Tension

by R. L. Griffin

  “You hungry?” Dennis asked from a good distance away. He looked toward the pub.

  “They got good conch fritters and fries. More beer, too.” Dennis was tan in a way normal people would never be; his skin dark and leathery. She guessed they didn’t care about skin cancer around here.

  Stella nodded and got up. “Thanks for the beers, Roy. If you come in, I’ll return the favor.”

  “Honey, it looks like you worked for those beers. Thanks, but I’ll just stay out here.”

  “Okay.” She nodded to Jim and followed Dennis into the pub.

  The smell of food reminded her that she was starving. She sat at the bar and smiled when the bartender’s eyes widened at her face. “I want a big order of conch fritters and fries please. Also, I’ll want a piece of key lime pie and tons of beer. I’ll be here awhile. I’m waiting on someone.”

  Stella walked to the bathroom and grimaced when she looked in the mirror. Whoa. Her hair, which was blown out to epic proportions from the wind, framed her bruised face in an almost comical way. She looked insane and broken. Ironically, it was the most whole she’d felt in years. She washed her hands and went back to the bar.

  “You got hats around here?”

  “Sure.” The bartender threw her a Geiger Key Pub & Grill hat. Immediately putting it on and pulling a ponytail out the back, she looked around, taking in the pub. It was shabby tropical chic at its best and she loved it. It smelled like fish and beer.

  The food was out of this world good. She didn’t know if it was due to exhaustion and the fact she was starving or that this place really did have the greatest conch fritters and fries. The beer was ice cold and she was on her fourth when she got her key lime pie. Wow. Stella didn’t eat sweets that often since her stint at Cosi, but she was going to rethink that decision after tasting the creamy, tart, sweet pie. It was really the graham cracker crust that set off the entire pie. She almost moaned out loud when she took a bite into it.

  Stuffed and thoroughly exhausted, Stella was sure that if there was a place for her to lay her head down, she would’ve fallen asleep. She settled for staring into space and waiting as patiently as she could.

  Her back was to the door, but she felt the warm air rush in every time it opened. For about an hour, she looked at the door every time it opened. She realized it would take quite a while for him to get there, so she pushed it out of her mind and just enjoyed the food and beer. On her seventh beer, Dennis came back in and sat next to her.

  “Hey,” he said and signaled the bartender for a beer.

  “Hey.”

  “Enjoy your dinner?”

  “Very much so,” she said and smiled at him, taking him in. His eyes were light blue, like the color of her highlighters in law school. They were clear and bright, especially when compared to the deep tan of his skin. His hair was brown, almost the same color of his skin, and curled around the edge of the orange and blue visor he wore.

  “Good,” he said and then took a sip of his beer.

  The door opened again and she felt him there. She turned in her seat to look at the door, her eyes leaking tears. She leapt from the seat as if it was on fire and then she was in his arms, crying, laughing, and breathing.

  “You’re okay...you’re okay,” George said into her hat as if he were trying to convince himself. Relief flooded his face and his bloodshot eyes.

  Stella kissed him hard, not wanting to let him go.

  After the kiss, he pushed her back from him gently to look at her. “You okay?” His concerned eyes took in her nose, bruises, and overall crazy look.

  “I’m alive,” she confirmed.

  “What happened?” George asked. Stella started shaking her head. “No,” he protested. “Tell me what happened.”

  Stella noticed that standing behind George were Greg and Jesse, both looking worse for the wear. Grinning at Jesse, she mouthed “thanks.” He stepped toward her and looked at George, almost for permission, but Stella moved toward him and had her arms as far around his waist as she could get them.

  “My God, J, it’s good to see y’all.”

  “I’m glad to see you, but you look like hell, Stella,” Jesse said, patting her back.

  Greg walked to the bar to order a couple of beers and they moved to a booth. Stella sat so close to George she was almost in his lap.

  “Truth?” she asked. Stella was trying to figure out what information she should share; Greg didn’t know everything about Jamie yet.

