Tension

by R. L. Griffin

“So, Jesse, what you got going on this week?” Stella asked, making small talk. Stella hated small talk.

  “Not much, just trying to find that fucker of an ex-fiancé of yours.”

  Stella could tell Jesse had a few too many. She stopped chewing and looked across the table at him. “What?”

  She noticed that George had stilled too, staring at Jesse. Jesse stared easily back at George, communicating something that Stella wasn’t privy to.

  “Yep, he’s no longer at the house he’d set up for you two. I’ve got people on it.” Jesse nodded at George again.

  “What do you mean; you’ve ‘got people on it’?” She looked from Jesse to George. “How did you even know where it was?”

  “I told him where the car was and then with your description we were able to narrow it down to a couple of houses through a private investigator out of Miami,” George said.

  “Wait…what?” Stella dropped her fork on the plate.

  George’s demeanor was calm, but redness was creeping up his neck. She couldn’t tell if it was from alcohol or anger. “Did you really expect me to just let that fucker go? He broke your nose and ruined your life.”

  “George and I will do what you couldn’t do, Stella,” Jesse said dismissively.

  “No… I don’t want you to take that on. Either of you.” Her voice was rising. What the hell were they thinking?

  “El, I’m not just going to sit back and do nothing when that guy is out there. He won’t go away. You’re naïve to think that.”

  “But—” she began.

  “But nothing, Stella, George is right. We’ve agreed.” Jesse took a bite of his Kobe beef steak. “You should try this; it tastes like steak-flavored butter.”

  “You guys don’t just get to make this decision.”

  “Oh, like you just got to make the decision?” George asked, taking Jesse up on his offer of a bite of his steak. “Oh shit, that is good.”

  “George,” Stella urged.

  He ignored her.

  The server materialized and asked how their meal was. They confirmed it was satisfactory. Jesse asked the server to take a picture of them with his phone. Stella sat, stunned.

  “Thanks, man.” Jesse typed on his phone. “Into the Twitterverse we go,” Jesse said with a laugh. “Stella, you look like someone just told you they were going to kill your ex-fiancé.”

  George and Jesse burst out laughing. Stella lost her appetite.

  The next day was full of calls to the police and the insurance company about her car. Her insurance company told her the car wasn’t worth anything and they’d total it because it was so old. There went three hours of her life. She’d gotten Greg to get an expedited police report for her stolen car since she was trying to leave for DC, but she’d have to wait until the next day. Fucking insurance company. They were totaling her car, but they still needed the police report.

  George was on the back porch fielding calls from the AP and Finnegan’s. Her dad was more civil after she’d told him the partial truth. Something was off, though; she didn’t know if it was because he knew she hadn’t been truly honest about the entire story or if he was worried. The story she told him about the past weekend was that someone slipped drugs into her drink while she was at the bar with Sara. She’d woken up in Key West, turned her locator on and Greg and George came to get her. He’d been furious and threatened to call the police himself. She’d been semi-convincing when she told him that Greg was handling all the legal implications and she didn’t want the story getting out, so they had to be careful. He’d relented and just shook his head in total disbelief, but now he was more withdrawn than ever.

  “Mom?” Stella called from the kitchen table where she’d just been on the phone with the insurance adjuster.

  “Yes?” her mother yelled from somewhere upstairs.

  “Let’s go shopping!”

  Her mom appeared out of nowhere. “Sure. I’m always up for shopping.”

  “Let me go get my stuff,” Stella said and walked up to her room. She pulled the leather bag out from under her bed and put a couple of stacks of money in her purse. Stella smiled as she walked downstairs. I’m going to think “fuck you” every time I spend a dollar of this money. Making her way to the back porch, she leaned outside and mouthed to George, “going shopping.”

  He waved and she and her mom took off for some serious retail therapy.

  They made the long drive back to Old Town with Cooper in her mom’s Mercedes. Her mom made them turn in the rental and told her she could have it and then informed her dad that he’d just have to buy her a new car. The car was small and Cooper seemed to take up the backseat and half of the front too. George worked most of the way on his laptop, typing out his latest assignment, some sort of legislation on gun rights.

  Stella scratched the bandage under her right arm. She reached over and touched George’s hand; he stopped typing.

  “What?”

  “I and love and you.” She smiled and brought his hand to her mouth, pulling one of his fingers into her mouth. She sucked his finger and watched out of the corner of her eye for his reaction.

  Dimples appeared, then hunger appeared in his eyes. “So not fair,” he said, his voice low and husky.

  “So not trying to be fair,” she retorted.

  “How’s your side feel?”

  “Fine, the bandage is scratchy.”

  Stella had pulled him into a tattoo parlor on the night of debauchery in Key West. Now she had “fighter” in red script on her side boob under her right arm. She’d asked him if he wanted one. He’d declined. His heart tattoo with the infinity sign through it said all he needed to say for now.

  Stella started her new job, about a week after they got back from Key West, with a law firm in DC that specialized in media sensational cases. Their clients were athletes, politicians and musicians. She’d been working her ass off for several weeks learning the ropes, which included picking up the trash the partners left everywhere. Literally. At midnight, she finally left the conference room, where she and three partners had been working on a case that had just come in involving a politician sending pictures of his dick to two of his staff members. One of them sold it to several of the major networks, which were now playing the story every fifteen minutes. The partners were trying to come up with the appropriate strategy for the douchebag.

