Barring Complications

by Blythe Rippon

  If anything, the lump in Genevieve’s throat was bigger now than when Wallace had told her about the stalker. But her heartbeat had found its normal rhythm again, and her fear was being pushed out by a fierce urge to protect Tori. “You’re going to be okay,” she said.

  “I know,” Tori said softly.

  Genevieve slid her hand down Tori’s arm and entwined their fingers. It was the only way she could keep from stroking Tori’s face, or stop her own fingers from shaking. The contact grounded both of them, and their breathing slowed. Tori’s eyes remained closed, and Genevieve watched her for the rest of the ride, memorizing every detail of her face.

  * * *

  Genevieve thought the questions could have waited. The doctor had only just stopped prodding Victoria and pronounced her fine. But Pollard seemed adamant, and she knew she was going to lose this argument. She stood by the window of Tori’s hospital room, watching the headlights flicker on the streets below George Washington Hospital. She didn’t want Tori to see the tears in her eyes while she listened.

  “He was already in the house when I got home. I dropped my purse, phone, and keys by the door, like I always do. I went to the kitchen, got a glass of water, and headed upstairs to my bedroom. He must have been hiding someplace downstairs. I was in my closet, pulling out my exercise clothes, when I heard a crash downstairs. I think he broke my cell phone. By the time I got out of the closet and across my room, he was there. He punched me, and I spun around into my nightstand. I think I broke the lamp that was on the table. He grabbed me and spun me back, and I was able to pick up the phone on the nightstand while he did it. He was about to punch me again, and I managed to hit his head with the phone. He fell, and I dialed 911. I just dropped the phone and kept the line open, and ran downstairs. I honestly had no idea what to do. I looked around for some kind of weapon for a minute, and then decided that the best thing to do would be to get out of the house. So I ran into the garage and got in my car. But of course my keys were inside. I sat there cursing myself for a minute, trying to figure out if I should go back inside or what. I got out of the car and stood right by the door to the house, so that if he came out, I might be able to sneak back inside behind him and lock him out. But then I decided that was a horribly stupid plan, since I was wearing noisy heels and I’m not Buffy. Then, sirens. It didn’t take you all very long.”

  Genevieve could hear Pollard writing in the silence that ensued. Still studying the traffic outside the window, she selected a single car and followed it with her eyes. She made a bet about whether it would go straight or turn at the upcoming stoplight. Anything, anything to think about besides Tori being hit, Tori frantically searching for some way to defend herself, Tori flattened against the wall of the garage.

  Pollard finished his notes and said, “When the 911 operator picked up the phone, she heard you yell ‘fuck,’ followed by some faint male groaning. Considering the address of the call, that was all she needed to hear. She called the US Marshals, and they contacted my office. Colorful language, by the way. And that was some hit with the telephone. He was still on your bedroom floor when the federal agents got there.”

  In the window reflection, Genevieve could see Tori smile wanly. “It’s a big, heavy phone. Vintage. Red. I always thought having a landline would prove useful.”

  “That’s funny,” Pollard said. Genevieve had no idea if he meant it. “We’re questioning him right now. We’ll keep you posted as our investigation proceeds.”

  Genevieve wiped a tear away, squared her shoulders, and turned around. She watched as Pollard put the notebook in his chest pocket and cleared his throat. “Feel better, Madam Justice. We’re leaving a car and driver outside for you, whenever you’re ready to leave. We’ll be at your house for a while, investigating.” His tone was gentle, and for the first time since Genevieve had met him, he gave something away. He cared.

  Wallace entered as Pollard left. He pulled up a chair next to Tori’s bed and took her hand in his. “Do you need anything?”

  As they spoke to each other, Genevieve watched them with interest and a little sadness. There was so much about Tori’s life that she had missed. There were many people who cared about her—Genevieve was neither special nor unique in wanting to protect her. Wallace was holding her hand, just like she had in the ambulance. He was the one who knew Tori’s phone number. Where she lived. That she’d been stalked and harassed.

