Tension

by R. L. Griffin

  After two hours of working harder than she had in months, she realized her cute new white sports tank was see through once she sweated through it. Her nipples were clearly on display as she left the gym. Embarrassed, she dug around her Civic and pulled out an old tank top, shoved it on, and drove to George’s house. Her phone rang and she saw it was a blocked number.

  Ignoring her phone was second nature now. She got all sorts of calls lately. Pulling into the garage and lowering the door behind her, her phone notified her of a new message. Listening to the voice on the message made her skin crawl; he didn’t say anything to identify himself, but she knew it was him. Jamie wanted her to know he knew what she was doing and when she was doing it. However, he wasn’t that original. Most people who were on Twitter or watched the tabloid shows knew her whereabouts. Distracted, Stella walked right into George’s chest.

  “Hey, babe.” Stella stuffed her phone in her gym bag.

  “Hi. Good workout?”

  “Any workout is a good workout,” she said as she walked past him into the stairwell.

  George reached out for her arm and grabbed it, pulling her close so he could whisper in her ear. “I love you sweaty.”

  Smiling, she turned back to George and wrapped her sweaty arms around his neck. “I love that you love me sweaty,” she responded.

  He pushed her up against the wall and then looked at her with a question in his eyes. Hating that he thought he had to ask her to make sure she felt up to sex just made her even more pissed off at Jamie. Stella nodded her head stiffly. A grin broke out across his face, showing those damn dimples, which made her forget all about being pissed off.

  Her phone rang again and she kicked her bag down the hall.

  “You’re soaking wet,” George commented as he took off her top.

  Now it was her turn to smile. “Don’t you like it when I’m soaking wet?”

  “Fuck...” George groaned as Stella grabbed the crotch of his jeans, which was already hard for her.

  She unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down, kneeling in front of him. George tensed and braced himself on the wall. She looked at him and smiled, amused at his reaction. He closed his eyes as she kissed him. He actually hissed as she took him in her mouth.

  After they pleasured each other in the foyer hall, Stella stood up and stretched. She sauntered into the kitchen and poured herself a tall glass of water. George followed her a few moments later and slapped her bare ass. Startled, she spit some of the water on the counter.

  “Well, I guess you’re good for something,” George said as he slapped her ass again and then gave it a little squeeze.

  “Seriously, all you want me for is sex?”

  “That’s it.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling her sweaty hair.

  “So, I was thinking that I may go home for Thanksgiving through Christmas…” Stella said. She didn’t know how he would react, so she thought dropping the bomb after sex might be the best option.

  “You don’t want to be with me over the holidays?” he asked, sounding hurt.

  “It’s not that...” Stella turned around to face him. “My mom has launched an all out ‘take care of Stella campaign.’ If you want me to go a different time, I could probably swing it.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “Of course, babe.” She kissed him on the cheek and slapped his bare ass at the same time.

  He ran his hands up her sides, making goosebumps pop up. “You’re the love of my life, you know. I wish my dad was here to meet you.”

  “I wish I could’ve met him, too.”

  “So you’ll spend the holidays with me? I’ve been making plans.” George’s dimples made an appearance.

  “Uh, oh. What sort of plans?”

  “You don’t want to know.” He smiled mischievously.

  Later that afternoon, when Cooper was doing the potty dance, she decided she’d put it off long enough. She was tired of hiding inside the house, and so was Cooper. He was at the front door, jumping from one foot to the other. Stella grabbed his leash and pulled George’s Nationals hat on down over her eyes. She shoved her rain boots on her bare feet and opened the front door, automatically looking down as the flashes went off. Cooper growled at a photographer that was standing too close. Stella jogged across the street and walked Cooper in the park, trying to ignore the cameras following them. She was sure this picture would be everywhere tomorrow.

  “Stella! Cooper!” They called over and over in order to get them to turn their way. They even knew her dog’s name.

