R. Griffin - Seamless

“No way in hell,” Millie retorted.

“I mean, I went to law school and my life is shit, but I still took the bar.” Stella pushed her sunglasses up her nose. She’d pulled her hair back into a very unattractive ponytail that suited their backyard lounge lizard morning. “It’s super yummy,” she concluded. “You should read it.”

“Loan it to me?”

“Sure. I’m done with the first book. There are two of them.”

“I’m reading the last book in that series about breathing. It’s an emotional roller coaster. I kind of want to stab the main character.”

“You’re so violent, Millie.” Stella laughed. “I don’t know why you read such dramatic shit. There’s no need for that.” She shrugged. “I’ve got enough emotional bullshit for ten people.”

“True story,” Millie confirmed.

Stella stood up and went to the cooler; Cooper got up and followed her. “Coop, we’re not going anywhere, calm down.” She reached in and grabbed a beer. “You want one?”

Millie nodded and put her hand out toward Stella.

Stella twisted the top off the beer. “So, I have this new app on my phone that George and I have been using. It’s awesome. It’s like a walk-talkie for your phones.”

“Like old school walkie-talkies?” Millie asked, her eyes interested.

“Yeah. It’s called Voxer and it’s like an audio text message. Also, you can do it without using your minutes and it’s easier than calling someone.” She motioned toward Millie’s phone. “Give me your phone.”

“Don’t you have to have handles for walkie-talkies?” Millie asked as Stella installed the app on her phone. “My dad used to have a CB radio. His handle was Grizzly Bear.”

Stella burst out laughing. “Grizzly Bear?”

“What? That was when Smokey and the Bandit was big; he was big like a bear and mean as fuck too. Pretty accurate name.”

Stella was still laughing. “We should come up with really stupid handles for everyone and put this app on everyone’s phone.” Stella snorted just thinking about it. “Billy can be No Balls!”

“What would yours be?” Millie giggled.

“Hmmm. We need to come up with good ones for us.” Stella was quiet while thinking. “Oooooooh, Jesse’s can be Plays with Balls!”

“Oh, I get it! All the boys will be some sort of ball name?”

“You’re so bright,” Stella said sarcastically.

“Ours can be boxes,” Millie suggested, snorting a little when she burst into giggles.

Stella nodded. “I have a magic box.”

“You can call me Jewelry Box,” Millie laughed.

“Does that mean that you have a bedazzled vajayjay?” Stella pondered for a moment. “You can call me Toy Box.”

“Lunch box?” Millie squeaked out in between laughs.

“Oh. My. Shit.” Stella snorted and spit beer across the porch.

Stella was in her car the following week and pulled out her phone, tapping the Voxer app. “Breaker breaker, Hairy Ball.” She chuckled. “I got a couple of ideas. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She and Patrick had been talking about the Jamie situation, but she didn’t want to discuss it with him with everyone around during the weekend.

She got an immediate answer. Voxer was so much better than texting or calling.

“Tomorrow, 5:30.”

“10-4.”

“What’s your 20?” Patrick came through.

“Going into the office now,” she said into her phone.

“I don’t have that much hair on my balls. And I have two balls. Pick another handle for me.” His voice was annoyed.

Stella couldn’t contain her laughter.

“Be safe.”

“Always,” she answered and put her phone back in her purse. She got in the elevator and punched in the 11th floor and watched her feet, thinking about how she would get Jamie to admit to everything, as the car ascended. She took her foot out of her shoe and wiggled her toes, hoping for some relief from her new red heels. They were fabulous-looking, but hurt like a bitch. The elevator dinged and she slipped her shoe back on, looking up as the doors opened.

He was standing at the elevator bank, waiting for the elevator with a bunch of other people.

She gasped and then tried to hide her surprise. She elbowed by him and walked into the lobby of the firm. She felt him following her and tried her best to ignore him. She smiled at Brenda and walked around the receptionist desk into the back hallway.

“Stella?” Jamie called from the lobby.

She thought about what Stan said and stopped. She calmly counted to thirteen and turned around, walking back to the lobby. “Yes?” Her expression was passive, as if she had no idea who he was.

He smiled that all-American smile she’d been used to in college. “I was wondering if you had a few minutes to talk about a legal issue I’ve been having.”

Brenda spun around to take in Stella’s reaction.

“Did you make an appointment?” Stella said, following his lead, her face remaining blank.

“I was hoping you’d have a few minutes.” He glanced at Brenda and shrugged in an “aw, shucks” way.

Stella’s skin crawled with unease. “I’m sorry, Mr.…” she started, still playing along.

“Ryder,” he answered easily.

“Mr. Ryder. You’ll have to make an appointment with Brenda; I’m late for a meeting.”

“That’s too bad.” His eyes twinkled as if to say “game on.”

Stella turned on her heel and walked as casually as she could back to her office. She closed the door and sank into the chair, her legs shaking. Motherfuck. She was going to have to figure out how to record him admitting to shooting her like she didn’t know already. If that’s what she needed to give Agent Harris to cover her own ass, that’s what she’d get.

* * *

George was typing out a piece on new legislation that Senator Ashby from Virginia was introducing aimed at stricter gun control. He loved this part of his job—reading the legislation and finding any holes in it or all the pet projects added to the legislation in order to obtain votes from other Senators. This was the fun part. There was money allocated to study ticks in this particular piece of gun legislation. Because that makes sense. He shook his head as his phone rang. “What’s up?”

