I show her the conference room, and she nods. ‘Just let me know where you’d like me to sit.’
I point to the other side of the table, and she nods just as two men appear from the startup tech company. She immediately shifts into interpreter mode, moving toward them, waiting for me to make introductions.
I force my mind to shut up and focus. This is my first contract negotiation since taking over at the home office, and I need this to go well. Dex being a cheater can wait.
I’ll let her know after the meeting.
If I grow the balls to do it. Right now, they’re shriveled inside of me.
I force myself to wear my professional mask and get started. Lexi, of course, is fucking good at her job. Her signs are smooth like butter, her interpretations clear. Now I know why Dex is so good at signing and why he progressed so quickly. He must have learned a lot from her. I can even see some similarities in the way they sign things, which feels like tiny stabs to the center of my chest.
Her mark is all over him, and now, so is mine. Only she can’t see what I left behind.
I turn my attention back to the meeting, listening as they describe their company, and then I pull up some slides, ready to make my point in advocating for accessibility for Deaf employees. It’s all simple stuff, things I sometimes forget aren’t common sense for hearing people. A lot of what we do is teaching and making sure Deaf employees have access to the same things the hearing employees do.
We go over how my company can help, and when the meeting finally wraps up, they’re ready to sign on the dotted line.
My first successful negotiation without my dad, and all I can feel is guilt over what I did with Dex.
‘Congrats,’ she tells me, offering me her hand to shake again. ‘Seems like that went well.’
I grimace in an attempt to smile and nod. ‘I think so. Thank you for your help. You have your paperwork I can sign?’
She doesn’t seem to care that I’m being abrupt. She produces everything I need to scribble my signature on, and then she tucks it away and smiles again. ‘Feel free to request me again for your next meeting. It was very nice working with you.’
I nod, though the gesture is a fucking lie. There’s not a chance I’m going to go out of my way to work with her again. I don’t care how good she is. I can’t live with this feeling in my chest, especially because I know that eventually she’s going to learn who I am.
If she’s going to marry Dex, I’m going to see her. He’s Thom’s brother, and if anything, Thom and Robbie are only getting more serious. God help me if she finds out who I am, then sends me an invite to the wedding. How will Dex be able to look either of us in the eye?
My stomach roils, and I move to the bathroom, splashing water on my face, trying to regain my composure. But it’s hard when I’m feeling guilty as hell.
I should have told her about what happened. I should have warned her about him. About me.
About how I know that if I see Dex again, I’m going to do it all over again.
He’s a bad habit. One I can’t quit.
And one I’m not sure I want to.
I don’t mean to find myself at the drag club, but I know Denver’s there for rehearsals. They’re putting on a Deaf rendition ofThe Rocky Horror Picture Show, which I would be excited for if I weren’t stuck with my head so far up my own ass about Dex that I can’t see straight. But I sent out an SOS to a couple of friends who aren’t in Dex’s inner circle—which leaves Quinn and Theo out—and Denver was the one who answered.
It’s complicated because I know he was Dex’s professor, but I can only hope they haven’t become best friends in the time that I was gone.
I swing by the bar first to grab a gin and tonic, sucking on the lime as I make my way past the side doors, and I breeze into the dressing room hallway.
There are several drag queens in there I recognize, and I sign quick hellos before one of them points me in Denver’s direction. He’s in half costume, no wig but heels, fishnets, and a glittery black Dr. Frank-N-Furter corset, half bent over as he’s pulling something out of his bag.
I stomp on the floor, and he looks over, then smiles. ‘Hi! Did you see us rehearse?’
I shake my head. ‘Just got here.’ I take a long sip of my drink. It’s too fucking weak, but it has to be. I need to drive after this. ‘How was it?’
He sinks down, his shoulders heaving with a sigh, and then he points to an empty chair beside his makeup station, telling me to join him. ‘It’s going okay. Half of the queens are twenty-one-year-old Gen Z. They don’t even know who Tim Curry is.’
I grimace. ‘Tragic.’
He nods. ‘But we’re not here to talk about RHPS or Gen Z, who think that the cry-laugh face is sarcasm. Tell me what’s wrong?’
I guess we’re just jumping right in. I have to be careful when I spill my guts. I don’t know if Dex is still an active student after three years. The community college only offers a two-year program, so I’m pretty sure if Dex stayed on track, he’d be off the ASL pathway by now, but I have no idea if he stalled out or took a break.
