The Ballerina's Stand (9 page)

“Oh, what good timing,” Susan piped up from her desk. “You don't have any appointments tomorrow after two. I'll put that in your calendar,” she offered and started typing.

“Why, thank you.” He choked out the words and wondered what they'd really discuss if he went to that meeting. He headed toward the elevator, indicating that Maxine could precede him.

“Oh, thank you, dear.” Maxine smiled too brightly. “But I did promise this lovely young lady an autograph. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Jason took the opportunity to escape, sending up a silent prayer that he'd have a practice left when he got back. He fully intended to have a chat with Susan.

He sighed. He needed to focus. He had a hearing to get through, and then he hoped to talk with Lauren tonight. He didn't have time to worry about what this woman really had in mind.

But Lauren didn't answer any of his texts that evening and he felt like a stalker when he drove by the darkened studio on his way home.

Despite his reluctance to go to the meeting, he found himself driving to the Scarlett Tea House the next afternoon. If nothing else, he was curious about Maxine and her relationship with Lauren.

New experiences were becoming the norm in Jason's life. First the ballet. And now? High tea? He seriously needed to book a flight home soon and schedule some beer and ranch time with his brothers.

The front doors of the Scarlett Tea House were as frivolous as he expected. According to the internet the Victorian house had never actually been a home. It had been built in this style specifically to be a tea house a hundred years ago.

He strode inside, purpose in his step and as much swagger as he could muster.

The Scarlett Tea House had been a well-known celebrity hangout a decade ago. It was still an elegant place where wheeling and dealing happened, but not with the younger set.

Lacy curtains, white tablecloths and dainty furniture made him wince. It was one thing to envision himself as the bull in a china shop—it was totally different to be one.

Maxine sat near the largest picture window, clearly showcased in the afternoon light. The elderly woman sat regally in one of those tiny chairs, wearing a bright red suit, as if she were part of the decor, with a floral-decorated teapot at her elbow. He made his way—carefully—through the maze of tables until finally reaching her side. “Maxine. Hello.”

“Oh, Jason. Please, have a seat.” She waved across the table toward a chair that didn't look big enough for his nephew, Tyler, to perch on, much less him. He carefully sat.

“Can I pour you some tea?”

He nodded, dreading the idea of trying to drink from one of the dainty cups and not fall off the chair he was so precariously perched on. But he couldn't think of any way to politely decline. They probably didn't serve whiskey here.

He sipped the brew from the paper-thin china cup, and once he'd done his due diligence, he carefully put the cup back on the saucer.

He had only met Maxine the one other time, yet he liked her. Liked the fact that she cared enough about Lauren to be curious about him. But while he liked her, trust had to be earned.

Movement at the doorway suddenly caught Jason's eye. He glanced over, surprised to see Lauren standing there, her gaze intense. She strode through the delicate tables without any evidence of the trepidation he'd felt.

“What are you doing?” She faced Maxine, signing with broad angry movements, which made it easier for him to read her sign.

Maxine wasn't fazed. “Interviewing my new attorney,” she said. “How did you know where we were?”

“
H
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u
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d
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s
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o
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n
. He has no secrets now.”

Maxine sighed and carefully set the fragile teapot down. “Join us.”

Lauren waved at the waiter as she pulled a chair from the next table. She picked up a place setting and made room for herself. She sat down with a thump.

If he hadn't been stuck in the middle of what looked like two very headstrong women, Jason might have sat back and enjoyed the show. Growing up with three sisters, he knew better than to say a word right now.

The waiter brought a second teapot and settled a dainty cup and saucer in front of Lauren.

Lauren signed quickly to Maxine. The older woman looked over at Jason then spoke as she signed. “I know it's only been three days. But if Wakefield taught me nothing else, it was that business comes before pleasure.” Pain flashed across the woman's features, but was quickly masked.

“Unless there's something urgent, we can wait—” Jason began, pausing when Maxine glared at him.

Lauren faced him, and while her frown was less angry, she was struggling. “She may
h
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i
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r
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e
you. She'd be stupid not to.” Lauren glared at Maxine. “But she's really checking up on me.”

