Page 57 of Interpreter

“Oh my God, Pe!” Milah’s eyes are wide when she scans our group. “I’m so sorry. I’m Milah, Tim’s co-teacher.”

“You mean his boss,” adds Hayes, his hands signing along with his words. I make sure to look around to see if anyone saw him do it, but no one seems to care that we’re standing in the middle of the room chatting.

Milah grins. “I guess you could say that.” She doesn’t sign her words though, and I wonder if she saw me do a sweep of the place. But when she shakes each of my crew’s hands and introduces Felipe, I decide she didn’t catch it.Of course she didn’t, Tim. Everyone is here trying to have a good time. No one is worrying about if we’re being looked at.They’ve all signed since we walked in, which could look to outsiders like any one of us could be deaf.

“So, Felipe, do you have any grungy hallways that seem a little stripper-y?” I snap out of the signing debate when I see Theo half sign his words to Felipe. Did I interpret that correctly? “I thought we were coming to a strip club—” Milah’s eyes narrow at me, and all I can do is smile. “—and I was looking forward to some filthy romps against something that might end up with me needing an antibiotic later.” Have mercy on my soul. I interpreted it correctly. I guess I should be lucky he didn’t say worse.

“He doesn’t mean that,” I say, mostly because it’s the right thing to say. No one needs to know about Theo’s sexcapades this early into meeting him.

“Shut up, Lambros. That’s exactly what I mean. Point me to a good rug that won’t hurt her knees.” This time, Anniston pinches his side, and it makes the group laugh. Whether he really means to have a romp against something filthy or just tried to break the ice between all of us, I’ll never know. Theo works in mysterious ways.

Which apparently amuses Felipe. “A man after my own heart,” he praises, his hands clapping together. “Come, let me show you my and Marcus’s favorite places.” Felipe tugs Theo by the shirt, and the bastard has the nerve to wink as he follows behind two queens dressed crazily similar to Céline Dion (I googled her last night). “Behave, boys, Daddy will be back,” he tosses over his shoulder with a half-assed salute to all of us.

I groan, facing Milah. “I’m sorry. We debated leaving him at home, but Anniston wouldn’t let us.” I grin at my commander who just shakes her head. Technically, I did debate leaving him at home. I debated leaving them all at home, but I didn’t.

“Please,” Milah, says, her smile wider than usual. “You met Pe, right?”

I did, and for all the random thoughts running through my head about what he looked like and how their relationship works, I was pleasantly surprised to find a Latin Céline Dion with a quiet boyfriend at his side who looks like he models for cologne commercials.

“I’m sorry I forgot to mention he would be in drag.” She looks around the room. “Or that this was a drag bar.” Her face falls, and she waits for my answer. Her chest is still, and I wonder if she’s holding her breath.

“It is a shame,” I tell her, the flat line of her mouth morphing into a frown. “Had you told me, I could have warned the others.” Her eyes drop to the floor, and I realize this is a sensitive subject for her. I lift her chin. “Hayes is probably disappointed he didn’t get to dress up.”

At that, she grins, and when Hayes throws out that he and Bianca already have a bet on how many numbers he can pull, she starts laughing.

“So you’re not upset I didn’t tell you?”

I eye her little crease—not wrinkle—between her brows. “Why would I be upset?”

She shrugs. “Sometimes it bothers people.”

“Not this crew.” That’s for damn sure. Theo is probably behind that stage living his best life with being hit on. He doesn’t care what gender you are. If you want to compliment him, he will accept it. “We’re unconventional,” I add, “if you haven’t noticed. We don’t tend to judge.”

You know, because we were all homeless, I say with my eyes.

“Right,” she says, a confident smile firmly on her face. “So you guys want a drink?”

With collective “Hell yesses,” I fall back and trail behind the others until Cade stops suddenly and faces me, his hands signing at chest level.

“I can see why you don’t mind going to work anymore.”

I look over his shoulder as a guy hoists Milah up and over the bar so she can pour my family drinks. Her dress is low cut with a slit cut midway to her thigh. The emerald color brings out the gold flecks in her eyes, and yeah, my jaw may have clenched a little. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell Cade, struggling to keep my eyes on his mouth and not on Milah laughing with the bartender who is not dressed in drag.

Cade follows my line of sight and laughs. “I think you do, and I think you’re too far gone to do anything about it.”

He said the magic words.It doesn’t matter.Now, I’ve had a few men in my life, and some of them have been okay with Pe’s lifestyle and my relationship with him, but some haven’t called me again. The point is: I don’t give a shit about the others. If they can’t see Pe’s awesomeness, then it’s probably best they go. But Tim? I don’t want him to go.

“Okay, be honest, Milah. Do you lock Mr. Broody in the closet all day?” The guy Tim introduced as Hayes is hilarious. “We’re not judging. We stuff him in the barn when he just won’t shut the fuck up.” I laugh, the comment hitting me in the ovaries. I have thought about locking him in the closet, but not for talking. No, I have way more creative uses for his mouth.

I look over Hayes’s shoulder, eyeing the man that makes my entire body warm at the mere sight of him. When we were all heading to the bar, Tim hung back, walking with another guy from his family, both of them taking in all the sights of Magic Michelle’s—which can be narrowed down to basically chiffon and makeup. This also brings up the fact that Tim, his family, and I are the only ones not in drag. I thought about it earlier, like right before he arrived, and started freaking out. But it was too late. He was already on his way. Dread sat knotted in my stomach as I thought about Tim feeling uncomfortable on a daily basis, and here I am inviting him to a bar where he is sure to stand out even more. But not for his hearing loss, so maybe that’s not as bad as school. So far, his family doesn’t seem to mind the dress attire either.

“Shut up,” Tim says, shoving his friend. “Don’t think since Theo hasn’t come back that you need to fill his spot with crappy jokes.”

Those brown eyes lock on mine as he slides onto the barstool. His body is massive and only serves to make the stools seem miniature.

“Would you like something to drink?” I ask him softly, containing my twitching hands on the counter to prevent them from signing.

He notices and sighs a long, ragged breath before he places his hands on the counter and signs, “A beer would be great.”

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