  Hate. Her entire life was infected because of him. It was absurd. The rage was a constant, like a sharp pebble in her shoe. She felt it every time she took a step, when she woke up, when she tried to smile.

  Cooper did his business. She wondered if a picture of Cooper taking a shit would be on the cover of a magazine somewhere or if this was trending on twitter.

  #coopertakesshit

  #coopersshitstinks

  #stelladidntpickupcoopersshit

  Stella pulled the cap down farther on her face, shielding her eyes. She and Cooper hurried back to George’s house and closed the door behind them.

  #fuckphotographers

  Chapter Eight

  There’s Always a Catch

  Every night she drove to the gym with her yoga mat, stood outside the room, and tried to disappear into the crowd. Walking into the darkened room made her breathe easier and for the entire hour she breathed, went through poses, and planned a way to kill Jamie. On her way home she’d call Jesse and go through her plans. Every night he poked holes with her plans. After five weeks, he finally started helping her plan.

  “Okay. After football season, I’m taking you to my buddy’s hunting plantation. I’ll let you practice shooting a gun. What kind do you want?”

  She stopped at a red light on King Street, headed to George’s house. “Sig Sauer.”

  “I love that you know the type of gun you want.” His lazy laugh sounded through the phone.

  “Oh, is that a turn on for you?” she questioned. “No flirting, remember?”

  “I remember that’s what you said,” he retorted.

  “How’s the season?” Stella asked, changing the subject.

  “Could you at least pretend to watch me play every once in a while?” He chuckled.

  “I don’t pretend,” she deadpanned.

  “I’m asking you to watch a game. Just one game.”

  “You got it. When do you play this week?”

  “Hey, Jess,” She smiled at the voice at the other end of the line. Jesse was checking in. He’d missed last night’s call because the Falcons played Monday night. She watched the game; Jesse was nothing short of spectacular. He was on his way to the Falcons practice facility in Flowery Branch, Georgia, to watch “film,” he told her. “I watched you get tackled by other really big men last night. You’re pretty good. Who knew?”

  “I did okay last night,” Jesse responded humbly.

  “Y’all won, that’s something.”

  “Yep, it was a good day. You’re only as good as your last game, though.”

  “So, I guess you’re pretty good today, right?”

  “For this week,” he answered. “You, on the other hand are having a slightly shitty week.”

  The media had been running a photo of her leaving the gym in that damn white tank top a few weeks ago. Fucking see-through shit! It had its own bra in it; the general public couldn’t actually see her nipples or anything, but looks are deceiving, especially when in the hands of the media. It was so cute on the hanger, but she was never wearing it again! Jesse gave her hell about wearing see-through clothes but thanked her for the view.

  “Yep, that’s my life, J. Making sure I don’t embarrass myself on a daily basis, because the entire world will see.” Stella was on the Key Bridge heading into Georgetown. She and Stan were meeting off the radar for the first time since she’d seen him in the hospital. Pulling into a spot on a side road, she listen
ed to Jesse moan about his shitty season. He said he’d be in DC in the next few weeks and suggested they should get together.

  Giving her a few more pointers on dealing with the media, he got off the phone when he got to the practice field. Jesse told her to get a few wigs and different sets of big sunglasses. After getting off the phone with Jesse, she slid her phone into her jeans’ pocket and walked up 34th Street toward M Street. She hooked a right on M Street, pulled her hat down over her eyes, and pushed her sunglasses up her nose. Her hair was in a bun and stuffed in her hat, so that was one less identifying feature. She was wearing one of George’s Nationals T-shirts, baggy jeans, and flip flops. Hopefully, no one would figure out who she was. They were meeting at Old Glory for barbeque and she’d promised to pay.

  Walking into the restaurant, she was assaulted by the smell of cooking meat. She smiled. Stan was already sitting in the booth at the very back of the main floor. She headed that way. He’d already ordered.

  “I’m not even late,” she remarked, sliding into the booth.

