Seamless

by Griffin, R. L.

  “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong. I do.” He raised the gun to her head.

  She felt the muzzle burn her temple and she squeezed her eyes closed. “Please,” she choked out.

  He pulled the trigger and she screamed.

  “Stella!” Patrick was sitting in the bed shaking her by her shoulders. “El! Wake up.”

  Her eyes popped open and she let out a loud sob. She covered her mouth with both of her hands and he pulled her into his arms.

  “You’re okay.”

  Stella sagged against him. Fuck.

  “What was it this time?” Patrick asked into her hair.

  “Bullet to the head,” she answered lifelessly. “When will it all end? I’m so fucking tired.”

  “Have you talked to your psychiatrist about your dreams?”

  She nodded into his chest.

  “Why are they getting worse?”

  “I assume because of what we’re planning. I don’t know.” Her voice was scratchy from screaming. “I’m feeling like I’m on the edge of something deep and scary, like an abyss where I keep falling.”

  “We’re close,” he whispered into her ear.

  She nodded. He was the only person who knew the plan, but they needed help and she was leaving that up to him. It was his plan. His crazy, fucked up plan to use her as bait to get Jamie to attack again. This time they’d be ready. The only question was if the plan would work; would he attack at the right time or would he just kill her and that would be the end? The end of it all? She’d really decided she was fine either way.

  “El! Patrick! You guys okay?” Millie called as she came down the stairs.

  Patrick separated himself from Stella, squeezing her shoulder before moving away.

  Stella wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her left hand. “Sorry, Mil. I had another dream where Jamie killed me.” She put on a fake smile. “Nothing new.”

  “Why is your medication not working? You really need to get that worked out.” Millie sat down on the opposite side of the bed as Patrick. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

  Stella stopped wiping her face for a minute. “Really? Would you?”

  Millie nodded and lay down next to Stella, moving Cooper with her foot.

  “Wait, can I stay too?” Patrick asked excitedly. “This is like a dream—”

  Millie threw a pillow, interrupting him. “Girls only.”

  “That sucks.” He shrugged. “Can I at least tuck my girls in?”

  “Get out of here, perv!” Millie threw another pillow at him.

  Stella felt Millie’s fingers entwine with hers and she squeezed her best friend’s hand. “I love you, Mil. Thank you.”

  “Of course, asshole.”

  “My dreams are getting much worse.” Stella was sitting cross-legged in the wingback chair facing Denise. She shook her head, remembering the most recent one.

  “What was this last dream about, Stella?” Denise asked.

  “About the guy who shot me and him killing me this time.”

  “Well, that’s a reasonable dream for someone who’s been through the trauma you have,” Denise soothed.

  “But I don’t want to have these dreams anymore.” Stella pulled out the pen that was holding her hair in a loose bun and reached it down into her cast to scratch an itch. She sighed in relief.

  “I understand, Stella, but I think while the threat is still very real to you, that’s just not going to happen. Your dreams are your biggest fears coming true.”

  Jamie kissing her and her liking it was something she feared in a deep, distant way, but it was in no way the worst fear of the dream.

  Denise took a sip of her tea. “You told me that you have an active death threat. It makes sense that while all of your fears are coming close to reality, your dreams would be getting more active.”

  “Honestly, my biggest fear isn’t me dying,” Stella responded. This was a full disclosure place, right?

  “What is your biggest fear?”

  She took in a breath. It scared her so much she didn’t want to say it out loud. If only Denise knew how close it was to being a reality.

  “Biggest fear, Stella,” Denise prompted.

  Stella examined her hands.

  “You want to know mine?” Denise asked. “Something happening to my kids. I’m afraid that’s something that would be so devastating that my entire world would change.”

  “I’m afraid that George will be killed because of me,” Stella blurted out.

  Denise looked up. “That’s perfectly reasonable.”