  She was working on swallowing her self-pity when Dr. Sonya Lukin breezed into the room.

  “Victoria! What the hell happened? I saw you on the board.” She moved a chair next to Wallace’s and laid a hand on Tori’s leg.

  “Sonya. We have to stop meeting like this,” Tori said, and they laughed together.

  Genevieve felt exhausted, and she hadn’t really done anything.

  She sat down in a chair by the window while Tori recounted her story to a new audience. Wallace was mostly silent, but Sonya interjected outraged comments from time to time. Genevieve imagined how different the dynamics of the room would be if she were dating Tori. If she could take charge of the situation and be the one holding Tori’s hand, telling everyone thank you, please leave now, Tori needs her rest. And then be alone with her.

  Maybe she should go. Tori didn’t need anything that the other people in the room couldn’t provide. She was just thinking about taking a cab back to the Harbour Club to get her car when the doctor returned. He handed Tori a bottle of Vicodin for the pain, pronounced her okay to go home, and left again.

  “Do you really want to be in that house right now?” Sonya asked.

  Genevieve kicked herself for not thinking of that, and was startled when Tori turned expectant eyes to her. Standing up, she said, “Tori’s staying with me tonight.”

  Everyone seemed to accept this as natural. Small victories, she thought.

  Wallace returned his chair to its spot by the door and exchanged business cards with Sonya. He handed Genevieve her gym bag and purse. “I put a card with my phone number in there. Please call if she needs anything.”

  “Thanks, Wallace. You’ve been really great.” She was about to shake his hand when he gave her a hug. She thought she saw him wink at her as he left.

  Sonya and Tori were saying something about badminton, and then Sonya kissed Tori’s forehead before walking over to kiss Genevieve on the cheek. “Check in with us tomorrow, please,” she told Tori, and left the room.

  Tori eased into a sitting position and was about to stand when Genevieve stopped her.

  “Take my loafers. You can’t possibly want to wear those heels right now.” She knelt down and slid the stilettos off of Tori’s feet.

  “I always did like wearing your shoes,” Tori said.

  They stood and Genevieve wrapped her arm around Tori, who leaned into her. Genevieve led them out of the hospital.

  Chapter Five

  Victoria

  The Vicodin she had taken at the hospital had worn off and her cheek throbbed. But the red L-shaped couch in Genevieve’s living room was incredibly comfortable, and Victoria thought she could fall asleep any minute if it weren’t for her stomachache. She was very hungry, but the thought of food made her queasy. Somehow she was too hungry to eat.

  And that wasn’t her only difficulty. Genevieve was making her dizzy with her inability to sit still. Clearly her anxiety from earlier in the evening had turned into indignant anger.

  She made another pass across the living room carpet. “It’s so easy for them to get to you!”

  “Genevieve,” Victoria said gently. “It’s not as if I’m a big celebrity. Congressmen have higher profiles than I do. I don’t have the kind of job that requires extreme security measures.”

  “You do! That’s the point!”

  “He didn’t hurt me—not really, anyway. And they’ve got him now. It’s okay.” Victoria was surprised to find she meant it. She’d lived with so much fear for so long that she wasn’t about to start being afraid of her own home and independence. She put out
her hand and managed to grab Genevieve’s arm, halting her pacing. “It’s actually one of the reasons we refuse to allow cameras into the Court. We pretty much stay under the radar. I could walk down the street of any city in America and I guarantee less than one percent of the population would recognize me.”

  Genevieve brushed her aside and marched to the fireplace. “I’m starting a petition. We’re going to demand Secret Service protection for justices.”

  Victoria watched in amusement as Genevieve continued pacing. “I wouldn’t want it, even if they offered it. The Court remains one of the few safe places in this country where people can make a difference and not sacrifice their anonymity. I start walking around with Secret Service, and suddenly I’m a target in a way I would never be without them. I don’t want that kind of attention. For one thing, it undercuts my power. Genevieve? Genevieve, sit down. You’re making my head spin.”

