R. Griffin - Seamless

“So, you moving back in with us?” Billy asked, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“No. Just feeling a little vulnerable I guess.” She looked at her broken hand.

“Yeah, but Patrick said Jamie’s got a nice shiner. It was worth it, wasn’t it?” Billy smirked.

Although Stella didn’t tell him everything, she knew Patrick did, so telling Patrick was really like telling Billy, too.

“Fuck yeah it was,” she answered. Stella pulled an ink pen from the coffee table and stuck in down in the cast. “It itches like a bitch, though.” She kept moving the pen up and down, trying to scratch every inch of her hand and arm covered by the cast. The top of the pen got stuck in the cast when she pulled it out. “Fucker!” she swore, holding her arm out and shaking it so she could see where the cap had lodged itself.

“So, you’re allowing yourself to be used as bait, huh?” Billy asked, pausing the video game to watch her with an amused expression.

“Patrick told you?” She maneuvered the pen down her cast to try to push the top closer to the edge.

“Not much he doesn’t tell me these days, El. Millie has been on his ass constantly since you told her about him lying to you about Jamie. Low blow, by the way. So he needs someone to talk to with all you guys needing him and shit.” Billy walked over to where she was sitting and dropped down to the couch beside her. “Why can’t you need me?”

She filed away the fact that Millie was pissed at Patrick; she’d need to talk to him about it later. “Oh, but I do need you,” she said, laughing.

He took her arm in his hands and expertly used the pen to push the cap to the top of the cast and popped it out. “How’s that?” he asked.

“Oh, shit. Thank you.” She waved her cast at him. “See, I need you.”

“That doesn’t count,” he said, turning his video game back on and sinking back into his seat.

“I need you to give me a break in my otherwise pretty shitty existence. I need to talk about the pictures that keep circulating on Twitter, the fact that I shouldn’t wear tank tops anymore or that I’m twenty-fucking-six years old and I’m afraid to sleep in my own bed. And obviously, I need you to pull out the shit that I get stuck in my cast.”

Billy paused his game again and put his feet on the floor. “El, you don’t have to do this. Let the FBI do what it’s supposed to do. You’re not trained and it’s eating away at you.”

She took a sip of her wine. “I’m committed.”

“Or you should be committed.” He laughed. “I think it’s clear it won’t work. What will you do when it doesn’t work?”

“Know that I did every fucking thing that I could to keep George safe.”

“Get the fuck over yourself. This isn’t about George, it’s about you.”

She felt like he’d slapped her. This was about keeping the ones that she loved safe, even Billy.

“Stella,” he said, shaking her out of her own head.

She shook her head in disagreement. No way.

“Admit it. You want revenge. Doesn’t have anything to do with George. You admit that to me and then we’ll talk more.” He started playing his game and put his legs back on the coffee table.

Stella took a sip of wine and petted Cooper. Maybe she had been lying to herself.

I’m more fucked up than I thought.

* * *

The next day, Stella hurried out of her office and onto K Street. She and Millie were meeting at Café Carvy for a quick lunch. Stella wanted to run an idea by Millie. She voxed her en route.

“Lunch Box, I—” She busted out laughing. “This is Magic Box. I’m almost there. Get me whatever you’re having.”

Her Voxer app beeped and she heard Millie laughing. “I may have to get Patrick to start calling me that too.”

Stella smiled as she walked across 19th St. and found Millie standing in line.

“What’d you get us?”

“Turkey,” Millie responded. “I have to watch what’s in this lunch box. Don’t want it to get overfilled, you know?”

“Fucking gross, Millie.” She slapped Millie’s arm and Millie laughed hysterically. “How was y’all’s date last night?”

“It was fine; we went to that Italian place in Old Town. I was surprised you were already in bed when we got home.”

“I went downstairs to think and ended up falling asleep.” She shrugged and picked up her sandwich from the counter.

Millie led them over to a small table outside. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“I want to surprise George in Iowa. Do you think he’d like that?”

Taking a big bite of her sandwich, Millie nodded. “Yes,” she said with her mouth full. “Definitely.” Millie’s phone dinged; she looked at it and smiled. “We’re on Twitter. Let’s do a selfie and I’ll post it.”

“A selfie?” Stella laughed. “I don’t want to have anything to do with your selfie.”

“A fucking picture, Stella. I’ll post it on Twitter. You do need good things on there, you know.”

“Oh, like where I’m eating lunch?” Stella was incredulous that anyone would give a shit where she was having lunch.

“Yes, like where we’re eating lunch. It’s already on there anyway.”

Relenting, Stella leaned into Millie and spread her perfected fake grin across her lips. Millie took a picture and then posted it.

“See? Easy peasy.”

“We’ll have to leave in like, ten minutes or people will come over here trying to kill me,” Stella joked.

“So, Patrick told me the FBI is using you for bait now,” Millie commented, then took another bite of her sandwich.

“Fuck…who hasn’t Patrick told?” Stella rubbed her face with the palm of her hand.

“He’s worried. I think talking about it helps him.” Millie shrugged. “Hot dress, by the way. It makes your ass look amazing.”

“My ass is amazing,” Stella said with a valley girl accent and Millie laughed.

“I’ve told you this a number of times, but I really don’t understand how dumb, don’t forget to pronounce the b, please, you are. Your plan or strategy or whatever it is…is pure…dumbassery.”