  “I’ve been through that sort of pain, that loss, and I’m honestly not sure I can do it again. Add on top of that pain, the knowledge that I’m the reason behind his death would end me.” Stella was frozen with the reality that she’d just said that out loud. This was something she wanted to keep buried deep and not even acknowledge the possibility.

  “Stella,” Denise’s voice was calm, “you aren’t responsible for the actions of a sadistic psychopath.”

  “If George wasn’t anywhere near me, that sadistic motherfucker wouldn’t even know his name,” Stella spit out.

  “Stella, I need you to do something for me,” Denise said, setting her tea down. “This is going to be hard for you.”

  “Well, all of this is hard for me.”

  “We need to get everything out in the open. I’ve put some things together since you’ve been getting therapy and I’m going to ask you a series of questions I want you to answer.”

  Stella shrugged. “Okay, that doesn’t seem that difficult.”

  “I want honest, truthful, nothing-omitted answers,” Denise cajoled.

  Silence. Stella didn’t know if she could do that.

  “I will never speak a word of the next 30 minutes to anyone. It wouldn’t matter if you told me you were going to leave this office and go kill someone. Do you understand?”

  “You’d be breaking the law,” Stella said matter-of-factly.

  Denise’s eyes took on an edge that Stella hadn’t seen before. “I don’t fucking care.”

  Stella was taken aback by Denise’s words and then a smile spread across her face. She nodded at Denise to start.

  Patrick and Stella were running a different route today and headed toward the city following the Potomac. It was a beautiful run by the river even when it was still dark outside. The moon reflected in the river made the run very dream-like and allowed Stella to get caught up in the scenery, distracting her from thinking about not being able to breathe. They’d just gotten their pace down when Patrick cleared his throat.

  “I’ve been thinking, and I don’t like your plan right now.” He looked at her, but the darkness masked his features and she couldn’t tell if he was concerned or just being condescending.

  “Well, come up with something better,” she said.

  “I have.”

  Silence.

  “Well? What is it?” she asked impatiently.

  Patrick kept his gaze straight ahead. “Need to know.”

  “What the fuck do you mean, need to know? It’s my plan!” She stopped running; he didn’t. She had to race to catch up with him. “Patrick?”

  “First of all, it’s our plan. We came up with it together, and honestly, I don’t know if getting the FBI to interview and arrest Jamie will end this.” He looked straight ahead.

  “Sure it will.” She was positive she had a plan in place that would get Jamie out of their hair where he couldn’t hurt them.

  “I don’t think we’re thinking about all the angles.”

  “What angles are we missing?” Stella stared at him, trying to analyze his features.

  “I’m concerned that the ATF is going to protect him, El. He was under for four fucking years to bust this group. They’re going to do everything they can to support him. And the fact that the FBI has been snooping around has made the atmosphere at the agency a little interesting.”

  “Interesting?” she asked, not understanding his meaning
.

  “They aren’t going to let this happen. They’ll put him back under where it would be top secret where he’s located. We’ve got to come at this a different way.”

  “What?” She felt like she did when she fell off the monkey bars when she was little, landing on her back in a heap. All of her confidence in her plan withered and disappeared.

  “I also think he may be in deep shit with the group he was under with,” Patrick continued.

  “No shit,” she said, that familiar hardness shoving its way back into her mind.

  “No, I’m positive they don’t know he’s ATF. They think he’s on the run because of the bombing and he did steal that money from them when he left. Then you took it from him. They’re hunting him now.”

  “So what? He’s hiding in plain sight?”

  “Something like that,” Patrick confirmed.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “What if that group found out he was ATF?”

  “They’d kill him.”

  Patrick nodded. “Exactly.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Quack like a Duck

  George had been on the road for over three weeks now and he was looking forward to heading home for a few days. He needed a break. He was sitting in another hotel room, writing a story about Senator Ashby’s stance on gun control. Needing a break, he pulled out his phone and sent a text to Stella.

  My duck misses you

  He threw his phone on the bed and pulled a Coke out of his cooler. His phone beeped.

