Page 56 of Interpreter

His response is almost immediate, which tells me he needs a life. Okay, fine, he’s a good doctor and quite possibly a good friend to have in my corner, even if I do give him hell on a weekly basis.

Dr. Parker: Oh? And are you excited?

At first, I think,how does he know to always ask these questions?But then I think about it and realize, if I didn’t have an issue, I wouldn’t be texting him.

Tim: My friend, the teacher I told you about, asked me to come. She said she would interpret the music for me.

Dr. Parker: But now you’re scared?

Tim: I’m not scared.

Dr. Parker: Okay. So…

I run a hand through my hair, tugging it before I text Dr. Parker again.

Tim: Why did I say yes? I hate signing in daily conversations. Why would I agree to her signing a song for me? Why am I here?

I’m either desperate or braver behind a phone screen, because, face-to-face, I doubt I would ever ask Dr. Parker to analyze my behavior.

Dr. Parker: Maybe you don’t hate it as much as you think? Maybe you wanted to enjoy this evening with her?

Maybe asking him was a bad fucking idea.

Dr. Parker: Are you going in?

Ugh. I glance outside the window and see my family waiting on my cue. It’s one night. I can handle one night. Right?

Tim: Yeah, I’m going in.

Dr. Parker: I knew you would.

He doesn’t know shit but how to get on my last damn nerve. But I do pull my ass out of the car, shove my hands in my pockets, and say, “Let’s go see some strippers.”

Hayes was able to record it. Although, Theo didn’t act as dramatic as we all expected. He simply turned around, gave us the look of death, and said, “This is some bullshit. I’m still fucking her somewhere filthy, so don’t even think about leaving early.”

I nod, not bothering with his threat. Magic Michelle’s isn’t at all what I expected. The walls are painted with a deep gray with black leather sofas and armchairs spread throughout the wide space. A few tables are nestled in a couple of the corners, and the bar is full of patrons already.

“Wait, these aren’t women.” Mason looks confused as he looks around again, his hands frozen with his last sign.

“You’re correct. They are better than women.” A man, dressed in a long chiffon dress, with heels that look like something Milah would wear, extends his hand; his fingernails, I notice, are the same shade of red as his dress. “My oh my. I should have known hotness travels in packs.”

Anniston turns around so I can see her face and grins. “I like him.”

“Everyone likes me, doll,” he adds, without a look of regret for butting into my and Anniston’s conversation. “So, which one of you is Mr. Broody?”

Mr. Broody?

Like Milah heard him, she comes out of nowhere and tries to shove the guy to the side, but he never moves. Granted, he’s six foot, so Milah’s tiny five-foot self isn’t going to do much damage. “Felipe! Why didn’t you tell me they were here?”

“Mami,” he muses, taking a slow look around our group. “Because you didn’t tell me he was bringing hot friends.”

The strain on Milah’s face shows how awkward the situation is—for both me and her. “I’ve never officially met them, Pe, so thanks for making us look like lusty whores and commenting on their looks before we introduce ourselves.”

Her scolding stare has me smothering a laugh. For some reason, I don’t want her to feel awkward around my family. These guys dish out a lot of shit. They won’t give a fuck if someone comments on their looks. It probably made Hayes and Theo’s night.

“I’m Mr. Broody,” I say, holding out my hand to Felipe, Milah’s roommate, and flashing her a wink, which has her cringing. Don’t think I’ll let that little nickname go. Now I know what she has been calling me around her family. Granted, my family calls her “hot teacher,” so I think we’re even in that respect. Besides, Anniston says nicknames are only given when someone cares about the other person enough to even make up the name. Which means Milah might give a shit about me. Which I suspected since I might give a shit about her too. I’m here, aren’t I?

“Well, well, Mr. Broody. It’s nice to finally meet you. I have to say, Milah hasn’t been that forthcoming about—” He motions up and down my body with a long nail. “—you.”

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