“I am not,” Maxine said. “But since you brought it up, is there anything I should know?”

“No,” Jason said and Lauren signed at the same time. Maxine's knowing smile made the color rise in Lauren's cheeks.

To ease Lauren's discomfort, Jason reached out and covered her hand with his. He squeezed Lauren's hand gently, then withdrew it so he could sign and speak to Maxine. “We only recently met. I enjoy her company. I'm not going to do anything to hurt her.”

Maxine took her time sipping her tea. She glanced at them both before setting her cup down to speak and sign. “I
am
worried. Lauren is as close to a daughter as I have.”

“I'm a grown woman.”

“Who takes unnecessary risks. Building a studio in the ghetto. Staying out late with strange men. No offense.” She nodded to Jason.

Maxine's tone was lost on Lauren, but Jason heard the disapproval mixed with motherly caring in it. It sounded a lot like his mom, and a stab of grief caught him off guard. He missed her.

“I'm sure she knows you're capable,” Jason spoke, facing Lauren. “It's normal to worry.” He wouldn't say anything against the studio—he knew how much she loved it.

Lauren sat for a minute, then took more time pouring her tea. It reminded Jason of Maxine playing with her purse yesterday to stall. Interesting.

“The studio is doing well.” He understood her sign this time.

“And I'm proud of that, dear.” Maxine reached out to pat Lauren's hand. “But that doesn't stop the worry.”

“Why did you bring Jason here?” Lauren signed quickly.

Maxine smiled. “To check him out.” When she got the knee-jerk reaction she must have known Lauren would make, she laughed. “And honestly, to hire him. I'm serious. I need to get this taken care of.” Jason wondered if they even remembered he was there. He didn't remind them.

“Why?” Concern hastened Lauren's fingers. “Is something wrong?”

Maxine shook her head. “Nothing new. You know how many people I've lost lately. What if—” Her voice broke and her fingers paused. “What if I go like Wakefield? Just go to sleep...”

“That won't happen.” Lauren shook her head.

“It could.”

The silence and stillness stretched out. As if on cue, the waiter came over with a tray of tiny sandwiches and cakes. Jason just stared. They weren't even big enough for a full bite. The man took his time explaining the selection with practiced hand waves toward each. Both women sat waiting, neither signing nor asking for an interpretation. The way Lauren selected specific ones told him she was familiar with them.

Jason stared at the food. Lauren's hand on his arm made him look at her. She pointed at a couple. “Try these.” Using the dainty server, she put several on the plate and handed it to him.

He had to admit they were tasty, but the entire serving tray wouldn't even fill him up.

Once they finished and the empty tray was whisked away, Lauren faced her foster mother. Maxine tried to pretend she hadn't noticed, but she couldn't ignore Lauren tapping her arm.

Jason sat to the side, so reading her sign was a challenge, but he'd done better today.

“You can't keep interfering. I'm a grown woman. I know what I'm doing.”

“I know that, but—”

“No buts.” Lauren wasn't budging. “Trust me.”

Maxine fidgeted with the remaining silverware on the table, straightening the mess. The bluster and strong facade wavered for an instant, then she took a deep breath and looked up. The world-class ballerina was back. “Very well.” Maxine slowly stood, gathering her purse. She looked at him, then said. “I'll be in touch.”

Jason was surprised to see an elderly gentleman appear. After handing Maxine a receipt, he signed a greeting to Lauren, then took Maxine's arm and led her out of the room.

“That's
H
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u
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d
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o
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n
,” Lauren explained. “Her
b
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u
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t
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r
.”

Who had a butler in this day and age?

“I'm worried about her,” Lauren signed. “I can't give in to her need to
m
-
e
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d
-
d
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l
-
e
. Took too long to get this far.” She stared after the couple until they were gone out the front door. Then she stood to go.

“Need a ride?” he asked as he stood as well.

“No. Thank you. Just a couple of blocks.” She pointed in the direction up the street.

He wasn't about to step on that independence. So he nodded. She turned to go, then hastily turned back. Stretching on her tiptoes, she reached up and kissed him, hesitantly, on the cheek. Then hustled away, leaving him standing there in the middle of all that finery, not sure what the hell had just happened.