  Hahahahahahahaha your duck?

  George looked at his phone and sure enough, the text he sent to start a sexual back and forth said duck instead of dick. He laughed out loud.

  Yep. I want to put my duck everywhere

  Stella texted back immediately.

  Ducks need to stay in the water

  George chuckled.

  My duck needs some alone time so it can quack

  His phone buzzed again.

  You’re so weird. no duck is coming near me…dick that’s cool

  He typed his next text and hit send.

  So my duck quacking isn’t doing it for you

  Her response was immediate.

  No.

  He laughed. George tapped on the Voxer app. “I was trying for sexting, but it’d be my luck to have a typo like that. My dick does miss you. I’d like to slip into something more comfortable.”

  Her laughter sounded in his hotel room. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

  Just the sound of her voice changed his entire mood. He felt lighter with her laughter ringing in his ears.

  She was sitting on the couch, Cooper’s head on her lap. Every time Stella stroked his head, his tail wagged. Billy was playing some video game that had him killing zombies and she was drinking.

  “So, you moving back in with us?” Billy asked, not taking his eyes off the screen.

  “No. Just feeling a little vulnerable I guess.” She looked at her broken hand.

  “Yeah, but Patrick said Jamie’s got a nice shiner. It was worth it, wasn’t it?” Billy smirked.

  Although Stella didn’t tell him everything, she knew Patrick did, so telling Patrick was really like telling Billy, too.

  “Fuck yeah it was,” she answered. Stella pulled an ink pen from the coffee table and stuck in down in the cast. “It itches like a bitch, though.” She kept moving the pen up and down, trying to scratch every inch of her hand and arm covered by the cast. The top of the pen got stuck in the cast when she pulled it out. “Fucker!” she swore, holding her arm out and shaking it so she could see where the cap had lodged itself.

  “So, you’re allowing yourself to be used as bait, huh?” Billy asked, pausing the video game to watch her with an amused expression.

  “Patrick told you?” She maneuvered the pen down her cast to try to push the top closer to the edge.

  “Not much he doesn’t tell me these days, El. Millie has been on his ass constantly since you told her about him lying to you about Jamie. Low blow, by the way. So he needs someone to talk to with all you guys needing him and shit.” Billy walked over to where she was sitting and dropped down to the couch beside her. “Why can’t you need me?”

  She filed away the fact that Millie was pissed at Patrick; she’d need to talk to him about it later. “Oh, but I do need you,” she said, laughing.

  He took her arm in his hands and expertly used the pen to push the cap to the top of the cast and popped it out. “How’s that?” he asked.

  “Oh, shit. Thank you.” She waved her cast at him. “See, I need you.”

  “That doesn’t count,” he said, turning his video game back on and sinking back into his seat.

  “I need you to give me a break in my otherwise pretty shitty existence. I need to talk about the pictures that keep circulating on Twitter, the fact that I shouldn’t wear tank tops anymore or that I’m twenty-fucking-six years old and I’m afraid to sleep in my own bed. And obviously, I need you to pull out the shit that I get stuck in my cast.”

  Billy paused his game again and put his feet on the floor. “El, you don’t have to do this. Let the FBI do what it’s supposed to do. You’re not trained and it’s eating away at you.”

  She took a sip of her wine. “I’m committed.”

  “Or you should be committed.” He laughed. “I think it’s clear it won’t work. What will you do when it doesn’t work?”

  “Know that I did every fucking thing that I could to keep George safe.”

  “Get the fuck over yourself. This isn’t about George, it’s about you.”

  She felt like he’d slapped her. This was about keeping the ones that she loved safe, even Billy.

  “Stella,” he said, shaking her out of her own head.

  She shook her head in disagreement. No way.

  “Admit it. You want revenge. Doesn’t have anything to do with George. You admit that to me and then we’ll talk more.” He started playing his game and put his legs back on the coffee table.

