Seamless

by Griffin, R. L.

  “When I wasn’t with George, Jesse and I were involved, but we weren’t dating. He’s turned into a very good friend of mine,” Stella cleared her throat, “and George’s,” she added as an afterthought.

  “George is okay with you being friends with someone you had sex with?”

  “Diane, I don’t mean to sound rude, but this is going off in a direction I wasn’t planning on talking about.”

  “Okay...okay.” Diane put her hands up in surrender. “Changing the subject just a little. It seems like you’re surrounded by men taking care of you. Feminists have called you ‘the anti-strong woman.’ What do you think about that?”

  “I like that name better than ‘FBI Beauty,’ that’s for sure.” Stella shrugged and let out a breath; she was getting tired of this interview. “I mean, I’m lucky. I have a best girlfriend, but I just happen to have more guy friends than girlfriends. I’m sort of guyish… I guess. I drink beer and cuss. I don’t do girly too much. So it just fits.”

  “You look pretty girly now.” Diane laughed and pointed at her tight dress and black tights. Stella had also borrowed Millie’s trendy black and grey necklace; she didn’t own anything like it herself. Diane looked down at Stella’s shoes, just noticing them. “Whoa, look at those shoes. I’m going to stay over here.”

  “Oh, well that’s the ‘girly’ thing I’ve discovered lately—I love heels. I got these especially for this interview and riding on the back of George’s motorcycle.”

  “Put your foot up so everyone can see these.” Diane pointed for the cameraman to get a close-up of Stella’s heel.

  Stella raised her right foot and looked at her black six-inch heel with silver spikes shooting out of the toes. She shook her foot a little bit. “You like them?”

  “I actually love them and love that you wore them here. Though I hope you don’t kick me.”

  “I won’t,” Stella laughed. “Unless I’m provoked, of course.”

  “Let’s talk about your tattoos. How many do you have?” Diane asked.

  “Three.”

  “Okay, everyone knows about your back. What else?”

  “I have ‘I’m the hero of this story’ on my back as well and ‘fighter’ on my ribcage,” Stella confirmed.

  “What’s the fascination with tattoos?” Diane asked.

  “I don’t know, but I love having my tattoos. The one that’s so big on my back is a regret that I have, but in a way it’s a reminder. I used it initially to warn people from talking to me or getting close to me. It worked for most people,” she smiled at the thought, glad it hadn’t worked on everyone. “It memorializes a place in time and reminds me how far I’ve come, you know?”

  “Do you plan on getting more?”

  “Have I planned my next one?” Stella asked. “No, but I usually get tattoos when I feel like I need them. They’re similar to jewelry to me, except they’re permanent. They’re beautiful and have deep meaning to the people that have them. I can see myself getting more.”

  “Well, I’m sure we’ll hear all about them when you do.” Diane laughed.

  “I hope not. I’m looking to get away from that sort of scrutiny,” Stella said sincerely. “I’m hoping that this interview answers all the questions people have for me and then they can get back to what’s important. Real news.”

  Diane cleared her throat. “So, changing the subject a bit… Stella, you woke up to a totally different life than before you were shot. What’s the one thing you wish you could change?”

  “I don’t know if I could just name one, Diane. Things have settled down a bit, but the media is always around our house. I couldn’t run with Cooper for a while; I’m just getting to where I can do that again. I have a constant pain in my upper torso from all the injuries I sustained from the shooting, but I’m slowly getting back to normal. I’m slowly getting my life back, but I’ve had to fight for it all. I’ll continue to fight because I just want normalcy.”

  “Everyone is touting your testimony as the reason the Defendant was convicted so quickly. Was it difficult to face your attacker?”

  “He was just one of three attackers and I’d much rather face the attacker than be like Trey Williams, Jeffery Riggins, and Peter Richardson, who died during the attack. It was a very difficult experience because I’m used to coming at it from a different perspective. Attorneys are the worst witnesses, I’ve been told.” Stella laughed. The three men that died during that explosion were always lingering in her mind; she never got closure because the funerals were held before she woke up. She could’ve easily died with them. Stella didn’t really know any of them, but felt a sort of kinship with them.