He hightailed it outside, taking in deep breaths of the hot city air. Women were strange creatures. He'd never understand them. That had been the most civilized cat fight he'd ever witnessed, and he'd seen plenty growing up. Maxine and Lauren had argued—in the midst of tea sandwiches and lace. And not a single plate had been broken.

His sisters would never believe him.

 

CHAPTER NINE

T
HE
DANCE
STUDIO
teemed with life. Lauren was teaching in the back, and another of the teachers, Linda, had a group up front—a dozen little girls using performance tutus for the first time—and Maxine was actually upstairs on the stage with the main performers. Maxine wasn't speaking to her, and had bypassed the usual staff meeting for practice.

Friday night would be a great performance—if they managed to get through the next couple of days.

Lauren took a deep breath, stepping back, and lowering her arms. This group meant the most to her. These were “hers.” They were all hearing impaired, and a big reason she'd wanted to start the studio in the first place.

Everyone was here, except Dylan, who'd landed the male lead. For the last week, Maxine had run him through the toughest paces he'd ever faced, and he was ecstatic. He still had moments where he worried about the legal case and Tina. But he was learning to separate the two worlds, not an easy task at fifteen. Heck, not an easy task at twenty-eight.

Lauren waved her arms, to get the kids' attention and pull her own scattered attention back on track. As soon as they were all looking at her, she signed the next set of instructions, and they eagerly went to work. She clapped in time with their steps, guiding them the way Maxine had done for her as a kid. She enjoyed their performance, as much as their accomplishment. They'd come so far.

Ah, to be so young and innocent.

Simply wanting to dance and please. Not have to make a living with all this, not being responsible for the success—or failure.

The kids completed the final movement with perfection. Beautiful perfection. It almost eased her concerns. Almost.

“Okay, everyone.” She signed to her group and waved at Linda. The other group came over, giggling as they tried to sit in the stiff tutus. Finally, all the children settled on the floor, looking up expectantly. They knew the drill. Lauren would sign, and Linda would interpret for those who were hearing.

“Friday's the big night. Are you all ready?”

Heads nodded and ponytails bobbed. “Ms. Ramsey?” Sarah Wilson asked, lifting her hand at the same time. “Is there really gonna be people there b'sides Mom and Dad?”

Linda laughed, as Lauren smiled at her. She'd read the girl's eager words. Still, Lauren signed for the others. Christy piped up before either of the adults could answer. “Well, of course, silly. My mom and grandma are comin'.”

Lauren signaled for silence again. “There will be a full audience.”
She hoped
. The studio needed the money, and they'd sold most of the tickets. “You are all ready for this.” She didn't ask them. She told them. Every head nodded in agreement.

Maxine and her group, the older kids, came in then, not sitting on the floor with the little ones, but leaning against the walls or standing behind the group. Dylan stayed a bit back, his arms crossed over his chest. Maxine's brow was furrowed. Now what?

She sighed and gave the signal for everyone to finish up. Only Dylan and Maxine remained behind. The vibration of all those little feet on the floor as they headed to the locker rooms felt like a wave.

“Dylan is out of sync today.” Maxine didn't hold back. Her signing was harsh and angry. Dylan recrossed his arms.

Yesterday he'd missed cues and lost track of where they were in the routine. Lauren hadn't called him on it then, hoping today would be better.

“What's wrong?” she signed, trying not to come across as angry. She needed him to relax and open up. She looked pointedly at her foster mother, wanting time alone with Dylan.

“Fine.” The older woman threw up her hands in her typical dramatic way. Lauren tried not to smile. “Hudson is outside. I'll see you both tomorrow.” She did the whole air-kiss thing with Lauren, and though her hands shook, telling Lauren she wasn't as calm as she wanted them to believe, she signed goodbye to Dylan.

“She cares about you,” Lauren signed. “Don't be so stubborn with her.” They both watched Maxine walk slowly away, and Lauren wondered who that bit of advice was really meant for. She turned back to finish her conversation with Dylan.

