Seamless

by Griffin, R. L.

  “Fucking concussion,” Jesse replied. “It’s the third one in my NFL career.”

  “You worried?”

  “Fuck yeah, I’m worried. All those tests that show football players die after they quit playing and all the concussions really take a toll of players’ bodies—shit, man.”

  “I know,” George agreed. “You got your doctors on it?”

  “They do what they can, man. What can I say? It comes with the territory, you know?”

  “Yeah, I guess it does.” George pulled up his email and was sifting through them when he saw an email from his ex-girlfriend, Jessica. Curious, he opened it.

  Will,

  I hope things are going well for you. I’ve noticed you’re writing again. I think I have a job that you may be interested in. Call me. My number’s the same.

  Jessica

  He noted that the signature of the email was from Senator Ashby’s office; she must be working for him now. He was re-reading the email again and thinking about the things they did to each other when they both worked on the House side of the Hill when Jesse’s voice brought him back to the present.

  “George?” he heard Jesse saying.

  “Oh, sorry, dude. What did you say?”

  “I said I haven’t gotten any closer to the Jamie situation, but I have two bodyguards that have gotten rooms next to Stella and Millie’s room in New York.”

  “That’s awesome, man. Thanks.”

  “Have you told her we’re doing that yet?” Jesse asked.

  “I think I’ll tell her when she gets there and meets them. You know her, she’d pitch a fucking fit about being independent and shit.” George smiled just thinking about her likely reaction to bodyguards for her and Millie in New York. He wouldn’t have done it if she hadn’t been such an ass about them going by themselves.

  “I’d hate to be you during that call.” Jesse laughed. “I gotta go, man, I need some more pain meds.”

  “Feel better,” George said.

  “I’m trying.”

  Chapter Ten

  Porn Martinis

  Stella brushed her teeth and looked in the mirror. She’d just taken a sleeping pill so hopefully she’d sleep soundlessly. George downplayed her nightmares and talking in her sleep, but she was sharing her hotel room with Millie and didn’t want to scare the shit out of her friend. She was dreading it, but didn’t know how to force Millie into paying for her own room in New York when Stella was the one who’d invited her.

  On the outside, she’d perfected the calm, composed façade. In direct contrast to the outside, Stella’s insides were churning. Therapy, which was supposed to help her mind, was forcing her to face things she didn’t want to and her nightmares had actually gotten worse.

  Reluctantly, Stella walked to the left side of the bed and grabbed her iPod. She selected a soothing playlist full of The Civil Wars and Ben Harper. Hitting play, she got into the bed and smiled at Millie, who was reading on her Kindle.

  “What are you reading?” Stella asked.

  “Oh my shit, it’s so good. It’s about a con artist, a tattoo artist and a drug lord.”

  “Um…okay.” Stella sunk into the bed.

  “You’d love it. I’m Team Camden, but whatever,” Millie said, knowing Stella didn’t care.

  “You’re on a team for the book?” Stella asked, her eyebrows raised in skepticism.

  “There’re teams for all books,” Millie responded flippantly.

  “I wasn’t aware of that, Millie. I’ll keep it in mind next book I read.” Stella laughed and put her earbuds in. She only heard a few songs before her sleeping pill kicked in and she was asleep.

  Her body tingled with the feeling she got right before she threw up; she felt both hot and cold. It was that feeling that makes you want to vomit so bad just to get it over with, to feel better; the feeling that there’s something sitting on your chest and pressing down on your organs. She looked around quickly, taking in her surroundings. It was Finnegan’s, but no one was there except her. All of a sudden, she heard a shot ring out from the back of the bar where the office was located. She went to spring into action and run to where the sound came from, but her limbs were moving at a pace only a turtle would be proud of. She looked down to see why should couldn’t move and her chest opened and began oozing blood down her body. A scream stuck in her throat as she heard labored footsteps behind her. Painstakingly, she turned her head to see George walking toward her, holding his chest, blood pouring from a hole near his heart. She looked down at her chest and then at his. He took another step and then collapsed, face-first, directly in front of her feet.