  “Let’s take a quick break.” Diane got up and walked over to the table for a bottle of water.

  Stella stood up and walked over to Millie. “Am I doing okay?”

  “You’re doing great,” Millie confirmed.

  After a quick bathroom break, Diane launched back into questions about her parents, law school and her job.

  “So your new job is dealing with public figures that have gotten themselves in some sort of trouble.”

  “Well, that’s not how I would characterize what I do.” Stella shifted in her seat and took a subtle breath. “I handle legal issues that arise when there’s excessive media attention and public scrutiny.”

  “Do you miss the General Counsel’s office?”

  “I really like what I do now and I have personal experience that helps our clients know that I can help. I’ve been where they are and know how to take steps to get them out of the frying pan.”

  “The frying pan?” Diane asked.

  “Being in the media, whether you’re a darling or demonized, is difficult. So I equate it to being in a frying pan. If you’re in there for a few seconds, it’s nice and warm; if you’re in there longer than that, you start to crack and burn.”

  “Which do you think you were? A darling or a demon?”

  “Both.” Stella took a sip of water. “I think initially people were happy I lived, you know? Then the media took every attempt to tear me down.”

  “Give me an example.”

  “This is going to sound so stupid when you look at what all has happened to me, but I made one C in law school and the media turned that into I almost failed out of law school. Wherever I went, they were there; it was pure madness for a while. I’m hoping to get back to a normal, very boring, life.”

  “Do you really think that will happen? I mean, you’ve chosen a job, in Washington, that lands you on the TV on a routine basis.”

  FUCK.

  The rest of the interview was just as excruciating. Stella felt as if she’d been physically beaten as she left the hotel suite. Millie put her arm over Stella’s shoulders and guided her to the elevators. Dumb and Dumber were standing outside the suite and followed them to the elevators.

  “You did really good, El.” Millie pushed the button for the elevator. “Really well. I’m proud of you.”

  Stella pulled her phone out of her purse and turned it on, listening to it chirp with a million different messages. They piled into the elevator and the two human machines took up over half of the car.

  “So do you two mammoths have names?” Stella asked.

  “I’m Savage,” the one with a tribal neck tattoo answered.

  “Razor,” the other one barked.

  Millie and Stella both burst out laughing. “Those aren’t names,” Millie snorted, practically dissolving into giggles. “Come on, your mama didn’t name you Razor.”

  “Joe?” Stella suggested. “Tom?”

  “Mark? Camden?” Millie asked through giggles. “Javier?”

  Razor and Savage didn’t flinch. Stella looked at herself, still a little shaken from the interview, then at Millie, who was trying to get a hold of herself, and finally to Dumb and Dumber. She shook her head. Thanks to George and Jesse and their uber-protectiveness, they were riding in the weirdest elevator that Stella had ever been on.

  She slumped against t
he glass wall. “Well, that was horrific,” she said to herself. The elevator announced something she couldn’t decipher. It sounded like a toad croaking out numbers.

  “What the fuck did the elevator just say?” She looked at Millie, who cocked her head to the side in a question.

  “No clue.”

  The announcement came again and the elevator stopped on their floor. Stella burst out laughing. “She’s slurring so much it sounds like a drunk lady announcing the floors,” she observed loudly and snorted.

  “That...is fantastic. Do you think there’s like, a lady somewhere that’s been drinking since nine am that calls the floors? Like a live-action elevator?” Millie doubled over with laughter. “I’m about to piss myself.”

  “I want that job,” Stella giggled as they made their way to their room. “Let’s get our shit and go get drunk. Razor, Savage, we’re going to get drunk. You’re more than welcome to guard our bodies at the bar.”

  “Oh, on $10 beers?” Millie held the door open for Stella.

  “Nope. On $20 martinis! To the bar!” she decreed as she grabbed her purse and headed for the door. “I’m never doing that again.”