He looked sheepish, clenching and unclenching his hands in a familiar nervous habit as he watched Maxine leave. “Tina didn't come home again last night.” His fingers flew. He didn't bother to speak. They never did when it was just the two of them.

“Oh, no.” Lauren squeezed his arm. “Did your foster parents do anything?”

He shook his head. “They didn't know. I'm worried. I texted her. No answer.”

Lauren felt herself tense, her protective instincts going into high gear. Dylan was one of her best students, and one of the kindest people she knew. And a friend. She didn't like to see him hurting.

“Have you texted Rhonda?”

He vehemently shook his head. “That will get Tina into more trouble.”

Lauren tapped her chin. How could she make Dylan feel better? She didn't like what Tina was doing—but in many ways she understood. Hadn't she done something similar as a teen? Pacing away, Lauren tried to think.

She had to do something. The performance was in two days.

“You have to focus.” Lauren went back to Dylan. “How can I help?”

“You can't do anything.” Dylan's face filled with defeat, and he slumped onto one of the chairs near the wall. “No one can.”

* * *

J
ASON
LEFT
THE
COURTROOM
. He glanced at the grand old-fashioned clock mounted in the middle of the rotunda. An hour to spare.

It figured that the week Wyatt and Emily were finally able to visit him was one of Jason's busiest weeks, and one during which he couldn't rearrange much of anything.

Getting out early today was the best Jason could hope for.

His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out as he descended the wide stone steps. Lauren. He smiled.

Do you have a minute?
she'd texted.

For you, of course.
Then it dawned on him that maybe there was a problem.
Everything okay?

No. Tina didn't come home last night. Dylan's upset.

Jason cursed. What was wrong with that girl? Nothing that wasn't typical teen behavior—except Los Angeles wasn't the best place to experiment with spreading your wings at thirteen. And foster care didn't leave much room for mistakes.

How can I help?
He shouldn't do this. He had to pick up Wyatt and Emily in an hour and a half.
Did you text her?

No answer
.

That could mean so many things. None of them good.

What's her number? Let me try.

A number appeared on his screen. He hurried to his car but grumbled when he found no service inside the concrete bunker-like parking garage. He hustled to drive outside, and stopping at the top of the ramp, he dialed.

It went straight to voice mail. He texted Lauren, and she sent back a frowning emoticon.

What's Dylan's address? I can drive by and see if she's at the house
. He had it in a file, but getting it this way was much faster.

He's afraid Rhonda will get mad at Tina if she finds out she didn't come home.

Those concerns Jason had about the family returned with a vengeance. He didn't give a damn if anyone got upset. The girl's safety, and that Dylan was okay, was all that mattered at this point.
What's the address?
he typed again.
I'll say it's for the case.

When the address appeared on the screen, he glanced at his watch. The house was about halfway between the airport and the studio. If everything worked out, he'd make it. Maybe.

I'll let you know. Tell Dylan not to worry.
Jason tossed his phone onto the passenger seat then headed out into traffic.

A short while later he was in front of a small craftsman-style house. The yard was thin, patches of dirt showing through the pale green grass. Ancient metal fencing surrounded the yard in a neat little square. Heat shimmered off the broken pavement of the street and, as he climbed out of his car, Jason heard the hum of a window air conditioner.

Disrepair had a hold on the neighborhood and was creeping deeper. Like the neighborhood around Lauren's studio, time and neglect had left its mark. The house itself still looked in good repair and fairly well kept for a home with half a dozen kids living in it.

He was halfway up the walk before he heard the voices. The loud, angry voices.

“You try that again, young lady, and I'll lock you in all night.” The woman's voice was harsh and familiar. Rhonda Hancock. Was this the anger Dylan had feared?

“No!” Tina cried.

“Then get that cleanin' done, now. Or tonight will be the same.”

Same as what? Jason hurried up the walk. The hair on the back of his neck was at full attention now.

“But I have to—” The sound of skin hitting skin cut off Tina's words.

“You don't have to do anything but get to work.” A phone rang, interrupting the conversation. “And give me that,” the woman yelled.