  “I had to clean up their trash today, Dad.” Stella called him on the way home, a little shell-shocked. “Is this why I went to law school? To pick up other people’s trash?”

  Her dad laughed heartily. “Then get paid for picking up their trash. You’re not above picking up trash; pick up their trash and take their money.”

  “Well, when you put it like that…I can definitely do that.” She smiled, turning the corner onto George’s street.

  She pulled into the garage. When she got to the main level, she put her bags down and took her heels off. She threw her suit jacket on the floor next to her bags and walked into the kitchen. She was starving; it was after midnight and she hadn’t eaten yet. She definitely needed a drink. Finding a pinot noir that she liked, she opened the bottle and poured half of it into a wine glass.

  “Tough day, El?”

  She jumped at the sound and almost spilled her drink. “Shit, George. You scared me.”

  George was wearing boxers, his hair sticking straight up. Cooper followed him down the stairs and nudged her hand with his head.

  She sighed; she’d woken them up. “I’m sorry for waking you guys up.”

  “It’s okay. If you didn’t, I wouldn’t have seen you.” He moved to the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her. “Pour me one of those?”

  She petted Cooper’s head with one hand, letting herself relax into his silky fur. “Sure.” Stella separated herself from him and walked back to the counter. She pulled another glass out of the cabinet and poured him a healthy glass.

  “When will your hours get better?” George asked.

  “I’m not sure the
y will. The practice specializes in media emergencies. It seems there’s always an emergency.”

  “I miss you.” George nuzzled her neck and she handed him the glass.

  “I miss you too, babe.” She sat on the couch and put her feet up.

  “So…I’ve got to watch Finn Saturday night. She’s going to spend the night. I hope that’s okay.”

  Stella took a long pull of wine, letting it warm up her insides. “Sure, it’s your house.”

  Walking over to where she was sitting, he nudged her legs down and sat down next to her. “When are you going to get it? This is our house.”

  “No, its not, George. None of my things are here. It’s your house and that’s fine. I should probably get my own place.” Stella didn’t know why she was picking this fight. She was exhausted and frustrated about her job, but she knew she shouldn’t take it out on him.

  “Not a fucking chance,” George retorted through clenched teeth.

  Stella blew out a breath. “I’m imposing. I don’t like it. I want my own things and my own taste.” She was pulling at straws. George had great taste and there wasn’t anything Stella intended on changing.

  “Hire a decorator and do what you will,” George said with a flourish. “Pay half the mortgage. What else do you need?”

  Stella sat her wine on the coffee table. “I’m sorry,” she whined and slumped into the couch. “Work is stressful, I’m exhausted. I haven’t been able to run or workout in, like, three weeks. I don’t get to see you enough and…”

  George pulled her onto his lap. “This is nothing, Love.”

  Saturday afternoon, Kara dropped Finn off around 4:00. George and Stella had all sorts of activities planned, but Finn wanted to take Cooper over to the dog park and then walk to Pop’s for ice cream. Stella was glad the photographers were long gone. They were eating their ice cream when George got a call about an emergency at the bar and he had to go. Stella and Finn finished their ice cream outside and walked Cooper back to the house.

  As they sat on the couch, Finn ran her hands through Stella’s hair. “I like your other hair better.”

  “I think I do, too.” When she got back from Atlanta, she’d cut off over seventeen inches of her raven hair. She donated the hair to Locks of Love, which made her feel a little bit better, but she was regretting the impulse. The cut made her look older, her features sharper; it felt like her hair was a security blanket all this time, she felt like a different person without it.

  “It’ll grow back, you know,” Finn said.

  “Oh, good.” Stella smiled. “So, how about we eat popcorn for dinner and watch Tangled? I got it special for you.”

  Finn grinned up at Stella. “You got it special for me, Ewwa?”

  “Yep, just for you.”

  George returned home from the bar after 11:00 that night. He walked into the den and saw Stella asleep on the couch with Finn spread across her. Finn was wearing Stella’s blond wig and Stella was wearing her red one. There was popcorn all over the place and the television was still on. Cooper was asleep on the floor right next to them; he opened one eye at George. George’s heart clenched at the sight. How he loved this woman. He pulled out a blanket and draped it over them both.

  The scene reminded him how much he wanted a family; he immediately pushed the thought away. If he was staying with Stella, that wasn’t possible and he was okay with it. He loved her more than he could’ve ever imagined loving someone. Even with all the shit they’d been through, he couldn’t fathom his life without her.

  Jesse had called while he was at the bar and reported he had eyes on Jamie. He was still in Florida, but on the move. George was done losing her and he was working on a plan to make sure he never lost her again because of that prick. Stella was his.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Lost and Found

  Stella pushed herself back from her desk and made her way to the lobby. Typically, she worked through lunch, but today she was going out. Stella never tired of the lobby; it was opulent and showy, perfect for their pretentious clients. She couldn’t believe she worked at this prestigious firm in DC. She liked her job, but hated the hours. Just like all lawyers.

