind them. Lauren frowned. The young girl with her tight ponytails and demure white sweater was not the budding young woman Dylan had described in his story. In fact, Lauren had never seen her look like this before.
Lauren looked over at Jason with a puzzled frown. What were they trying to pull? Why the masquerade?
Before she could say anything, another woman came in. Lauren stared. She was everything Lauren was not. Tall, curvy and a brunette.
She wore a fashionable, close-cut business suit that conveyed a whole lot more than business. With her long legs and a cap of thick sable hair, she was a commanding presence.
Jason greeted her warmly, holding her arm after they’d greeted each other with a business handshake. He guided her around to face them.
Chloe Devries introduced herself, speaking clearly, but not slowly or demeaningly. Anne provided the sign introduction.
Lauren had to look away to see the interpreter’s hands, but Chloe’s image was burned in her mind. Lauren was often around beautiful women in the ballet, but this one wasn’t just beautiful—she was smart, too. Lauren fought the sense of inadequacy trying to settle over her.
Chloe was a partner in the firm. Her name was actually stenciled in gold on the massive glass doors. Lauren remembered seeing it the first time they’d come here. She was going to help Jason with this case?
Chloe stepped toward Lauren, causing Lauren to have to tilt her head back. She didn’t often feel small. Petite yes, but this was different. The woman exuded intimidation.
“I’ve seen you perform. Magnificent. It’s such a joy to meet you.” Chloe smiled warmly as she shook Lauren’s hand and Lauren relaxed a little.
“Thank you,” she signed, hoping to diminish her celebrity status. This was about Dylan.
“Your work with underprivileged kids is almost as lovely.”
Lauren blushed, not wanting that part of her life to be so public. That wasn’t why she did it. It didn’t help that Jason tilted his head in question, curious now.
Anne interpreted, but Lauren chose to focus on Chloe’s face. She caught most of her words, and while she could tell the woman wasn’t being fully open, something she doubted Chloe ever was, she was glad to have Chloe on their side.
Lauren took her seat and everyone settled around the massive glass table. Chloe took control at one end. Lauren and Dylan sat across from the interpreter, and the Hancocks sat at the other end, Tina close at Rhonda’s elbow.
Jason settled next to Lauren. Though she’d caught a strong whiff of floral perfume when Chloe had walked in, Lauren was surprised when the subtle cologne Jason wore cut through it. Strong. Sharp.
Forcing herself to mentally step back, she focused instead on the rest of the room.
Both Jason and Chloe had legal pads in front of them. Lauren wished she’d thought to bring paper to make notes. It always helped her focus and remember questions she wanted to ask later. It also gave her the ability to communicate independently, if need be.
The question about Tina’s appearance came to mind and she signed to ask to borrow some paper and a pen. Jason quickly complied, tearing off a couple of sheets and sliding them and a pen across the table to her.
She reached for it, her hand brushing his. She froze as the sensation of his skin touching hers seeped over her nerves. Warm. Solid. Her gaze couldn’t move away any more than her hand could. His hands were big, and for an attorney, oddly scarred. Not damaged—just showing evidence of use beyond shuffling paperwork.
Looking up, she met his gaze, and for a long minute held it. His eyes were green, with flecks of brown scattered in the iris. A pretty combination, though she doubted he’d appreciate the compliment.
“Let’s get started.” The interpreter sat forward as Chloe’s lips moved.
Dylan was just as focused as Lauren on the interpreter. Lauren answered in sign, with Anne speaking her responses as Chloe asked for introductions. Anne explained how Lauren was Dylan’s ballet teacher, a good friend, and that he’d contacted her when he’d first gotten into trouble, knowing she’d understand the challenge of his deafness in the legal system.
Dylan spoke for himself, signing at the same time and confirming his wish to have Lauren present.
Body language was a part of sign language. Frowns for negative or intense words. Smiles for happy inviting words. Head tilts also had meaning. But with an interpreter, it was an artificial emotion.
Lauren found it too easy to lose the meaning of the speaker without the correct body language. She tried to glance at the others as they spoke, to read them, but then she missed words. Her frustration grew.