  “I’ve got to get back to the office. We’re investigating a terrorist attack against one of our promising attorneys.” He looked at her and took a sip of his soda.

  “So what’s the latest?”

  “Not shit.”

  She blinked at him.

  “Nothing, Stella. We’ve got nothing. They wore gloves, masks, and the explosives they used were homemade, untraceable.”

  “What did they take?” Stella was baffled. She couldn’t fathom Jamie being involved, but he had put a bullet in her. She wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t seen him herself.

  “No one’s been able to figure it out. There was paperwork scattered all around, but the only files that seem to have burned in the fire were the files on the undercover agents for the ATF. Those files were kept in a locked file cabinet at the front of the office. Nothing else seems to be gone or in disarray. It’s the craziest shit.”

  “Are they looking into the group that the undercover agents were working with?” They were looking for information when they blew through the front of the makeshift field office. That didn’t make any sense. She was missing something.

  “That’s the thing, the group the undercover ATF agent was with is still there and operating as usual; like there’s no problem. A couple of FBI agents went in and shook them up, but they all have rock solid alibis. They were missing some of their crew. We’re looking into that.” He took a drink of his tea. “Don’t know how successful we can be, though. There’s an ongoing undercover operation that ATF doesn’t want us fucking up.”

  “Oh really?” She drew her eyebrows up to convey surprise the operation was ongoing.

  “Yes, they have active operatives and they’re currently circling the fucking wagons.”

  “So we’re no closer now than two months ago?”

  The waiter came over and set Stan’s pork sandwich down. “What can I get you?”

  “Yuengling and pulled pork sandwich.”

  “Drinking early, huh?” Stan took a bite of his sandwich. “No judgment,” he said with his mouth full.

  “If I could, I’d just stick in an IV.” She turned and looked at the door. “Have they decided if I can come back yet?”

  “No, they want you to focus on helping with the investigation.”

  “But no one’s asking for my help with the investigation,” she said, exasperated.

  “They don’t want you back, ‘FBI Beauty.’” He took another bite of his sandwich, then stopped and looked at her.

  She started to blow her bangs out of her eyes out of frustration, but paused and counted to thirteen. “What am I supposed to do?”

  Stan lowered his voice. “Find him.”

  “Then what?” she asked, not really expecting an answer. Stella strained to recall whether he told her he knew Jamie shot her. All she could remember was that Stan knew she was engaged to the undercover ATF agent and no one else had made the connection. YET.

  “That, my dear, is up to you. I know what I’d do,” Stan said. Then he grew quiet, concentrating on his food.

  “Are they still on the cleanup on the undercover job? Is the undercover agent still working in Montana?” Stella had a million questions.

  “Cleanup is on hold and the agent is nowhere to be found as of today at 10:38 am.” Stan took the last bite of his sandwich and signaled the server to bring the check.

  Stella looked down at her full plate. She’d lost her appetite.

  “I told you I’d pay.” Stella mindlessly popped a fry in her mouth. “I am getting paid for nothing.”

  “Lucky you,” Stan teased.

  They talked another minute or so before Stan left. Stella ordered another beer and thought about what Stan told her. The FBI was getting nowhere with the investigation and nothing was missing except information about the undercover agents. Maybe Jamie was afraid someone would find out about him and rat him out, so he orchestrated the bomb. She racked her brain about why he was involved and she simply couldn’t come up with any reason that Jamie would conspire with two bad guys to bomb a FBI office. The problem was the Jamie she knew didn’t exist anymore.

  Cooper followed George around his bedroom after he got out the shower. “Why are you following me, boy?” George asked, leaning down to pet Cooper’s back. “You feeling needy?” he teased. He heard his cell phone ring from his office and he jogged to answer it, holding his towel around his waist.

  “Hello?” George didn’t recognize the number.

  “Will, this is Paul from AP.”

  George scratched his head. “Paul?”