  They all nodded.

  “What do y’all know so far?”

  Greg answered. “You met Jamie’s sister for drinks. Then you were seen being carried out of the restaurant by Sara and another male. You were lucky that you were being followed by a camera guy, he got a picture and that’s been all over the place. They’ve already identified the man in the picture. He’s Sara’s boyfriend.”

  Her boyfriend. Stella looked to Jesse. “It’s all over the place that you got drunk and people had to carry you out.”

  Stella lifted her hat and put it back on her head. “Okay.” She waited.

  Everyone was silent.

  “That’s all you know?” Stella asked incredulously.

  “Yes,” Greg answered. “I got notification that your locator had been activated at 2:45 am. I called George, your father, and Jesse. I believe your father may have lost his mind… He screamed at me like I’ve never heard before. I ended up hanging up on him. Tell him I’m sorry for that. I traveled on Jesse’s plane to DC to pick up George, while Jesse took another plane down to where we thought you were based according to the locator.”

  “I need to call my dad.”

  “I called him as soon as we heard from you, Love.” George hugged her tight.

  They all looked at her expectantly. “Right. Sara drugged me at the bar. I woke up in the backseat of a car not knowing where I was.”

  George squeezed her hand.

  “I maneuvered so that I could turn on the locator. Greg and I had been joking around in his office about testing it and I’d put it on my bra. So I woke up in the backseat of Jamie’s car and was able to activate it without him knowing I was awake. I passed out again. I woke up a couple of hours later and he gave me water. I tried to choke him while he was driving.” She put her hand to her nose. “I’m pretty sure he broke my nose.”

  George ran a finger over her bruises and she leaned into his side.

  “Let’s get out of here. I’ve already booked rooms for us in Key West and arranged for us to leave tomorrow. I’ve got a driver. You can fill us in on the way. You look like you could pass out any minute,” Jesse said.

  Smiling, Stella nodded and scooted out of the booth. “So who’s paying for my really expensive tab? I don’t have my purse.” She didn’t want to show them the money yet, not with Greg there. Stella still hadn’t decided how much of everything she was going to divulge to him.

  Jesse moved toward the bar and threw way too much money on it. “This should cover her tab. Thanks.” Jesse slapped the bar with his massive hand.

  Dennis looked up his stool. “Good luck, Stella.”

  “Thanks, Dennis. Hope you enjoy the boat.”

  His eyes widened. “You’re really giving it to me?”

  “Oh yeah, she’s all yours.”

  “Why?”

  “She smells like clementines,” Stella said as she walked out the door, holding George’s hand. “I hate fucking clementines.”

  Once they were headed south toward Key West, Stella passed out with her head on George’s lap and one hand wrapped around the handle of the leather duffel bag. George ran his hand up and down her body, over and over, so thankful she was there. He carefully uncurled her fingers from around the bag, letting it fall to the floor of the limo.

  “We can’t let him get away with this shit,” George said.

  “We won’t,” agreed Jesse.

  “Well, we need to discuss how she wants to handle this because it puts her in a very precarious legal position,” Greg pointe
d out. “He’s an undercover ATF agent and she’ll be accusing him of kidnapping her for no reason. We don’t have any evidence.”

  George seethed. He knew Jamie was the person who shot Stella; Patrick told him. He was livid she never told him. He didn’t understand why she’d told Patrick and not him. Would she ever be honest with him? Could he live with the fact she had friends she trusted more than him? It made George want to punch someone.

  “Greg, you’re right,” George replied. Thank goodness they had a lawyer as the voice of reason. “We need to wait until she wakes up and see the best way to handle the entire situation.”

  Jesse and Greg chatted the rest of the way to Key West, but George was silent. His anger and relief fought each other. He was so mad at Stella for lying to him, but without her he felt as if his heart would disintegrate. The problem with loving someone and exposing your heart and soul to them is that sometimes they won’t do the same; they won’t open themselves up for the same pain that comes from love. Love only works when the other person loves you back. Stella told him she loved him, but he wondered if that was really true. She made him doubt what he felt for her. He didn’t know where they would go from here. Maybe my mom was right. Maybe someone more stable would be good for me.

