Page 54 of Interpreter

“You live above Magic Michelle’s?” he asks, slightly curious. “You don’t work there?”

For the love of baby animals. “No! I don’t work there!” Although I asked Felipe if I could a couple weeks ago, but that’s not important.

Tim grins, clearly only asking to get a reaction. I roll my eyes and smooth down my skirt. “I just figured we could talk and maybe get to know one another—casually.”

“So like a date?”

I dart up. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. This is not a date. I just thought we could talk and listen to Pe sing.” Is that sweat beading on my neck? I reach back. Oh my gosh, it totally is.

“You know I’m deaf, right?”

I don’t care that he’s smiling or that he looks better than a bowl full of mint M&M’s. His smart-ass comment is not appreciated.

I straighten, holding my head up high. “I’m aware of your hearing loss, Mr. Lambros.” Yeah, I went formal. This is not a date, and this is not a joke about his deafness. I wasn’t trying to be insensitive about his condition. I just thought… “I can interpret the music.” I shrug, a faint blush creeping up my cheeks. I might have watched a few videos since Pe mentioned it.

“You can interpret it?” That eyebrow questions me again.

“What are you? A parrot?” I give him my best annoyed look. “Yes, I can interpret it. Unless you hate Céline Dion and music?”

He mouths Céline instead of repeating her name. Such a smart-ass… but he nods, as if this whole ridiculous conversation amused him.

“All right, boss. Let’s bond.”

Radio host: I understand that. I don’t think I could ever give up music either. How are you coping since you are unable to hear? And for you fans that are listening, mine and Penelope’s conversation is closed-captioned, so that’s why there is a slight pause between my questions and her answers.

Penelope: I’ll be honest and say that I haven’t been coping well.

Radio host: Tell me more about that. What are some of the lifestyle changes that you’ve had to make in light of this new obstacle?

Penelope: Well, I suppose one of the biggest obstacles has been communicating with my son.

“She knows you’re deaf, right?”

I almost didn’t ask them to come. Simply because I knew I would spend several minutes fielding questions about being invited to Magic Michelle’s by Milah. Who is she? Why did Mason have to pick me up from the bar yesterday? Am I banging a stripper? You know, the usual with this crew.

“Are you serious?” Hayes asks, zooming in on the image lighting up his phone. “Magic Michelle’s isn’t a strip club?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t know,” comes Cade’s answer from his desk, his signing perfect. “I would have thought you’d scoured everypossiblestrip club in town by now.”

I agree. I’m shocked he doesn’t know. Hayes was a club frequenter when he was single. That’s how he met Bianca. Well, that’s not quite accurate, but that’s a long story.

Hayes looks pensive and genuinely concerned that’s he’s losing his talent of locating single hangouts. But after a moment, he shrugs, adding, “Who knew? I could have sworn it was a strip joint. Even the sign looks stripper-y.”

He’s right, the sign does look stripper-like. The bright pink lettering looked girly and erotic, but maybe that’s just our dicks talking. The only time I remember seeing it was when I first saw Milah, her hands full of coffee, attempting to get inside her car. I had thought she was a stripper. And yesterday, when I dropped her off, I still wasn’t sure. My guess was that she was a secret stripper or she had some family or boyfriend there. Needless to say, I was much relieved to know Felipe was her friend and not a club-owning boyfriend.

My mind—and my dick too—goes back to Milah and her awkwardness this morning. Her nervousness was so cute. At first I thought she was going to tell me something terrible. Something like Principal Moorehouse deciding that I’m not a great fit here or that Milah is tired of being nice to me when I keep shutting her down with minimal conversation. But once she blurted out all the team building nonsense and getting to know one another, I immediately relaxed. Sort of. Does she really want to get to know me? I haven’t been the best of company.

Maybe that’s why she is asking you, dipshit. Maybe she’s trying to see if there is a soul buried deep in the impenetrable exterior of yours.

Or maybe she just feels bad? It wouldn’t be the first time someone invited me out of pity. It’s hard to tell with Milah. She’s not one who strikes me as taking pity on anyone. I’m not saying she’s mean or anything; I just think that her expectations are the same for everyone. She doesn’t expect any more or any less from anyone. And I should know, I’ve been eating lunch with her and Oliver for the past few weeks in the music room. I hadn’t planned on it, but somehow Oliver sucked me in with his mocha eyes, curious expression, and endless questions.

“So, are we going?” This question is posed by Kane, who looks like he would rather do anything else but go to Magic Michelle’s. He’s been doing a lot more with us lately than when he first arrived about eighteen months ago. He was standoffish and a complete asshole. If I’m being honest, he was not someone the guys and I were thrilled to have at the foundation.

Anniston found Kane while she and Theo were on their honeymoon. She handed him her card and offered him a bus ticket to Georgia. He was reluctant but eventually took her up on the offer and came to Georgia to meet with Cade. A few minutes into their meeting, both he and Cade decided he wasn’t a good fit for the foundation.

None of us argued the decision because we didn’t get a chance to speak with him. Then months later, he appeared again, helping Hayes when he was injured. Come to find out, he was watching us. Watching how we lived, how we functioned as a family.

When he called Anniston from Hayes’s side, he sealed his fate with ours. Anniston wouldn’t hear of him staying at the assisted living place. See, Kane had recently become an amputee, and like the rest of us, he’s had a hard time adjusting to civilian life. So asshole or not, I try not to judge. We all have our demons.

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