  “From AP, we worked…”

  “Oh, Paul. Sorry, you caught me totally off guard.” George sat in his leather office chair. “How’s it going, man?”

  “Oh good, you know there’s always news to report.”

  A twinge of nostalgia rose in George’s throat, and he cleared his throat.

  “So, the reason I’m calling is I was wondering if you might be interested in doing some independent work for us.”

  “What? Why me?” He was shocked; he’d been out of the business for years. It was strange that this guy even remembered his name, let alone wanted him to do work for him. Reporters were a dime a dozen.

  “Well, you had talent. I’m guessing you haven’t lost it,” Paul answered.

  “Okay…”

  “Look, I have someone who wants to do a story on the ‘FBI Beauty.’ Can you help us out?”

  George smiled; he knew there was a catch. “So…what? If I help you get some quotes from my girlfriend you’ll let me cover stories?”

  “We may want you to do some research for the piece and that sort of thing, get quotes from her friends… but yeah. You do this, you’ll be back in. You interested?”

  A feeling of pure elation filled his gut, followed by the realization that he couldn’t do that to El.

  “I don’t know. Stella isn’t really doing interviews…” George hedged.

  “I know; that’s why I’m calling you. This would help her. You would be able to get the piece to put her in the best light. Really get her story out there, not some shit about her drinking and almost failing out of law school. Anyone who looks at her transcripts can tell she didn’t do that bad.” Paul took a breath. “Look, Will, you’ll be leading the entire story. We’ll put it with another person’s byline, but you’ll have final approval of the story before it goes. People really want to know everything about her. Who better to get it out there, from her perspective, than you?”

  “Well, a friend is handling press, so let me put a call in. I’ll get back with you.”

  “Good, I look forward to hearing back from you, soon.”

  “Is this a good number to reach you?” George sat back as far as his chair would let him go.

  “Yep. Talk to you soon.” Paul disconnected.

  Cooper put his head on George’s knee, his tail wagging back and forth. George smiled. “What do you think, Coop? You think she’ll
go for it?”

  After she met with Stan, Stella went straight to the gym. The pounding of her body and the loud bass of her music helped her keep going. Thoughts from her lunch with Stan swirled around in her head. I’m a smart girl, I can figure this out. She willed her body to make it five miles. As she looked up briefly, she tripped as she saw her 19-year-old self in a light blue string bikini. Then the news show flashed onto the video of her first and only run outside with Cooper since she’d been back. Good God, that sports bra doesn’t do its job.

  Being pissed fueled her to run six miles. This is on a news show? I can’t fucking get away from this shit. She turned off the treadmill and walked into the locker room. Turning the corner, she took in a very unusual and disturbing scene. One of the older regulars at the gym was standing behind the bench with her leg propped up on the bench, naked. Stella was mortified as she watched the woman rub lotion up and down her legs. Stella grabbed her stuff from her locker and practically ran in the other direction before the old lady could initiate a conversation, laughing the entire way to George’s.

  As she turned into the driveway, she realized his SUV and motorcycle were in the garage. She usually parked in the garage. Annoyed, she parked outside in the driveway, hurried into the garage, and closed the door, evading the sole cameraman in the front of the house. Opening the door, she yelled, “George?!”

  “Up here!” he called from the third floor.

  “What are you doing up here?” she yelled as she walked up the stairs.

  “I got a proposition today.”

  “You got propositioned today?” Stella laughed as she walked into his study, where he was working on the computer.

  “So you know how Millie told you to get out in front of all this media coverage? The Associated Press called today and asked me if I was interested in writing again.”

  “They want you to write a story? That’s awesome.” Stella walked behind him and ran her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp.

  His dimples appeared. “Yep. There’s a catch, though. They were hoping to get an exclusive interview with you. I know it’s because you’re my girlfriend, but damn, it feels good to think about writing and investigating again.” George swiveled his chair around to face her and grabbed the back of her thighs, pulling him to her.