Seamless

by Griffin, R. L.

  She shook her head, laughing. “George, I really appreciate it, but I’ll be buying this myself.”

  He stared out the window, defeated.

  The salesman cleared his throat. “Will you be writing me a check as well?”

  Stella smiled as she pulled back into the lot. “Damn right I will.” The car made her happy. Not much genuinely made her happy, but this car did. And if she could buy happiness, she would buy it with Jamie’s money.

  Stella was cutting romaine hearts for the Caesar salad to go with the grilled chicken and veggies George had on the grill. She uncorked the wine and they were just waiting on her parents to get there. They’d called earlier and had checked into the Westin near Old Town. George put on his iPod and they were listening to The Lumineers. She swayed her hips to the beat of the song and hummed along.

  Cooper was walking around in the kitchen like he was hungry. She leaned down and rubbed behind his ears, noticing the fur on his face was starting to turn white with age.

  “I already fed you, pal.”

  Cooper shook his ears back and forth. Stella went back to dancing around the kitchen, stopping when Cooper stood on his back legs and put his huge paws on her chest, wanting to dance with her.

  “Oh, you want to dance, huh?” Stella put down the knife and danced with Cooper. He had loved dancing with her, and that bastard, Jamie, when he was a puppy. She hadn’t danced with him in too long. She tried not to move around too much; his hip seemed to be bothering him earlier.

  The doorbell sounded and Cooper hopped down to bark at the front door. Every time he let out a loud, protective bark he would shake his head, like his own bark hurt his ears. Stella smiled as she opened the door and saw her parents standing on the front stoop being photographed.

  “Sorry,” she said apologetically, pulling them in. “I was hoping they’d be off chasing someone else tonight.”

  “Well, I don’t know why we’re shocked. We see it every fucking day on the news. Like people aren’t getting killed overseas or something. Hey, baby.” Her dad hugged her and looked around their house. Both of her parents rubbed Cooper’s back as they entered the den area.

  “It’s going to be a very long ride home,” her mother said, narrowing her eyes at her husband and kissing Stella’s cheek. “Where’s George?”

  “At the grill.” Stella motioned them further into the house. “So this is where we live.” Her parents scrutinized the decorations, the mess, and her appearance; she could see it in their eyes. “Dad, why don’t I get you a scotch and you can go help George with the food?”

  “Sure,” he said, following her into the kitchen. Her father had aged since she’d seen him a few months ago; his white hair somehow looked whiter and his wrinkles had multiplied.

  “You okay?” Stella asked quietly.

  “I’m fine,” he almost grunted. He took the drink and walked outside on the back porch.

  Her mother walked around the walls of the den, looking at George’s art. Stella poured her a glass of Chardonnay that her mom liked and walked over to her.

  “Thanks. These pieces are lovely. Who did them?” She took the wine from Stella not taking her eyes off the paintings lining one wall of the den.

  “Thomas Arvid. He’s from Atlanta so you probably recognize them.” Stella smiled and walked back into the kitchen. “All of his work is focused on wines. That one on the right is George’s favorite. It’s called ‘Friends in Town’ and has all his favorite wines.” She went back to preparing the salad and busied herself in the kitchen, trying not to be bothered by her dad’s appearance. All parents get old, right?

  “Oh, he’s always involved in the Atlanta wine festival. I have seen his work before. I love it.” Her mother walked toward the kitchen. “Can I help?”

  “I got it handled.” Stella took a sip a wine and sprinkled the roasted pine nuts over the salad.

  George came in and gave her mother a hug.

  “It’s so good to see you, Mrs. Murphy,” he said jovially before turning to Stella. “Hey, Love, it’ll be about twenty more minutes on the chicken.” He slapped her ass and went back outside.

  Her mother’s face tightened at their public exchange. “Did you take care of my car?”

  “I sure did. She’s ready for you to have back, washed and full of gas.” Stella smiled. “Thank you so much for letting me borrow it.”

  “Well, I wish your father would just let you have it. I’m happy to give it to you.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “I had my eye on a new little two-door BMW.”

  Stella laughed at her mom and winked. “Not a word out of me. You should’ve told me that and I would’ve wrecked it.”

  Miranda tucked her black bob behind her ears and shook her head. “That’s not funny, Stella. What are we going to do with you?”

  Stella didn’t comment, only asked her mom to help set the table in the dining room that Stella had never eaten in. George brought in the chicken and vegetables and Stella got everyone’s salads done and on the table. They were just sitting down for dinner when her dad starting asking the questions she’d been avoiding for the past month and a half.

  “So did they find out about the car? How it got here?”

  And here we go… “So Jamie somehow got it here.”

  “What!?” her dad yelled and jumped out of his seat.

  She wasn’t surprised by his reaction, but it looked like her mother and George were. Stella had told her dad the basics of what happened after Key West, including the fact that Jamie shot her. She’d been putting off this conversation. She’d asked him not to tell her mother everything, but she wasn’t quite sure how much she knew about Jamie’s involvement.