  “What? Getting on the elevator?” Millie stopped abruptly behind Stella on their way out the door. “I’m not walking down 22 flights of stairs.”

  “No, another interview. That was fucking stressful.” She ran her hand through her hair and smoothed her dress.

  “You did really well, though, Stella. You’ll see.”

  “Whatever,” Stella walked toward the drunk elevators, “I just hope I can get ahead of all the coverage this time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Stella didn’t look at Millie. “A storm is brewing, I can feel it. I just hope I can get in front of it instead of getting caught in it this time.”

  Millie contemplated this while they waited for the elevator that would take them to the top floor to the restaurant/bar that rotated and would give them a 360 degree view of New York City.

  It’d been difficult for Stella to get Patrick by himself lately because Millie lived with him and she was in the dark about Jamie’s return to ATF. She needed to figure out a way that she and Patrick could talk without raising any Millie flags, and soon.

  Once they were settled in their table by the floor to ceiling windows, Millie let out a low sigh. They were just out of earshot of the meatheads, who were sitting two tables over, and it felt as liberating as if they were alone.

  Stella grinned. “What? Has today bored you? Are you over doing interviews with Diane Sawyer?”

  “I just don’t know how you can live like this, El. I mean, I’ve had my ass clenched since we got on the train to come here. Do you feel like this every day?”

  It was an honest question and Stella pondered her answer. She was tightly wound on a daily basis. When was the last time she felt utterly relaxed? On her way back to DC with George after testifying—she answered her own question. That hadn’t worked out well at the end. She hadn’t let her guard down for ten minutes since.

  “Pretty much.” Stella nodded as the server brought them a round of dirty martinis. “Here’s to the dirty martinis, may they go down easy and help us unclench.”

  “Gross, but okay,” Millie retorted. They clinked glasses and turned them up.

  Stella motioned the server back over. “Go ahead and get us another round of porn martinis.”

  “Porn?” the server asked.

  “I need it dirtier.” Stella laughed and Millie almost spit her drink out.

  “Okay, you got it.” The server smirked at them, nodded and walked back to the bar.

  Millie lifted her eyebrows at Stella. “Porn Martinis?”

  “Well, it fits, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah, I guess it does.” Millie sipped the last bit of vodka in her glass. “So… Diane Sawyer is more gorgeous in person than on TV, huh?”

  “Yeah, she is. She was as gentle as she could be… I guess.” She shrugged.

  “She totally could’ve been harder on you, but again, you’re so tragic, people want to take it easy on you,” Millie mocked.

  “I am so fucking tragic,” she agreed. “It’s hard to be this tragic, I’ll have you know, Ms. Rodriguez. Not everyone can maintain this tragic existence for as long as I have.” Stella really was kidding, even though what she said was true. Even if she were to allow herself time to think about the last year and a half, she would feel sorry for her circumstances.

  “Yep, you’re a fucking sad sack of a person,” Millie said and then looked out the window.

  Stella thanked the server as she set down their second round. “Keep ‘em coming, would you? I have a feeling we’ll be needing several more rounds.” Stella moved her hand to nudge Millie’s. “Just say whatever it is, Mil.”

  Millie had been stewing since they got on the train and Stella was just waiting for her to explode. She shook Stella’s hand off and turned away from the window. “I just can’t figure something out,” she said, looking at the remains of her vodka, examining the glass like it would give her the answers she needed. She lifted her big brown eyes, full of doubt, to meet Stella’s. “Did you and Patrick fuck?”

  It was Stella’s turn to spit her drink out and vodka sprayed all over Millie. Millie screamed and wiped her face with her napkin. Dumb and Dumber stood up instantly, ready to react, until they realized the girls were laughing.

  “Fuck!” Millie looked down at her wet shirt.

  “Sorry,” Stella apologized quickly. “Millie. NO! Why would you think that?” Stella had thought Millie would assume that, but hearing her say it out loud was ridiculous.