  “George!” she cried. All of sudden she could move again. She screamed, squatted down and turned him over. His body was hard, like he’d already been embalmed. Stella screamed again as her blood mixed with his and pooled under his body.

  She jolted awake when someone touched her arm. Millie had turned a lamp on and was looking at her, her eyes full of fear. “You okay?” Millie whispered.

  Stella looked at the clock; it was four o’clock in the morning. Well, at least she’d made it through most of the night. She ran her hand through her now shoulder-length bob, her fingers catching in the sweat drenched hair. “I think you know the answer to that,” Stella quipped as she got up and walked to the bathroom.

  The next day, Stella and Millie had attempted to go to breakfast early before the interview started, but were blocked in their room by two burly men guarding the door.

  “Excuse us.” Stella tried to squeeze through the men’s shoulders.

  “Ms. Murphy, Ms. Rodriguez, we’re meant to stay with you while you’re in New York,” the bigger of the two said.

  “What?” Millie said from behind Stella.

  “I’m confused,” Stella replied, peering at Millie.

  “We’re your bodyguards this weekend,” the other man-beast barked.

  “Why are you our bodyguards?” Millie asked from behind the wall of man. She put her right arm between the men and maneuvered around them. She stood with her hands on her hips in the hallway, waiting for an explanation.

  “Will and Jesse thought it’d be a good idea.” One of the men shrugged.

  Stella’s eyebrows raised. “They did what now?”

  “El, I guess this is what we get for refusing to allow a boy to accompany us here.” Millie narrowed her eyes at the men. “You have to follow us everywhere?”

  They both nodded.

  “Fuck.” Stella sighed. “Come on, Mil, I’m in need of caffeine and food. Tweedledee, Tweedledum, you hungry?”

  Millie and Stella decided just to grab coffees and chocolate croissants at the coffee shop in the hotel. The two men hovered near their table.

  “Can you at least sit the fuck down with us?” Stella asked, annoyed. “You’re drawing more attention to us.” She motioned to the gawkers pointing cameras and cell phones at them.

  Millie and Stella’s phones started dinging with notifications as the men sat at the table but continued to case the area for potential threats.

  Millie laughed out loud and pointed to her phone. “These are awesome, El.”

  #fbibeautyondoubledate

  #walkofshamefbibeauty

  #nycfbibeautysnewmanishuge

  “Why the fuck do they still call me FBI Beauty? It’s annoying as shit; I don’t even work for the FBI anymore,” Stella complained after looking at Millie’s phone.

  Millie shrugged, then gave a borderline orgasmic groan as she took a bite of her chocolate croissant, making both of the bodyguards turn to look at her. “Do you think we can buy, like, ten of these to take home, El? They’re ah-mazing.”

  Stella looked around at all the tourists with their phones out, taking pictures. She wanted to flip them off but resisted. “Mil, can I give them all the fucking bird?”

  “Negative.” Millie’s voice was muffled because her mouth was full. “Fuck,” she said when chocolate dropped on her pale yellow sweater dress. “Damn, I’m going to hav
e to change now. I can’t let Diane Sawyer think I’m a slob.”

  Stella pulled out her phone and hit George’s name on Voxer. “Breaker, breaker, Busted Balls. You should’ve told me about the goons.” She smiled at them. “No offense.”

  “None taken,” the guy sitting next to her said. “Jesse said you were kind of a handful.”

  “Did he now?” Stella asked.

  “Better to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission, Love,” George’s voice came through her phone. “And leave my balls alone.”

  After an hour of Millie trying on every piece of clothing either one of them brought, they walked into the hotel room that had been reserved for Stella’s interview.

  Millie greeted a woman with a clipboard. “Stella Murphy is here.”

  “Oh, she’s right on time, great. Makeup is over there.” The woman pointed into the bedroom of the suite.