Stella stopped mid-bite and put her sandwich down. An amused smile played on her lips. “Dumbassery?” Millie nodded, chewing.

“That’s not a word.”

“It should be and you would be the definition.” Millie put her sandwich down too. She spread her hands around Stella’s face, framing it. “Your fucking picture is the definition of dumbassery.”

She walked in the hotel bar and looked around. She didn’t see George until a woman moved and she got a glimpse of his blue oxford shirt and khakis. His hair was too long and curled over his ears. The woman was pretty, professional, and clearly in a serious discussion with Stella’s boyfriend. The woman and George were undoubtedly familiar; they were too close to be strangers. The woman’s head fell back in a cackle and she slapped his arm, yelling, “Will, you’re so bad!” All the anticipation of getting there to see George evaporated and a small twinge of emotion formed in her gut.

Straightening herself, Stella walked to the bar and ordered a drink, all the while watching the exchange going on between George and this woman. The woman put her hand on his and he moved it once, twice; if she moved her red head any closer to George she would be kissing him. Abruptly, George stood, creating distance between himself and the woman. His eyes widened as he saw Stella sitting at the end of the bar, sipping a vodka tonic. She raised her glass toward him as he made his way to where she was sitting.

“Love?” He bent to kiss her cheek, his voice tight.

“I wanted to surprise you,” she admitted with a shrug. “Surprise.”

“Shit, El. It’s not what you think…” he trailed off, looking back where the redhead sat studying them.

“That’s too cliché for us, don’t you think?” Stella stared into the clear liquid in her glass. Is this really how this will end? He cheats on me? “I don’t blame you, you know,” she said honestly. “I just wish you would’ve told me.”

He sat down heavily on the barstool next to her. “Blame me for what?”

She motioned toward the redhead. “Wanting someone else.”

George’s head fell to the bar and he sighed audibly.

“You’d be crazy not to.” Stella finished her drink in a gulp and pushed herself away from the bar. The wall she’d been fighting for over a year started rebuilding itself. “I’m going to see if I can get an earlier flight.” Stella turned and walked out of the bar, her hand shaking as she called a cab.

George grabbed the phone out of her hand and disconnected the call. “You know, it really pisses me off that you’re just willing to give up on us, El.” He started walking toward the elevators with her phone.

She followed him and stood, looking at him, wishing things were different; wishing that she was different. She took in his wrinkled clothes, tired eyes and disheveled hair. “What’s going on with you?” She asked as she followed him into the elevator.

“I’ve been working for 11 days straight. I’m worried about you. I need to write a good story so I can continue to do what I love.” George leaned against the wall of the elevator, his head resting against it.

“I’m not wearing any underwear because I thought as soon as we saw each other we’d attack each other.” Stella looked down. “I didn’t know you were being attacked by other women.” She exited the elevator and waited for him to show her to his room. “Who was the redhead?”

“Jessica.” George opened the door and waited for Stella to go in ahead of him.

Stella stood in the entryway near the door in case she wanted to escape this conversation. She’d rather just leave and not confront this very uncomfortable situation. She knew their relationship was too good to be true and it was sort of a relief to have George end it.

“So, are you fucking her?”

“Fuck, El.” George was exasperated. “No. And why do you even care if you just want to leave me?”

“George, I don’t want to leave you, but I will if that’s what you want,” she said sincerely; she would do whatever he wanted her to do.

“Why would you think I’d want you to be anywhere other than with me? After everything? I don’t know how much more I can do to show and tell you how much I love you.” His voice was weary, his eyes tired, his fight almost non-existent.

“That woman was about to kiss you in a bar.”

“But she didn’t, because I didn’t let her. She thought because I took this assignment that it meant I wanted to be with her,” George explained. “It didn’t.”

“What do you mean?” Stella moved from the entryway into the room.

“Well, she’s the one who requested I be put on Senator Ashby’s press detail,” he answered.

“Why would she do that?”

“She felt like she owed me.”

“For what?”

George took a long breath. “I don’t know, El. For breaking my heart.”

“What?” Stella was reeling. “Oh, shit. Wait…that’s the Jessica. The one who didn’t want to get married so you broke up?” It was all clicking into place now. The reason why George got this job in the first place was because of his ex-girlfriend.

“That’s the one,” he confessed.

“And she offered you this job and you didn’t feel the need to tell me you’d be working with your ex-girlfriend.” Stella was fuming.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I honestly didn’t think it was important. It’s been years.”

“Well, obviously she feels like it was just yesterday.” Stella couldn’t believe George didn’t mention that when he took the job. “She knows we’re together. I mean, everyone on God’s green earth knows we’re together and yet she was still in your face?”

“I hope you trust me enough to know that I wouldn’t do anything like that to you, El. I’d never cheat on you.” George sat on the bed. “And honestly, you seem hell bent on us not working out anyway. Is that what you want? Us not to work?”

Stella stared at him. “Don’t fucking make this shit about me. Of course I want us to work. I just acknowledge it may not.”

“Because if you just plan on giving up, tell me now and we can go our separate ways. I meant what I said, I want you in my life. I love you. But it’s getting real fucking old that you keep thinking its better if you walk away.”

“First of all, you’re the one that had your ex, a hot redhead, in your face and didn’t tell me that she not only got you this job, but would be accompanying you for months.”

“Nothing happened and nothing’s going to happen.” George put his head in hands. “Unfortunately, I’m utterly and completely in love with you.”