  “Because, for the life of me, I can’t figure out what happened between you two and neither one of you will tell me,” Millie explained in an eerily calm voice. “Nobody tells me anything. I mean, you tell Patrick and George everything, then Patrick tells Billy everything. It’s like you guys think I’m a fucking moron or something, which I’m not, by the way. I’m way smarter than you—I was in the top third of our law school class. I’m not just some girl you keep around so you can have someone to buy shoes with, I’m your best fucking friend and you better start acting like it or maybe I should get a new best friend that doesn’t get shot or blown up or called a whore constantly on Twitter...”

  Stella’s eyes widened at Millie’s outburst and she cleared her throat. “The reason why we haven’t told you is because we’ve been trying to protect you.” This was it. She had to tell her.

  “Protect me?” Millie was incredulous. “My two best friends can’t stand to be in a room together, but when I finally get you guys to see each other, he almost drools just looking at you.”

  “Oh, now you’re just being a jackass. No, he doesn’t. He’s been helping me, Millie.”

  “Do what?” Millie slammed her glass down on the table.

  “Fuck,” Stella muttered and turned to look for the server. Catching her eye, she waved and signaled two more. “We’re going to need another round before I can launch into this story.”

  “It must be bad.” Millie analyzed Stella’s face for any indication of what was to come; Stella’s face gave nothing away.

  “It is,” Stella agreed as the server sat the drinks in front of them. Stella clinked her glass with Millie and drank the entire martini like a shot. “Shit. Okay. You need to understand that, by telling you this, I’m putting you in danger and Patrick might fucking kill me.”

  “Fuck Patrick.”

  “Okay, wait. Let me start from the beginning. I’d been working for the General Counsel for the FBI for a couple of weeks when I was called into a conference with the ATF. There was some fuck up with an undercover operation and they wanted a little help from the FBI in the cleanup. As you know, they assigned me to go out to Montana to be a liaison for the DC office. Well, at that meeting, I was sitting with my supervising attorney when the ATF personnel came in with one of the undercover agents. It was Jamie.” Stella had been looking out the window at the New York sig
hts. When she paused, she looked at Millie, surprised to see her face blank.

  “Jamie who?”

  “Jamie. My dead fiancé who turned out not to be dead.”

  “Wait, what?!” Millie yelled. “Sorry, I’m just…”

  Stella paused, curious. “Who did Patrick tell you who the guy was who George beat up at your house, Mil?”

  Millie didn’t move, she just stared at Stella’s face. Then she shook her head. “He said that it was someone George used to know, that he’d seen the house on the news and pretended to know everyone, to work with Patrick. He said that he’d wanted to get pictures of your old house, get close to you. I didn’t ask any more questions; it scared the shit out of me…”

  “Shit, sorry. That day is a fucking blur and Patrick said he’d take care of everything,” Stella apologized. “I thought that meant he’d tell you. Fuck.” She shook her head.

  “So I let Jamie into our house?” Her voice was nothing but a squeak.

  “Oh, Millie,” she grabbed for Millie’s hand, “it’s not your fault. Jamie is an undercover agent and lies for a living.”

  Millie looked down at their hands and squeezed Stella’s.

  “Anyway, that guy who ‘works with Patrick’? It was my Jamie, who’s now going by the name of Jack Ryder.”

  Millie nodded, unblinking.

  “So, that was Jamie,” Stella said more forcefully.

  Millie’s eyes grew so large they usurped the other features of her face.

  “Yes, it’s true. I can’t make this shit up.” Stella took a sip of Millie’s drink that was still sitting on the table in between them. “So my entire year of drowning myself in alcohol and depression was for fucking nothing. It was all bullshit so that he could go undercover with the ATF.”

  “OH MY SHIT.” Millie’s eyes were still wide. She pulled her drink from Stella and downed the remaining martini.

  “Right?” Stella motioned for another drink. “So, I know I’m all over the place, but after I saw him in the conference room, I freaked. I went home and ran with Cooper. George found me lying in the park with Cooper. He picked me up and carried me to his house. I told him about Jamie because I was so shocked. I kind of wish I wouldn’t have told him, but I’m glad I did, too.” She took a break and wished she had another drink already. “I don’t know...”