  He looked down at Stella, asleep in his lap, and couldn’t imagine his life without her. He closed his eyes and a tear threatened to fall from his eye. George cleared his throat and wiped his face inconspicuously.

  When they arrived at the hotel, he got a key from Jesse and made plans to meet up with them in the morning. He carried Stella all the way to their room, laid her in the plush bed, and slid in next to her, wrapping his arms around her. He didn’t want to ever let her go.

  A door closing woke her from her dreamless sleep. Stella opened her eyes, blinking, trying to remember where she was. Again. The room was dark, only the edge of the curtains allowed a rim of light into the room. Her hand automatically went to the other side of the bed, knowing she would find it empty, and then to her face, which hurt like a bitch. Stella winced as her fingertips felt dried blood and puffy skin. That is going to be ugly. She vaguely remembered getting in the limo yesterday after her calvary had rescued her. Stretching her arms and legs, she yawned and then tried to find the clock. 12:34 pm—she’d slept for 17 hours! She froze—where was the duffel bag? Throwing off the covers, she got up gingerly and walked to the bathroom.

  The light blinded her for a few seconds before her eyes saw her face. Holy ugly motherfucker! It’s no better than yesterday. She smiled at the bruised image of herself. Freedom isn’t free... Humming while she used the toilet, she wondered why George wasn’t here and why he didn’t leave her a note. He’s pissed. After she washed her hands, she soaked a washcloth in hot water. Cautiously, she dabbed at her face and then spread the entire cloth over her face, covering her eyes and nose with the water. She gently pressed the cloth against her nose. The pain threatened to choke her. When she thought she’d gotten all of the blood off her face, she moved the washcloth and looked in the mirror again. Then she laughed. Her face was going to be a little hard to explain.

  Walking around the hotel room, she saw the leather bag partially open against the wall. Fuck, George knows. She spotted a pad by the phone telling her they were staying at Ocean Key Resort. She pulled back the curtains to reveal a crystal clear blue ocean with a day so bright it made her step back. The door opened, interrupting her reverie, and George walked in with lunch.

  “You’re finally up,” George said as he set the food down on the table.

  “Where’ve you been?” she asked, grabbing a fry from the bag and popping it in her mouth.

  “You expected me to be in Key West and stay in the room to watch you sleep?”

  She shook her head and shrugged.

  “Didn’t you get my note?” He walked over to the bed and picked up the notepad he’d written on.

  “No, I just woke up and didn’t see it.”

  “I love this place.” George smiled and kissed her cheek. “You could use a shower, a toothbrush, and deodorant.”

  “This is all I have,” Stella said, making a show of her dirty clothes.

  George set a Banana Republic bag and another clear bag on the table.

  “You bought me stuff?” Stella asked, amazed at his consideration.

  “Well, I couldn’t be seen with you how you look now, could I? I mean you are the ‘FBI Beauty.’” He laughed and took a huge bite of a fried oyster po’ boy.

  “That’s very true,” she said, laughing and looking into both bags. “You know, you never cease to amaze me, Willston George Finnegan.”

  “I hope I never do, Stella Eugenia Murphy.”

  “Why did the media have to tell everyone my middle name?” Stella pouted as she sat across from George and ate her fried conch and fries with a huge caffeinated soda. “When I was little, I would cry the first day of every class because teachers would call out my middle name.”

  “Why did your parents torture you that way?” George joked. “Not that Willston is that great.”

  “It’s after my grandfather.”

  “Well, maybe when we have new lives, you can go by Eugenia.” George continued to stuff his face.

  “Um, I don’t think so. I want to be called Meryl or Marilyn or something exotic, like Vivica.”

  “I like Vivian,” George laughed. “You could wear the red wig I bought you.”

