Tension

by R. L. Griffin

  “Unless you want me to vomit. I think the movement alone would send me over the edge.”

  “I can wait until later today.” He sighed and tried to convince himself to calm down; picturing Stella vomiting on him sort of worked. He sat up slowly and put both of his feet on the ground. His phone dinged a text. And then another. They were checking out today, he wondered what time it was.

  “Make it stop,” groaned Stella, rolling over and putting a pillow over her head.

  He slapped her ass and walked over to the table to pick up his phone. It was a text from Patrick.

  you guys have fun in Key West?

  George cocked his head to the side. He hadn’t told anyone where he was going.

  what

  Patrick replied immediately.

  you and el are all over the tv and internet dude

  Another texted beeped

  Nice dance moves

  George scrolled down to see several missed calls and texts. It was 10:00 am; they were supposed to check out in an hour. He called and requested a late check out. As he hung up, he turned to the bed. Stella hadn’t moved. Her body was completely exposed and gorgeous; she had the bandage on under her right breast and was still wearing those heels. He wanted to do everything except check out of this room. Stop thinking; we have to get moving.

  He patted her ass. “I’m going to get us breakfast. Get up and get in the shower, we’re supposed to check out soon.”

  Stella grunted in response.

  George left the hotel and walked up Duval Street until he could slip into a fast food place and order breakfast. While walking, he called Patrick.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Dude, y’all are so busted.” Patrick sounded amused.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Stella and you on video, partially clothed, dancing, and Stella looks like you beat the shit out of her. Millie is freaking out on all the twitters out there.”

  Oh shit. George sat down on a bench to process. “The tweets?”

  “So...” Patrick said into the phone, ignoring George’s correction.

  “It’s a long story.” George sighed.

  “One that includes Stella getting drunk and dragged out of a bar in Atlanta and then being seen beaten up and drunk with you in Key West?”

  “Ugh.” George ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sure she was planning on telling you about this, but Jamie kidnapped her from the bar in Atlanta. Greg, her attorney, Jesse, and I came here to find her.”

  Silence.

  “Um, so she had a locator on and we found her on one of the Keys. She was able to get away and steal his boat. We stayed in Key West to recuperate and relax.”

  “Fuck. El… She’s okay, though… He dead?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” Patrick asked.

  “We’ll fill you in when we get home. We’re leaving here today and will go through Atlanta first. We’ve got to smooth some things over with her parents and pick up Cooper. Then we’re headed back to Virginia.”

  “Y’all need anything?”

  “Not right now, but I’m assuming the media is going to be all over us again?”

  “Oh yeah, I’m mean, it’s insane. #georgebeatsstellasass. If I didn’t know y’all have been drunk for the past 15 hours, I’d wonder how you missed it.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” George said exasperated, standing back up again.

  “She okay?”

  “Surprisingly, yes. I mean, she’s still fucked up, but I don’t think she’s any more fucked up than she was.”

  Patrick chuckled. “The video is hilarious, man.”

  “Great,” George muttered as he opened the door to the restaurant.

  “I’ll send it to you so you can see it. I mean, you need help.”

  “Fuck you, Patrick,” George laughed and hung up.

  Fuck. It’s one thing after another. He wondered if they’d ever be able to just live, be boring, and have sex three times a day like he wanted.

  “George...” Stella rolled over and ran her hand down his chest. She’d fallen back asleep after he left to get breakfast and he’d just gotten back in bed to wake her up. “Too much fun last night…”

  “Too much,” he agreed.

  “Not too smart of us to drink so much the night before having to drive, like, fifteen hours.” Stella sat up, the sheet falling off her naked body.

  “Well, maybe we’ll just drive for a little bit and then stop somewhere and do the rest tomorrow.”

  “Yes, that sounds perfect,” she murmured as she kissed his neck.

  He moved toward her, forcing her to lie on the bed and flipped her over, pinning her down. “You had fun last night, didn’t you?” George fingered the bandage on her new tattoo.

  “When? At the bar or back here?” she teased.

  “Either.” George had both of her arms pinned above her head with one hand.

  “Both.” She giggled as she licked his earlobe and down his neck.

  “I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time.”

  “I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”

  “We’ll have to work on keeping you that way, then.” He pulled her lower lip into his mouth.

  When they were finished, they sat at the table and ate the now cold breakfast George bought for them. Stella shoved her dirty clothes in the Banana Republic bag and put her new clothes back on.

  “You know you forgot to buy me underwear, right?” she asked George, who was pulling his clothes on, too.

  “No, I didn’t,” George answered.

  “Oh, where are they?” she asked, looking around.

  George sat on the bed and pulled on his tennis shoes. “I said I didn’t forget, not that I bought you underwear and lost it.”

  “You dirty fucker...” Stella smiled as she pulled her boots over her new jeans.

  “You like it.” He smirked. He definitely liked it. There was something amazing about knowing she was commando.

  Stella walked over to the bed where George was sitting and straddled him. George grabbed her ass and pulled her close.

  “Yes, I do,” she answered and looked him in the eyes.