“Not my phone!”

Something shattered and Tina sobbed. Jason took the steps two at a time.

“That's Dylan's only way—”

“Dylan has more important things to do than worry about you. He'll at least amount to something.”

Jason reached the door and knocked hard. The voices fell silent. He pulled open the screen and rapped again, harder, rattling the wooden door. “Mrs. Hancock. Tina?”

The door flew open. Jason expected to see Tina, either at the door, or behind the woman. She was nowhere in sight. Only Rhonda Hancock. He wasn't ready to confront the woman yet, not until he knew where Tina was and who else was inside.

“I've been trying to reach Tina.” He wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. This woman knew full well who he was. “I have more questions for her.”

“Oh, well, we can bring her to your office tomorrow.”

“No.” He took a step closer. “No, I need to see Tina. Now.”

The woman's eyes widened, and Jason knew he was intimidating her. Good.

“Tina!” the woman yelled over her shoulder.

Shuffling steps came from the darkened interior. Slowly, Tina stepped into the light. Jason held back his reaction. Her deep, dark eyes were wide and sparkled with unshed tears. Behind those tears, he saw a strong shadow of fear, and on her left cheek was the clear imprint of a hand.

“Hello, Tina. Remember me?” For her he'd be pleasant.

All her attitude was gone, and Jason actually mourned its loss. It wasn't something she'd have easily given up. Tina nodded, hugging the edge of the doorway.

Jason pinned Rhonda with his best courtroom glare. “I need to speak with her. In private.” He emphasized the last as much to see her reaction as anything.

The woman's glare matched his. “I don't think that's a good idea. She's my responsibility. You know that. You're a lawyer.”

He knew crooks, too. “Why not? Afraid of what she'll tell me?”

That got her attention, and his stomach churned as he waited for an answer. Rhonda turned around and looked at Tina, who hastily shook her head, moving as if she might melt into the wall.

“I'm not leaving until I talk with you, Tina.” He wanted to reassure her, but Rhonda was so unpredictable. For that matter, so was Tina. So he leaned back on his heels, affecting a less threatening stance.

The woman stepped away and cleared the path. “Be quick about it.”

“Come on outside.” Jason waved for Tina to come toward him and tried to smile at her. As she passed her foster mother, he saw the way she flinched.

“I'll be watching you both.” Rhonda moved back into the doorway once Tina had passed. Jason held the screen open until Tina had stepped outside, then he let it close.

“Go all the way out to the gate,” Jason instructed. He wanted to make sure Rhonda couldn't overhear anything.

Tina stopped right at the gate, looping her long thin fingers around the top row of metal.

“You don't have to answer anything for me.” He spoke softly. “But I
hope
you will. First, is there anyone else in that house?”

Tina shook her head, still not looking at him.

“Where were you last night?” They didn't have much time, and he needed to know what he was getting into. Tina's shoulders hunched, and she stared at the sidewalk. She didn't answer.

“Dylan's worried. He's why I'm here. I don't really have any more questions for his case.”

She looked up at him then. Her eyes once again flooded with damp.

“Does your foster mother know sign language?”

Tina shook her head.

“Good. You can answer in sign. I'm not real good at it, but you can spell your answer if I don't get it.”

Was that relief he saw wash over her face? “You came home last night, didn't you?”

She nodded.

Curses filled his mind. “I heard her say something about locking you in. Did she?” He knew this girl had caused trouble in the past, but he saw true fear in her eyes right now. “Tell me the truth,” he urged.

Tina's nod was slower this time, and her nervous gaze kept darting toward the house.

“Where did she lock you in?”

“
B
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a
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m
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e
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n
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t
c
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l
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o
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s
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e
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t
.” Her hands shook as she finger spelled.

Jason saw red and cursed. The only thing that kept him from heading back into the house and giving the woman a taste of her own medicine was the girl cowering in front of him. He reached into his pocket and handed her his phone. “Tina? Take this. Text Dylan that you're okay.” Then he hit the button on his key fob and unlocked the car. “Get in my car, and I'll take you over to Lauren. Is there anything important in that house that you or Dylan need right now?”