Dylan told his story, which thankfully she already knew. When he talked, he faced Lauren and signed to her so she could see his face and body as he spoke. The others could hear him.
When it was her turn, Tina made no attempt to sign at all, though she was fluent in ASL, having grown up with Dylan. Lauren could tell it disappointed Dylan, and she lifted a hand to ask her why she didn’t.
“I’m not deaf.” Tina lifted her chin.
Ah, there’s the girl we all know and love.
“I don’t have to,” she spat out the words.
“It makes it easier for Dylan,” Lauren signed and saw Anne’s lips move to repeat.
Tina shrugged and continued to talk without sign. Luckily, Lauren knew Tina, so reading her lips was easier. Dylan’s disappointment took up space in the room, and he chose to watch the interpreter instead of reading his sister’s lips.
Lauren put a hand on Dylan’s arm beneath the table. He nodded, nearly imperceptibly, thanking her before moving his arm away.
* * *
TINA WAS A BRAT. Jason watched the inhabitants of the room as she talked. He saw Lauren’s indecision as her gaze flitted from the interpreter, then to the girl and finally to Dylan. The foster parents kept sharing glances of approval, then a flash of fear at Tina’s defiance.
“I don’t know why Dylan came and got me that night.” Tina met Chloe’s gaze with a glare. “You’ll have to ask him.”
Chloe didn’t miss a beat. “I’ve already heard his story. Let’s try this again.” She pulled out a copy of the police report.
Jason watched her closely. This female shark in the beautiful suit homed in on the girl’s attitude. He admired Chloe’s skill, but she scared the crap out of him.
“Tell me where you were when Dylan showed up.”
“At the park.”
“Who were you with?”
“My friends.”
“Which friends?”
This was like pulling teeth. Jason wanted to push Tina on her behavior, but he held his tongue, waiting for Chloe’s next move. This was her case now, and she knew how to handle it.
“Just friends.”
“Can you give us their names?”
The girl just glared.
“Okay. No problem.” Chloe wrote on the notepad in front of her for a long minute. “We’ll just have the court locate them.” She met Tina’s stare. “I’d probably be prepared if I were you.”
“What for?”
“The backlash when your friends are picked up in a squad car at their homes. Their names are in this report. I’m simply confirming them. I’m not sure they’ll be thrilled at having you for a friend after this.”
Scare tactics worked great on kids. Jason remembered his mother being quite adept at wielding that particular tool. He almost laughed as Tina started naming names and Chloe checked them off the list. But she only gave the girls’ names.
“And the boys?” Chloe sat with pen poised over the list.
“Boys?” Rhonda Hancock gasped.
Tina swallowed. She reluctantly gave the boys’ names, too. They’d get a statement from each one of them. Hopefully they would confirm Dylan’s version of the truth.
Now that the battle was nearly over, Jason turned his attention to Lauren. She was tense, her shoulders tight.
He’d scooted over next to her after handing her the paper. This way he was directly across from Anne, hoping to learn more about reading sign, as well as see things from Lauren’s view.
It was nuts trying to focus on the woman’s hands and the person talking. At least he could hear the words. What the hell did Lauren do?
He tried and finally gave up. He’d need to learn a lot more sign. He’d missed half the conversation.
An hour later, they wound things up. Anne breathed a sigh as she flexed her fingers in an absent-minded exercise.
“Thank you,” he said to her and smiled.
“You’re welcome.” She continued to sign, though he couldn’t tell if it was to be polite to Dylan and Lauren, or habit. She and Lauren headed to the door, their hands engaged in what he assumed was the small talk that Jason normally exchanged as he escorted clients out. It was strange to watch, and not participate.
The room quickly cleared. The Hancocks ushered both Dylan and Tina out, as if they couldn’t leave fast enough. Jason’s radar went up. Something wasn’t right there, but he couldn’t tell if it was just their unhappiness with the trouble both kids were in, or if there was something deeper. He’d talk to Chloe about it later.
Or maybe he should ask Lauren now. Hastily, he moved to catch the women before they climbed into the elevator.