  She smiled at the receptionist on her way out. “Brenda, I’m headed out for an appointment. You can send calls to my cell, but I’ll be unavailable for about an hour.”

  “Sure thing, Stella.” The middle-aged woman nodded and went back to admiring her manicure. Brenda had been very nice to Stella since she started, but Stella was curious about her. Brenda’s blonde, shoulder-length bob was professional and trendy, but her clothes looked too expensive for her salary as a receptionist.

  She took the elevator down to the first floor of the building that opened to K Street. As she exited the building, she took a left and walked a few blocks to her new psychiatrist’s office. She’d gotten her name from Patrick, who’d gotten it from someone at ATF. Undoubtedly, many agents needed counseling after undercover work and this psychiatrist was extremely discreet. She’d never been to a psychiatrist, so she really didn’t know what to expect.

  Stella stood in front of the door to the office and took a deep breath, counted to ten, and pushed it open to reveal a very ordinary doctor’s office lobby. Huh. She walked up to the front desk. The woman behind the desk smiled at her and slid the glass over so they could talk.

  “Ms. Murphy?” The woman looked very comforting, like a mother. She slid a clipboard toward Stella. “You’ll need to fill this out. I’ll buzz you through and show you where you’ll wait.”

  “Okay,” Stella said, taking the clipboard and walking over to the door that led from the empty waiting area. She followed the receptionist through the door and to one of many rooms on her left.

  “Fill those out while you wait and Denise will be with you soon.” She turned to walk back to her desk and then turned around. “If you need anything, just press that button right there and I’ll come to help you. We don’t allow patients to walk freely around the office.”

  Stella sat down and thought how smart it was to have a psychiatrist who was so discreet. DC was a town where many of the people needed therapy, but they would be in political trouble if the public found out about their visits. She’d just finished her paperwork when a tall woman, around fifty with white hair in a stylish chin-length cut and turquoise glasses, came in the area.

  “I’m Denise.” She reached out with an extended hand.

  Stella stood. “Stella Murphy.”

  “Let’s head on back.” Denise led Stella down the hall to a room with three chairs and a love seat. Denise sat in the chair that had a small side table to its left. The table had a notepad, pen, and a mug of something. “Please have a seat.”

  When Stella continued to stand there in the entrance of the room, Denise chuckled. “Anywhere you’d like, Ms. Murphy.”

  She walked with apprehension over to the chair directly across from Denise. It was a leather wingback chair and didn’t look comfortable, but she had a feeling this session would be excruciating no matter where she sat. Denise had warm brown eyes and a calm demeanor. Stella urged herself to calm down.

  “So, Ms. Murphy, why are you here?” Denise asked.

  “Um, would you mind calling me Stella?”

  “Sure, Stella.”

  “I have a couple of questions before we start,” Stella said.

  “Okay.” Denise picked mug and took a tentative sip.

  “I need complete confidentiality. I know that there’s privilege that can only be breached if you believe I would cause immediate harm to another individual. Like, I tell you I’m going to kill someone.”

  “That’s correct. You’ve done your homework.” Denise smiled and set down her mug.

  “I’m a lawyer. We learned about different privileges in the context of the law, but I want to make sure that it’s correct for you. I just want to make sure you can’t or won’t tell anyone what I tell you.”

  “Stella, my business is listening to the deepest, darkest fears
of people who can’t have deep, dark fears. The only obligation I have is if I feel you will walk out of my office and kill someone, then I must report you. Other than that, your secrets are safe here. You are safe here.”

  “Okay.” Stella didn’t know how much of her story she was going to share, but it was a good start.

  “So, Stella what brought you here today?”

  “My boyfriend said I had to seek counseling.”

  “Your boyfriend gave you an ultimatum. How did that make you feel?”

  “Relieved,” Stella answered honestly.

  “Relieved?” Denise asked without any facial expression.

  “Yes,” Stella confirmed.

  “Why?”

  “Because I thought he was going to leave me.” Stella tucked her hair behind her ear; it fell forward again.

  “Why would he leave you?”

  “Because I’m messed up.”

  “Messed up how?”

  “Wow,” Stella said. “That answer is too long for one session. Short story. I lied to him and things have happened to me that have…messed me up. Instead of dumping me, like he should have, he gave me another chance.”

  “Why did you lie to him?”

  “Another really good question that will take about ten hours to answer.” Stella looked behind Denise at all the books on the bookcase; it eased some of her tension. “I…Okay. I really don’t understand why George, my boyfriend, is with me. I used to be pretty. Now I’m not. I have so much baggage I should come with my own storage unit. And I don’t think I’m a good person. George is a good person and I just keep waiting for him to realize that he doesn’t know me and when he gets to know me, I know he’ll leave me.”

  “Okay, let’s start easy. You used to be pretty, but now you aren’t. Why would you say that?”

  “I got shot about a year ago and I have the ugliest scars. I used to just be ugly on the inside, but now my outside matches the inside,” she said, examining her hands. She wasn’t ashamed, she hadn’t asked for this, and she sure as hell wasn’t looking for pity.