  Genevieve threw up her hands. “But it’s so easy for someone to get to you!”

  “Yes, Vee, you’ve already said that. It’s easy for them to get to you, too, you know. You’ve been on the news a lot lately, doing press conferences and interviews. You’re probably more recognizable than I am.”

  “But no one wants…I’m not…“

  Victoria smiled as recognition spread across Genevieve’s face.

  “Did you just call me ‘Vee’?”

  “Noticed that, did you? Sit down. Please?” The headache lurking behind her eyes was starting to pulse, and she couldn’t stop the faint moan that escaped her. Genevieve was at her side instantly, kneeling in front of the couch.

  “Do you want more water? Another blanket? What can I do?”

  “Slow down. Please just slow down.” Guessing that part of Genevieve’s agitation stemmed from the fear of being alone with her, she reached out and touched her cheek. “Just be here with me. Please.”

  It took a moment, but her words sank in. She watched the transformation with fascination: Genevieve’s shoulders dropped, her jaw relaxed, and she found stillness. They stayed like that, just gazing at one another, for a long moment.

  “Genevieve, I’m so sorry.” After all the times she had said it in her head to an imaginary Genevieve, it felt so good to be able to say it to a real one, one kneeling in front of her and gazing at her with a look of unguarded affection.

  “We don’t need to do this now,” Genevieve said.

  “I need to. I was young and scared, but that’s no excuse for the way I walked out on you. I’ve missed you every day since then. I don’t want to miss you anymore.”

  “I don’t want to be angry with you anymore. Or doubt you. When you didn’t show up tonight…”

  “You thought I was standing you up.”

  She looked uncomfortable, and Victoria thought it was ironic that she was apologizing from a reclining position on a couch, while Genevieve was on her knees in front of her. Sweeping aside a piece of dark hair that had fallen into Genevieve’s eyes, she said, “Not used to that, are you?”

  “Being stood up? No, not really.”

  “I’ll never stand you up again.”

  “I think it would be more than a little unfair to call tonight standing me up.”

  Victoria could feel the air between them, as if it were a physical barrier to their growing closeness. “You shouldn’t have to doubt me.”

  “I don’t. Not really. It was just a reflex.”

  “Do you just want me because I was the one that got away?” Tori asked, half joking. But only half.

  Now it was Genevieve’s turn to smile. “Who says I want you?”

  “You do. Every time you look at me. You always have, from the first moment you saw me. To the point of distraction. I know, because that’s how I feel about you. We’re not kids anymore, Vee, and I don’t want to play around.”

  “And what if I only want you because you’re the one that got away?”

  Victoria shifted on the couch so that she was sitting up, planting her feet on the floor when she asked her next question. “I’m here now. I’m yours for the taking. Still want me?”

  When Genevieve didn’t answer right away, the world around Victoria spun. She might have been in a vortex, with every dimension of the universe flowing toward the woman in front of her.

  “More than anything,” Genevieve breathed.

  The impact of those words caused Victoria to sway. “I’ve had a rough night and I want to make sure I’m not hallucinating. Could you say that again, please?”

  Genevieve shifted so that she was between her legs. Putting her hands on Victoria’s thighs, she said, “I want you. Do you only want me because you haven’t had anyone else?”

  Victoria raised her eyebrows. “Who says I haven’t had anyone else?” She enjoyed the surprise on Genevieve’s face. “I want you because no one else makes me feel this way.”

  “Still?”

  “Still.”

  “That settles that.”

  “Then put your lips on mine,” Victoria commanded, and Genevieve responded immediately. Jesus, her lips were so soft, and the taste of her breath was intoxicating. She held Genevieve’s face in her hands, and the skin beneath her ear felt so soft she could hardly believe she was really touching it. When it became almost too much to handle, she clung to Genevieve, nuzzling her nose against her neck.

