The Ballerina's Stand

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 (#ulink_bcd89d3d-b097-55b1-a3fe-dc23072ce2fd)

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.”

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.