“I feel like I’ve been run over by a fucking truck, dude,” Jesse complained into the phone.

“Didn’t you?” George asked. He’d watched the Falcons game last night and Jesse had gotten his block knocked off.

“I’m serious. I haven’t gotten out of bed all day.”

“You okay?”

“Fucking concussion,” Jesse replied. “It’s the third one in my NFL career.”

“You worried?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m worried. All those tests that show football players die after they quit playing and all the concussions really take a toll of players’ bodies—shit, man.”

“I know,” George agreed. “You got your doctors on it?”

“They do what they can, man. What can I say? It comes with the territory, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess it does.” George pulled up his email and was sifting through them when he saw an email from his ex-girlfriend, Jessica. Curious, he opened it.

Will,

I hope things are going well for you. I’ve noticed you’re writing again. I think I have a job that you may be interested in. Call me. My number’s the same.

Jessica

He noted that the signature of the email was from Senator Ashby’s office; she must be working for him now. He was re-reading the email again and thinking about the things they did to each other when they both worked on the House side of the Hill when Jesse’s voice brought him back to the present.

“George?” he heard Jesse saying.

“Oh, sorry, dude. What did you say?”

“I said I haven’t gotten any closer to the Jamie situation, but I have two bodyguards that have gotten rooms next to Stella and Millie’s room in New York.”

“That’s awesome, man. Thanks.”

“Have you told her we’re doing that yet?” Jesse asked.

“I think I’ll tell her when she gets there and meets them. You know her, she’d pitch a fucking fit about being independent and shit.” George smiled just thinking about her likely reaction to bodyguards for her and Millie in New York. He wouldn’t have done it if she hadn’t been such an ass about them going by themselves.

“I’d hate to be you during that call.” Jesse laughed. “I gotta go, man, I need some more pain meds.”

“Feel better,” George said.

“I’m trying.”

Stella brushed her teeth and looked in the mirror. She’d just taken a sleeping pill so hopefully she’d sleep soundlessly. George downplayed her nightmares and talking in her sleep, but she was sharing her hotel room with Millie and didn’t want to scare the shit out of her friend. She was dreading it, but didn’t know how to force Millie into paying for her own room in New York when Stella was the one who’d invited her.

On the outside, she’d perfected the calm, composed façade. In direct contrast to the outside, Stella’s insides were churning. Therapy, which was supposed to help her mind, was forcing her to face things she didn’t want to and her nightmares had actually gotten worse.

Reluctantly, Stella walked to the left side of the bed and grabbed her iPod. She selected a soothing playlist full of The Civil Wars and Ben Harper. Hitting play, she got into the bed and smiled at Millie, who was reading on her Kindle.

“What are you reading?” Stella asked.

“Oh my shit, it’s so good. It’s about a con artist, a tattoo artist and a drug lord.”

“Um…okay.” Stella sunk into the bed.

“You’d love it. I’m Team Camden, but whatever,” Millie said, knowing Stella didn’t care.

“You’re on a team for the book?” Stella asked, her eyebrows raised in skepticism.

“There’re teams for all books,” Millie responded flippantly.

“I wasn’t aware of that, Millie. I’ll keep it in mind next book I read.” Stella laughed and put her earbuds in. She only heard a few songs before her sleeping pill kicked in and she was asleep.

Her body tingled with the feeling she got right before she threw up; she felt both hot and cold. It was that feeling that makes you want to vomit so bad just to get it over with, to feel better; the feeling that there’s something sitting on your chest and pressing down on your organs. She looked around quickly, taking in her surroundings. It was Finnegan’s, but no one was there except her. All of a sudden, she heard a shot ring out from the back of the bar where the office was located. She went to spring into action and run to where the sound came from, but her limbs were moving at a pace only a turtle would be proud of. She looked down to see why should couldn’t move and her chest opened and began oozing blood down her body. A scream stuck in her throat as she heard labored footsteps behind her. Painstakingly, she turned her head to see George walking toward her, holding his chest, blood pouring from a hole near his heart. She looked down at her chest and then at his. He took another step and then collapsed, face-first, directly in front of her feet.

“George!” she cried. All of sudden she could move again. She screamed, squatted down and turned him over. His body was hard, like he’d already been embalmed. Stella screamed again as her blood mixed with his and pooled under his body.

She jolted awake when someone touched her arm. Millie had turned a lamp on and was looking at her, her eyes full of fear. “You okay?” Millie whispered.

Stella looked at the clock; it was four o’clock in the morning. Well, at least she’d made it through most of the night. She ran her hand through her now shoulder-length bob, her fingers catching in the sweat drenched hair. “I think you know the answer to that,” Stella quipped as she got up and walked to the bathroom.

* * *

The next day, Stella and Millie had attempted to go to breakfast early before the interview started, but were blocked in their room by two burly men guarding the door.

“Excuse us.” Stella tried to squeeze through the men’s shoulders.

“Ms. Murphy, Ms. Rodriguez, we’re meant to stay with you while you’re in New York,” the bigger of the two said.

“What?” Millie said from behind Stella.

“I’m confused,” Stella replied, peering at Millie.

“We’re your bodyguards this weekend,” the other man-beast barked.