  Diane Sawyer was already there drinking coffee and getting the finishing touches on her makeup and hair. She was more beautiful in person than Stella expected. As Stella made her way over to the chairs set up for hair and makeup, her stomach flipped and she was glad she’d taken her medication already. She put on her fake smile.

  Diane Sawyer got up when she saw Stella and a brilliant smile spread across her face. “Stella Murphy, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Stella said, shaking her hand nervously. “This is Camille Rodriguez.”

  “Nice to meet you both, but please, don’t call me ‘ma’am.’ You make me feel my age.” She laughed and sat back down in the chair. “Come sit. The faster this part is done the sooner we get to the real fun.”

  Stella nodded and looked at the woman with blue streaks in her hair that was motioning for Stella sit in the chair in front of her. Stella tried not to freak out about this particular woman doing her hair or makeup—it wouldn’t go over well if the FBI Beauty showed up on network television with unnaturally streaked hair. This person was obviously a professional, though. Right?

  “Now, Stella, let’s get to know each other a little,” Diane said as soon as Stella was settled and being primped. “I’ve been doing research on you before today and I’m really glad to meet you.”

  “Thank you,” Stella replied. This entire situation was so surreal. She was having a difficult time believing it was her reality, which was really no different than the last year and a half.

  “Thank you for letting us do the interview, Stella. I’m told it’s the only one you’ll be doing, is that right?” Diane asked.

  “Yes. I don’t want to be in the spotlight, but I know people have questions and this is the easiest way to answer them all at one time,” she answered, reciting what Greg and Millie had been telling her for months.

  “Well, I’ll try to be gentle.” Diane Sawyer laughed and her phone rang. She answered it and Stella tried to catch her breath.

  I’m fucking talking to Diane Sawyer.

  The woman doing her hair leaned in her ear. “You’ll be fine.”

  Stella glanced in the mirror at the woman and mouthed “thank you,” not trusting her voice.

  Diane got up from her chair and the makeup artist came over to Stella and starting putting makeup on her face.

  “I want to make sure it looks natural,” Stella said, surprised by the abruptness of the makeup application.

  The makeup artist nodded and kept applying. When she was done, she walked off, allowing Stella to see herself in the mirror. She looked like a clown. Panicked, she looked for Millie.

  “Did you see where my friend went?” Stella asked anxiously.

  The hair stylist pointed toward the couches where Diane Sawyer and Millie were talking like they were old friends. Stella stood up and willed her legs to move.

  Millie, seeing her face, stood up and exclaimed, “You look awesome!”

  “It’s not too much makeup?” Stella asked. She touched her cheek. “I sort of feel like a clown.”

  “It looks like it’s too much to you now, but on camera, it will look natural. I promise.” Diane moved to a chair directly across from the couch and motioned for Stella to sit. “Let’s get started. Do you want any water or anything?”

  “I’ll get it,” Millie offered immediately and hurried across the room to where a couple of bottles of water were waiting. She grabbed one and turned to see Stella’s anguish morph into relief. “Here you go.” She put the water on the table in front of Stella and gave her a reassuring smile. Then she moved behind Diane Sawyer to take in the interview. Stella straightened her black and grey striped dress and crossed her legs.

  “Stella Murphy, I just want to say first, that we’re so happy to be sitting down with you today. I know this is uncomfortable for you and that you’re a private person, so I wanted to thank you.” Diane leaned down and put her pad on the table between them.

  “I’m happy to clear up some of the misinformation that’s out there about me and you’re my favorite journalist, so you won the prize,” Stella said mischievously.

  Millie smiled at the immediate and total 180 Stella did. She went from looking like she was about to puke to the calm, confident person Mille knew her to be. Stella smiled and pretended she was in a courtroom.

  “Well, I’m not sure I’m your favorite reporter. I did hear that your boyfriend is a reporter, so I guess second best will have to do.” She laughed. “So let’s start easy. How are you doing?”