“Lauren.” He called her name as he slowly spelled it. Anne tapped her on the shoulder and pointed at him. Lauren turned around. Her hair swung against her shoulders, and the smile that brightened her face was stronger than anyone else’s. He didn’t understand, but let himself enjoy it.
“Can I ask you a few questions?”
Lauren nodded.
“Do you want me to stay?” Anne asked him, signing for Lauren.
“No.” Jason waved her offer away. “If Lauren will come to my office, we can use the computer. It’ll only take a couple of minutes.”
Lauren nodded, obviously remembering how they’d communicated before. Then she signed to Dylan, “Meet you at the studio.” The boy left with a thumbs-up sign.
“She says that’s fine. She doesn’t have to be back at the studio just yet.”
The elevator arrived, and Anne disappeared inside. Jason extended his hand to indicate Lauren precede him. She’d been to his office before, so he didn’t have to lead the way.
Once she sat down, Jason hesitated in the doorway. He always closed the office door for a meeting, but the room suddenly felt small, close...intimate. Slowly, he shut the door.
Shaking his head, Jason gathered his thoughts and settled beside her. He turned the monitor, pulled the keyboard forward then typed a simple question. How well do you know the Hancock family?
Lauren sat for a minute, a frown between her eyes. She began typing. They’ve been Dylan’s foster family for about six months. I didn’t know them before that.
He sat back and thought before typing. Do you think the kids are in a good place?
She didn’t immediately respond. He liked that she gave it some thought. I think so. She hesitated in between typing. They live very busy lives. Tina is a handful.
He laughed. “I got that,” he said aloud. Then went to type it.
She touched his arm and smiled. She typed, I read your lips.
“Can you do that?” He faced her. Of course, she could read lips. He should at least try to make it easier for her.
With her hand, she made the nodding gesture, then typed. Yes, if you face me, it’s easier. Once I get to know you and your speech patterns better, I’m pretty good at understanding.
He nodded. “I am still lousy at understanding you,” he admitted.
She smiled. Keep practicing. She typed it, then made the sign, rubbing her fist back and forth along the side of her index finger on her flattened hand.
Jason copied her gesture. “That means practice, right?”
She nodded, and for the first time, he realized he understood her. Without writing it down on paper or typing it or having someone else interpret. He understood her. It was a beginning.
Their eyes met. And held. So much was going on behind those pretty eyes, in her bright mind. Suddenly, he wanted to ask her a million questions and get to know the woman sitting beside him.
He turned back to the screen. Typing was still easier for them both. I got some strange vibes where Tina was concerned. Is she normally that reserved and quiet?
Lauren barely paused. No. She rummaged around in her purse for her phone, sliding her fingers quickly over the screen. Finally, she turned the bright blue phone to face him. The image of a young girl, her shirt open well past appropriate, wearing a very short skirt, with another group of kids, filled the screen.
He cursed. That’s what he was afraid of. “Can you send that picture to me?” If that was who Dylan had been dragging home, versus the prim and proper girl in the meeting, that could make a huge difference in his case.
Lauren nodded. He typed his phone number and heard his phone beep, indicating he’d received the text. He confirmed it and smiled at her. “Thank you.” He said it and made the gesture.
She smiled back, and once again their gazes locked. He couldn’t look away. She was amazing and beautiful and... A client. Of sorts.
Clearing his throat, he turned back to the screen. It was a safer, less intimate means of communication. If there’s something— Bad? Abusive? He settled for odd going on, would Dylan tell you?
She paused to think, slowly reaching over to type. Their fingers bumped.
I think so.
Could you let me know if he does?
She didn’t nod as quickly this time.
It could make a difference in his case.
Okay.
She was so close, her fingers still poised over the keys. The scent of her, soft and sweet, wrapped around him and he leaned closer, aching to be a part of her inner circle.
Hastily, Lauren shot to her feet. She fumbled to catch her purse, shoving the strap up on to her shoulder. She spelled g-o and pointed at the door. She walked quickly, pulling it open before he could even reach for it. She hurried to the elevator, waving vaguely, before stepping inside.
There was something in her eyes that confused him.
And concerned him.
