The Ballerina's Stand

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.