The Ballerina's Stand by Angel Smits

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.
    â€œNew client?” She sipped her own drink as she stood in the doorway.
    â€œUh, sort of. She’s not new. The boy is.”
    â€œUh, 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.”
    â€œReally?”
    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.
    â€œAnd 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.
    * * *
    T HE 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.
    â€œWhat’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.
    * * *
    A FTER L AUREN 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