  “Stella Eugenia Murphy. Why the fuck haven’t you told us this before now?”

  “Damn, Dad, watch your language,” she deadpanned.

  Miranda looked stricken and sick all of a sudden. “I thought—”

  “What does this mean?” Stella’s dad boomed in the small dining room.

  “As you’re aware, there was a bomb and a death threat waiting for me when I got back to town.” Stella shrugged. “It just turned out to be Jamie instead of someone connected to the Montana testimony.”

  “You mean someone else connected to the Montana case,” her dad chided, reminding her he knew about Jamie, but not making it too obvious to her mother.

  “Fine,” Stella said loudly, slamming her silverware down.

  Her dad was pacing the length of the room, which was five steps in one direction; watching him panic was driving her crazy. George was silent, looking at Stella. Her mother was watching her father pace.

  “Dad, sit down and eat,” she insisted. “We’ll talk.”

  “I don’t understand why you haven’t told us this.” Her mother’s was voice shaking with emotion as her father gave a final huff and sat down.

  “I’m just trying to keep you guys out of it. I’m working with the FBI. We’ll get him,” Stella said confidently.

  “Oh, you’re working with the same people who fired you because you were shot by some fucking lunatic,” her father spouted off. “That sounds like a great fucking idea, Stella.”

  “I don’t understand,” her mom repeated.

  “The less you know, the better, Mom.”

  Miranda shook her perfectly coiffed black bob. “I…”

  “I’ll be fine,” Stella soothed unconvincingly.

  “This is bullshit,” her dad blurted. He drained his scotch glass and then charged outside, slamming the door.

  Stella met George’s eyes across the table. He smiled weakly.

  “Stella, I think I’ve lost my appetite.” Her mom was apologetic as she got up and followed her father outside.

  Chapter Eight

  Lunch Box

  Monday, after her parents left, Stella walked a block from her office and sat at a bench overlooking the street. Her parents’ visit had been very tense, mostly because her dad never got over the fact the bomb was from Jamie. She’d been tryin
g to keep them out of all that was going on, but obviously she needed to update them more. She looked at her watch, then her cell phone out of habit, for the time and laughed out loud at herself. I can’t tell fucking time anymore. Pushing her sunglasses up her nose, she looked around, becoming impatient. A few minutes later, she felt someone sit down next to her.

  “Nothing like being late,” she joked.

  “Well, this ain’t real convenient for me,” the man said and unbuttoned his suit coat.

  “So, I wanted to see if I could get your advice on a few things.” Stella leaned back and watched the people walking up and down K Street.

  “Oh, I’m sure I wanted to take my lunch break to help you out, FBI Beauty.”

  “Stan. Stop being such an ass.” Stella pulled in a deep breath. There weren’t that many seasoned attorneys that she knew and could trust. Stan warned her last year and she felt like she could trust him implicitly. “I got a death threat after my testimony and now I’m dealing with the FBI about the situation. I want to handle certain things my own way.”

  “Are you seriously asking me how to get around the FBI?” Stan leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “So hypothetically, I would get whoever I wanted to get to admit to me their involvement in the crime that I didn’t know about.”

  “Do you mean agree to wear a wire?” Stella’s eyes grew enormous. That was a huge gamble with Jamie.

  “What I’m saying is that I, Stan, would have my phone record someone saying they did something that I didn’t know about. I would be shocked to find out what they did and that there was no any evidence to support it. Then I would take that to the FBI in astonishment that he did what he did and offer to help in any way I could.”

  “Now, that does make sense.” Stella’s mind started running through scenarios where she could get Jamie to admit to what he did but not give away the fact she already knew he’d done it.

  “So hypothetically, you know who shot you,” Stan said, standing and pulling up his pants. He glanced at Stella before looking at their surroundings.

  “Hypothetically?” Stella looked across the street at a man with a camera, who was acting like he was taking pictures of everything but her. “Not at all. You need to leave. Now,” she said as she shot up and began walking briskly to the left toward her building.

  Fucking vultures. She didn’t look back, hoping she noticed the cameraman before he got a shot of her with Stan. She was trying to keep everyone away from this thing. Stan didn’t need any questions about her from the FBI.

  On Saturday morning, Millie, Stella, and Cooper were lounging out on the back porch drinking beer and reading. The October morning was too chilly for bathing suits, but they had on shorts and short sleeves. They were going to grill out in a few hours, but were just having an awesome lazy day.

  “Have you read this?” Stella asked, holding her Kindle up.

  “What?”

  “It’s so good. I mean, he’s so hot and they have really good sex. The two main characters have known each other since they were at a foster home together. Of course, they’re with different people and completely tortured. She goes to law school, but her life is shit and she doesn’t take the bar. That’s bullshit. Can you imagine going to law school and not taking the bar?”

  “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.

  Chapter Nine

  Curiosity

  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?”