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I shake my head to clear it and approach the table at the center of the mountain.
Beyond us, the view is breathtaking. Clouds brushed with golden sunlight. Lush trees like a waterfall of green. An oasis in the middle of the city.
If only my knees weren’t knocking together like a newborn deer, I could appreciate this experience.
I walk unsteadily forward and hold my breath when I grip the back of the chair. My rings dig into my flesh, sure to leave indents.
Rather than retreat, I soak in the pain.
Richard Sullivan is staring me down. Unwavering.
But, just like last night when he saw me with the bat, it’s not anger I see in his gaze.
It’s… something else.
I can’t really define it, except it reminds me of the way I look at a new collection from my favorite designer. Like I can’t believe something so beautiful, something so inspired, can exist on this earth.
He sobers when he notices I’m watching him. His eyes shift from me to Jenny and the two seem to have some kind of unspoken communication.
His mouth moves. I’m too far away to lipread, but I assume he’s telling me to sit when his hand juts out and he points to the chair.
Richard Sullivan has a team of people standing around his end of the table. One of his men comes up and pulls out the chair closest to him, indicating I should sit next to the boss. I proceed to sit at the seat farthest away.
Sullivan’s lips quirk up.
Amusement.
Does he think I’m funny?
I can’t get a read on this man.
A few seconds tick by while we size each other up.
Like in the pictures, he’s wearing tweed again. It should age him. There’s a time and a place for such a heavy fabric. Instead, it makes him look more sophisticated. A touch of class to his rather mischievous brand of elegance.
I slide my gaze down to his arm and freeze.
There’s a garish pink princess watch on his left wrist.
What on earth?
Before I can figure out why a billionaire like Richard Sullivan is wearing such a girly watch, I notice a device being placed in front of me.
Jenny comes into my line of sight and signs, “Mr. Sullivan recently bought a research facility focused on technological advancements for the hearing impaired. This is a wired glove that can transmit sign language to a computer…”
I’m normally not impatient. One of the lessons I aced when learning ASL was keeping my eyes on the speaker. But today my eyes drop from Jenny to the gizmos on the table. They look like sci-fi rubbish.
“I’m no one’s guinea pig.” I whip my head up and stare at Richard Sullivan. He needs to know, right here, right now, that I use sign language to communicate with strangers. “Is that why you called me here? To turn me into your lab rat?”
Richard Sullivan tilts his head to the side. His eyes shift to Jenny who’s standing just beside me, blushing heavily. I hope she’s conveying my words with the right tone. If not, my body language should give it away.
I’ve gotten offers to be the representative for shady products before, but I refuse to exploit my community for a company’s gain. These products are so often pushed to market without proper research or they’re priced so high that the average folks can’t afford them. It’s ridiculous!
“You realize you’re in no position to be hostile,” Sullivan’s interpreter says. The woman’s hands move confidently. She looks as cutthroat as a lioness. “I was hoping this could be a friendly chat.”
I almost scoff.
“I’m deaf not stupid.” I crinkle my eyes at him. “I destroyed your car. I deserve to be punished. Let’s get to business so I can leave.”