  George’s phone rang. He looked over to where it was and then turned back to Stella, moving his hands to her cheeks and his face down to hers. Then her phone started ringing. Foiled.

  “Shit, who’s blowing us up?”

  They both moved to their phones. Patrick had sent George THE video and Greg was calling Stella.

  She groaned. “Hello?”

  “You’ve been spotted. Smart move making out and getting drunk with your boyfriend in Key West. There were naked people surrounding you and your half naked boyfriend. Now we need to deal with rumors of you being an alcoholic. Stella. Get your ass back home.”

  “Okay,” she answered, puzzled, and hung up.

  George was looking at her with a smirk. “You want to see the video?”

  “What video?” Stella asked.

  George burst out laughing. “You have to...”

  He pressed play on his phone and she watched a very drunk George and Stella dancing, both without shirts, at a bar she didn’t even remember visiting last night. Her face was bruised and swollen, but it was clearly her. George even bent over, allowing her to slap his ass several times to the roar of the crowd.

  “Why are our shirts off? Why are there naked people at that bar?” she asked laughing.

  “Look at my moves. I’m awesome,” George said. “There’s already over 1000 hits on YouTube.”

  Stella was almost consumed by hysterics. “Well, at least we’re having fun, right? All the other media of me is horrible; this is fun.” She picked up her bag. “What’s my story about my face?”

  “You fell?”

  “While intoxicated, of course, since I’m an alcoholic,” she filled in.

  “Running from paparazzi...” George laughed, grabbing his bag and the leather duffel, quickly looking over the room to make sure they wer
en’t leaving anything.

  “And rabid dogs.”

  “And rabid dogs,” George agreed.

  They walked out of the room and shut the door, laughing.

  George and Stella drove from Key West to Orlando, fielding phone calls from friends and family the entire time. Stella kept her hat from the marina pub on the entire way and was fidgety when they checked into the Grand Bohemian Hotel. All the relief she felt over the last couple of days with George was beginning to disappear. The story they planned to use turned to shit after everyone saw her with George, drunk, in Key West. They were headed back to reality, back to having to deal with all the same shit.

  While they were checking in, George grabbed her hand. He could see she was getting that look again, the ‘shutting down’ look. He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Don’t do this. We’re going to be good.”

  “You always know the right thing to say.” Stella smiled without it reaching her eyes.

  George slapped her ass and said, “Let’s get to the room so I can have my way with you.”

  She pulled out cash from her duffel bag and put it on the counter of the hotel. George looked at her and smiled, acknowledging they both knew where the money came from.

  When they got to the room, George ordered room service and Stella got into the shower to wash off the car ride. She was looking forward to the luxury of the hotel room and taking advantage of having George all to herself for hours. And resting to get over the remains of her hangover.

  When she emerged from the shower, George was laying on the bed, naked, texting someone furiously. “Okay… that’s fantastic. Really sexy, the naked texting, George.” Stella commented as she hopped on the bed and started to investigate all of his nakedness.

  George threw his phone down on the bed and peeled off her towel, going for the cute divot of her abdomen. They heard a knock on the door and startled away from each other.

  She giggled. “You going to get that? Must be the food, right? I hope you ordered lots, I’m starving.”

  George pushed himself off the bed and pulled on his jeans. He opened the door and was met by flashbulbs. Slamming the door shut, he stood there and stared at the back of the door. “Are you for real?!” he yelled.

  She pulled a plush hotel robe on and tied it closed. “At least you put your pants on,” she said, letting out the loudest laugh he’d ever heard. “Sort of…” She pointed to his open fly.

  He looked down. “Shit. That picture is going to be everywhere.” He started laughing, too.

  “#georgesbigcock,” Stella snorted.

  “#georgemanscapes,” George joined in.

  “#stellasaluckyluckylady!”

  George joined her on the bed and they stayed there, laughing and rolling around hashtagging each other until they heard another knock.

  “Okay, let me show you how to work this little peephole,” she mocked. She looked through the hole and saw it really was their food. She opened the door with a flourish, letting the server into the room. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” The server rolled the cart into the room.

  George popped up from the bed and dug into his pocket for a tip. “Hey man, who found out we were here?” he asked, throwing down a few bucks.

  The guy just shook his head. George threw a twenty down on the tray.

  “The clerk that checked y’all in tweeted y’all were here.”

  “Fuck!” George blew out a breath.

  “It’ll die down again,” Stella said, linking her arm through his. “Remember, it was this bad initially when I got out of the hospital. We’ll just have to slug through it.”

  “You sure are dealing with this well,” George commented. He nodded at the server as he shut their hotel door.

  “What else are we going to do?”

  “Eat and have sex,” George said, pulling the lids off the plates of food he’d ordered.

  “Or have sex and eat...” Stella smiled and untied her robe.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  You Said “Fuck”

  They were almost through Macon, Georgia, only an hour and a half from Atlanta, and Stella had to stop for coffee. She pulled off one of the exits and parked at a Dunkin Donuts.

  “You want anything?” Stella asked before she opened the car door.

  “I’m good,” George said.