  “Let’s go upstairs. You must be exhausted.” Genevieve held her close, lightly massaging her back.

  “I’m wide awake. If you think I could sleep right now…”

  She felt rather than heard Genevieve’s laughter.

  “Let’s go upstairs anyway.”

  “Why, Genevieve Fornier, are you going to take advantage of me in my weakened state?”

  Genevieve stood and held out her hand. Victoria took it and eased up against her body. They held each other for a long time, while Victoria tried to memorize everything she could. The muscles in Genevieve’s shoulders. The slope of her waist. The feel of their thighs touching. She breathed deeply, smelling chlorine and mint. It was a different scent than the one she was used to, and she supposed that somewhere along the way Genevieve had switched products. But underneath all that she could smell raw Genevieve—the slight smell of sweat that clung to her skin, probably from the anxiety of the night.

  “Tonight must have been very hard for you. How did you find me?” she asked.

  “Let’s talk upstairs. I’m done with standing for a while.”

  They broke apart and Genevieve looked at her with those bedroom eyes that Victoria had fantasized about for so long. She followed her up the stairs and into a bedroom with a fireplace, sliding glass doors that led to a balcony overlooking the city, and a large painting of the streets of Avignon on the far wall. “Who painted that?”

  “One of my first clients. He was a graphic designer for a large firm in Chicago, and they fired him when they discovered he was gay. He came to me, we sued, and they settled. He painted this for me when I told him that my family had roots there.”

  “So, I was dead wrong when I said that coming out would ruin your career.”

  “Well, it easily could have gone the other way.”

  “I’m glad I was wrong.”

  Genevieve slid her hand beneath Victoria’s chin. “I’m just glad you’re here right now.” She kissed her lightly and led her to the bed.

  They lay facing each other under the covers while Genevieve retold the evening’s events from her point of view. Victoria soothed her as she listened, stroking her cheek, her hands, and her sides.

  When she had finished, Genevieve admitted, “I felt a little out of place at the hospital. Like you had all these other people in your life, and I was sort of superfluous. I didn’t like it.”

  “I have a confession, too. When the announcement came down that you were taking over the Samuels case, I almost passed out.”

  “Did you now?”

  “The thought of seeing you again…”

  “I was nervous too.”

  “Nervous and an
gry,” Victoria corrected.

  “Okay, true. It’s amazing how much swimming next to you helped me work through my anger.”

  “You look really good in a suit.”

  Genevieve laughed. “I look really good out of a suit. Hey, Nic and Jamie were wondering: what do you people wear under your robes?”

  “Oh, Nic and Jamie were wondering.”

  “Well, yeah. They’re very curious. That’s what makes them good lawyers.” She traced little patterns on Victoria’s shoulder.

  “And that’s what you all were whispering about when we entered, isn’t it?”

  Genevieve opened her mouth and shut it.

  Victoria laughed. “I promise you that every lawyer who has ever argued in front of us asks that at one time or another. We get a kick out of it, really.”

  “You still haven’t answered.”

  “Well, you’ll have to come by my chambers some time and find out.”

  Genevieve stared at her and Victoria saw she was uncertain about how to respond.

  “Yes, Vee, I mean it. Well, not the part about fooling around in my office. But you coming by some time. To see where I work. If you want to.”

  She had been thinking that the power in this situation was all hers, as it had been the first time when she insisted on the utmost discretion at all times—when her career aspirations seemed to shape so much of their interactions and the trajectory of their relationship. Now it occurred to her that she didn’t—shouldn’t—hold all the cards this time. Maybe Genevieve wouldn’t want to be that public with their relationship.

  Genevieve seemed to be thinking through the same thing.

  “You know, Vee, we should talk about what being together might mean for your career. You wouldn’t be able to argue in front of the Court again.”

  “Unless you recuse yourself,” Genevieve corrected.