  “I’m in a strange place,” Stella admitted, “because my testimony is over right now but there’s a pending investigation for the recent threats against me. I think, all in all, I’m doing okay. I’m working, which makes me happy. I’m living with the love of my life, which makes me extremely happy. And I’m really just trying to put all of this behind me.”

  “You have a really healthy attitude about things. I have to say I see what’s happened to you and I feel so sorry for you. I don’t know what I would do if my fiancé died, I got shot, turned into a celebrity overnight, had to testify in a federal trial, and then received death threats.” Diane’s voice was sympathetic.

  “Well, when you put it like that, I may need to throw up.” Stella made a move to get up and then sat back down.

  Diane laughed politely. “We know so much about you that a normal person would keep private; how are you dealing with that?”

  “I honestly think that’s the worst part of this entire experience,” she paused, “and yes, that includes getting shot. I just want to go back to the days when I could run with my dog and it wouldn’t end up all over the internet.”

  “Well, you have to understand the media’s fascination with you.”

  Stella shook her head. “I really don’t. My friends tell me it’s because I’m very tragic,” she smirked and looked at Millie.

  “Well, I’m not sure it’s that, Stella. It’s because all of these things keep happening to you and you keep going. Also, it doesn’t hurt that you’re a very attractive woman. The many pictures of you scantily clad helped fuel the ‘FBI Beauty’ moniker.”

  “Ugh, I hate that name.” Stella rolled her eyes and took a sip of water.

  “Why?”

  “Because I worked for the General Counsel for the FBI approximately three weeks before I was shot—I don’t even work for them anymore and I’m not beautiful. I’m very normal-looking and just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “You don’t think you’re beautiful?” Diane Sawyer raised her eyebrows at Stella, showing she didn’t believe her.

  “No, I don’t. I think you’re beautiful. I think beautiful is different to everyone. Nothing about me is beautiful right now and that’s my opinion. It’s a stupid name.” She took another sip of water. “About the pictures…I was in college and wearing a bathing suit. Most regular college students go to the pool or beach and have pictures taken.” She shrugged. “Mine just happened to be broadcast on TV.”

  Diane swiftly changed the subject. “When you woke up in the hospital, who was with you?”

  “Ge
orge and my parents,” she answered easily.

  Diane smiled kindly at Stella. “When you mention George, your entire face lights up.”

  “My entire body lights up when I think about George,” Stella agreed.

  “Now, there has been some speculation that you two have been on the rocks since you left to go to Atlanta. You guys still going strong?”

  “Yes. He is the purest soul I’ve met. I’ve been lucky enough to be loved by him and he’s ruined me for anything that comes next.”

  “What does that mean?” Diane prodded.

  “It means George is it for me; he’s the only man that I ever want to be with. If he decides he doesn’t want me around, I may buy the house next door to him,” she chuckled, “simply to be in his presence every day.”

  “Wow, Stella. You are in love.”

  Stella nodded. “Utterly and completely.”

  “So you and Jesse?”

  “Are very close friends, just like Patrick, Millie and Billy.” Stella smiled up at Millie; they’d gone over this answer. “The friends that I have are so important to me; they’re the family that I got to pick. They’ve been there for me through all this and are still with me. You can’t even imagine some of the things they’ve had to put up with.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, Millie helped handle all the media inquiries after I was shot, on top of her job at the Department of Education. Patrick and Billy helped me get through the worst time in my life after Jamie’s funeral. Jesse has been there for me every second after we met and he is a forever friend, one that will stick with you.”

  “So there’s never been anything between you and Jesse.” The statement was a question.

  “Do you mean did we ever date?” Stella said, shifting uncomfortably in her chair.

  Diane nodded.

  Stella breathed out in relief. “No, we never dated.” That was true.

  Diane smiled. “There are rumors that you two had an affair. Let’s just clear the air. Did you ever have sex with Jesse McIntyre?”

  Stella looked down at her hands. She could say she wouldn’t answer, which would be an answer, or she could just answer the fucking question.