  Stella picked up her step as she crossed the parking lot; it was cold in Georgia right now. She didn’t have a coat and appreciated the warmth when she opened the door. She salivated at the smell of coffee.

  She used their bathroom and ordered the largest coffee on the menu. As she was approaching the car, she heard George yell, “he’s gone?!” and watched him slam his fist into the dash. His actions stopped her in her tracks; she’d never seen his temper. Something must be wrong. Hurrying over to the driver’s side of the car, she peered in and then opened the door.

  “Everything okay?” she asked, sliding into the car.

  “Yeah. Why?” George did nothing to hide the anger in his voice.

  “Umm...” She was usually the cantankerous one in their relationship; she was unsure how to handle a hot-tempered George. Sex was her first guess, but that wasn’t really doable in the parking lot.

  “It’s nothing,” he muttered and starting texting.

  Stella shrugged; she assumed it was something to do with Finnegan’s, turned up the music, and headed toward Atlanta.

  They were driving on I-285 when Stan called her.

  “I know, I know,” she said instead of hello. She smiled at his smartass reply. Stella told him she would be submitting her letter of resignation as soon as she got back to town, which would be in a few days. While she was on the phone, she noticed George texting someone nonstop. She and Stan talked for a few minutes, and then she hung up and put the phone in the console of the rental car. “Who are you texting?” she asked.

  “Jesse,” George said, squinting at the sun in his eye. “Is traffic always this bad here?” he asked, taking in the parking lot that was I-285.

  “Pretty much.” Stella nodded. “Make sure J is still on for tonight at 7:00 at Chops.”

  “He’s meeting us there,” George confirmed, looking down at his phone again.

  “Are y’all like best friends now?” Stella asked, puzzled.

  “You bet,” George said shortly, still not looking at her.

  “What’s going on?” Stella hit his arm, making him mess up his text.

  “Nothing.” George looked guilty about something.

  “You’re being weird.” She turned up the volume on Ben Harper.

  When they pulled into Stella’s parents’ driveway, they were sitting on the porch drinking cocktails. Stella hesitated opening the door; her parents had torn her a new one when she called to tell them what happened with her phone. She knew her dad didn’t buy it.

  George got out and grabbed his duffel bag from the back seat. “Hey!” he called, waving as he walked up the sidewalk to the front porch.

  Her mother put on her fake smile and waved back. “Hi, George, let me show you your room and get you a drink.” She took his arm at the elbow and escorted him through the door.

  Stella’s head was down as she walked up the stairs to the porch. Lifting her eyes slowly, she watched her father take a sip of his drink. It was scotch; he always drank scotch in the early evening.

  “What happened?” he asked, leaning back against the chair. “Really.”

  “What do you mean?” she stuttered.

  “Quit fucking around, Stella.”

  Stella flinched. Her dad cussed, but he’d never said “fuck” in front of her before. And she couldn’t exactly tell him the truth…

  “You scared the shit out of your mom and me. If you were twelve, I’d bend you over my knee and beat your ass.”

  Stella leaned against the railing of the porch. “Dad... I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can and you will.” He took another sip of his scotch. “And I’ll beat your boyfriend’s ass if he did that
to your face.”

  Stella shook her head. “I can’t tell you.” She touched her nose with her finger tips. “I fell.” She’d never lied so absurdly to her dad.

  “You’re lying and not even well. Why?”

  “Because I’m protecting myself and you,” she answered as steadily as she could.

  “That’s not the way it works, Stella. I’m your daddy, I protect you.” He rose from his chair, drink in hand, and moved toward her. “Now, sit down. We’re going to stay out here until you tell me the truth.”

  She did. Sort of.

  As Stella drove George down Peachtree Street, she pointed out all the famous areas of Buckhead on their way to dinner at Chops Lobster Bar. George had never been to Atlanta; part of her wanted to show him everything, but there wasn’t time. She settled for Buckhead and Chops, one of her favorite steakhouses in Atlanta. She pulled into the driveway and offered the keys of her mother’s Mercedes to the valet. Grabbing George’s hand, she led him up the stairs to the restaurant. She borrowed some of her mother’s five inch heels and was wearing a body hugging sweater dress. If people were going to be taking pictures, maybe her body would distract from the bruises still on her face. She’d bought George a new outfit for tonight; the clothes he’d brought to Key West wouldn’t fit the business casual dress code.

  “Murphy,” she announced to the hostess.

  “Oh, yes, Ms. Murphy. Mr. McIntyre is already here. We put you in a secluded area in the back. Follow me.”

  Stella and George followed the hostess to a back booth where Jesse was sitting, already with a cocktail. He rose when he saw them and Stella hugged him fiercely. She didn’t go to the doctor despite her parents’ protests. Everything was just going to have to heal on its own; her bruises were more yellow and green now anyway, and not nearly as grotesque to look at. George and Jesse shook hands and they all sat.

  The servers magically appeared as soon as they sat down and got their orders. When the server presented Stella with her lobster, her mouth watered. They were having as good a time as they could, given recent events, and the drinks flowed throughout dinner.