  Stella took a sip of wine and petted Cooper. Maybe she had been lying to herself.

  I’m more fucked up than I thought.

  The next day, Stella hurried out of her office and onto K Street. She and Millie were meeting at Café Carvy for a quick lunch. Stella wanted to run an idea by Millie. She voxed her en route.

  “Lunch Box, I—” She busted out laughing. “This is Magic Box. I’m almost there. Get me whatever you’re having.”

  Her Voxer app beeped and she heard Millie laughing. “I may have to get Patrick to start calling me that too.”

  Stella smiled as she walked across 19th St. and found Millie standing in line.

  “What’d you get us?”

  “Turkey,” Millie responded. “I have to watch what’s in this lunch box. Don’t want it to get overfilled, you know?”

  “Fucking gross, Millie.” She slapped Millie’s arm and Millie laughed hysterically. “How was y’all’s date last night?”

  “It was fine; we went to that Italian place in Old Town. I was surprised you were already in bed when we got home.”

  “I went downstairs to think and ended up falling asleep.” She shrugged and picked up her sandwich from the counter.

  Millie led them over to a small table outside. “Whatcha thinking about?”

  “I want to surprise George in Iowa. Do you think he’d like that?”

  Taking a big bite of her sandwich, Millie nodded. “Yes,” she said with her mouth full. “Definitely.” Millie’s phone dinged; she looked at it and smiled. “We’re on Twitter. Let’s do a selfie and I’ll post it.”

  “A selfie?” Stella laughed. “I don’t want to have anything to do with your selfie.”

  “A fucking picture, Stella. I’ll post it on Twitter. You do need good things on there, you know.”

  “Oh, like where I’m eating lunch?” Stella was incredulous that anyone would give a shit where she was having lunch.

  “Yes, like where we’re eating lunch. It’s already on
there anyway.”

  Relenting, Stella leaned into Millie and spread her perfected fake grin across her lips. Millie took a picture and then posted it.

  “See? Easy peasy.”

  “We’ll have to leave in like, ten minutes or people will come over here trying to kill me,” Stella joked.

  “So, Patrick told me the FBI is using you for bait now,” Millie commented, then took another bite of her sandwich.

  “Fuck…who hasn’t Patrick told?” Stella rubbed her face with the palm of her hand.

  “He’s worried. I think talking about it helps him.” Millie shrugged. “Hot dress, by the way. It makes your ass look amazing.”

  “My ass is amazing,” Stella said with a valley girl accent and Millie laughed.

  “I’ve told you this a number of times, but I really don’t understand how dumb, don’t forget to pronounce the b, please, you are. Your plan or strategy or whatever it is…is pure…dumbassery.”

  Stella stopped mid-bite and put her sandwich down. An amused smile played on her lips. “Dumbassery?” Millie nodded, chewing.

  “That’s not a word.”

  “It should be and you would be the definition.” Millie put her sandwich down too. She spread her hands around Stella’s face, framing it. “Your fucking picture is the definition of dumbassery.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Fight for Us

  She walked in the hotel bar and looked around. She didn’t see George until a woman moved and she got a glimpse of his blue oxford shirt and khakis. His hair was too long and curled over his ears. The woman was pretty, professional, and clearly in a serious discussion with Stella’s boyfriend. The woman and George were undoubtedly familiar; they were too close to be strangers. The woman’s head fell back in a cackle and she slapped his arm, yelling, “Will, you’re so bad!” All the anticipation of getting there to see George evaporated and a small twinge of emotion formed in her gut.

  Straightening herself, Stella walked to the bar and ordered a drink, all the while watching the exchange going on between George and this woman. The woman put her hand on his and he moved it once, twice; if she moved her red head any closer to George she would be kissing him. Abruptly, George stood, creating distance between himself and the woman. His eyes widened as he saw Stella sitting at the end of the bar, sipping a vodka tonic. She raised her glass toward him as he made his way to where she was sitting.