The Ballerina's Stand by Angel Smits Page B

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.
    Â 

CHAPTER FIVE
    M AXINE 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.
    â€œIt’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.”
    â€œNo.” 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.
    â€œHow’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.
    â€œYou 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.
    â€œYes, 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.
    â€œYou 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 .”
    â€œThat’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