  “You know, you’re my hero,” Stella said sincerely. She peered at him, self-conscious about her face but full of adoration for how he hadn’t even bothered to ask her again what happened. He was waiting for her. Always waiting for her.

  “Oh, you shouldn’t give me credit for this one.” He shook his head. “This was all Jesse. Undoubtedly, you’re really good friends.”

  She raised her eyebrows at him.

  “He had Greg fly in his private jet to get me and he borrowed another plane to fly to Miami and drove Highway 1 looking for you for hours. We ended up meeting him in Key West and drove up and down Highway 1 trying to find you based on the pings off your locator.”

  “Where are Greg and Jesse, by the way?” She popped another fry in her mouth. Stella knew that she owed all her knights in shining armor big time; she’d have to think of some way to thank them.

  “They left around 9:00 this morning. I told them I’d call them when you got up and we figured out what we’re doing and saying. Greg said the media is hounding him about your whereabouts and what happened Friday night, but they don’t really know what happened. He told your parents some cock and bull story about you getting really drunk and losing your phone. You need to call them. Oh, and they haven’t found your car.”

  “Shit,” she said. “Someone better find my car.” She looked out the window thinking about what problem to tackle first. “I don’t have my bag,” she said.

  “You know where it is?” George asked.

  “Maybe I could find it...” She took another bite of her fish. “Let me use your phone.”

  Stella called her parents and explained about losing her phone at the bar. Both parents took turns yelling at her for being so stupid and not calling them sooner. She told them she was trying to get away from the cameras and was going to lay low at Sara’s house for a few days and then going to see George. She apologized for giving them heartburn over the last couple of days and promised she’d let them know when she’d be back. Liar.

  “Let’s go see if we can find my bag. I have the keys to his car, so I know it’ll still be there.” Stella started toward the door.

  “Um, don’t you want to shower?”

  Stella hadn’t showered in three days, but couldn’t imagine waiting any longer to get her purse. “No. I want to find my fucking bag.” She felt an unreasonable need for her gun.

  “El, Love. A five minute shower is not going to change anything,” George said, eyeing her blood-encrusted shirt.

  “Let’s go. The sooner we find it, the sooner you can get me in the shower.” Sh
e smiled at George, her first real smile in months.

  They drove north in the rental car that Greg rented yesterday. The scenery was gorgeous; all you saw on either side was endless ocean. It was warm but not oppressive. Stella’s seat was reclined so she could look out George’s window; that’s where the car would be if they found it. They’d been driving for an hour with no luck.

  “It’s beautiful here,” Stella said, examining the left side of the road.

  “Yeah, it is,” George agreed.

  “You know, George, I’m still stunned by seeing you three come through that door last night. I’ve had a lot of time to think over the past couple of weeks and days. As fucked up as my life is, you make it bearable and even enjoyable. I can’t even tell you how much you mean to me.” Stella chuckled at herself.

  “What?” George asked, rubbing his thumb down her cheek.

  “I want to tell you all these things, but they sound so cheesy. You loved me when I was raw, and ugly, and exposed. You didn’t need me to put on airs about who I was and I never felt like I had to pretend to be someone else, someone you wanted me to be. You saw there was something there. Someone you could love behind the alcohol, the sex, and the walls. You saw through everything. You’re why love songs are written, you know? You know that song I love by Jason Mraz about not giving up? That song is about you. I just know it. You rebuilt me into someone that people can stand. I want to tell you all these things, but then I want to vomit at my cheesiness. I want to tell you with all the problems I have, just having your hand in mine makes everything seem possible. Then I really do vomit.” Stella leaned her head back and laughed. “When I’m with you, you make me feel tough enough to make us last. I’ve thought about how to explain my feelings for you and I can’t; not without wanting to stab my own cheesy eyes out. I can’t imagine my life without you.” She sighed. “This would work so much better if I could sing...”

  “Stel—” he interrupted, gripping her hand in his.

  “I’m almost done.” She stared out of the window of the rental car, unable to look at him. “What I feel is hard to explain, but let me tell you this. When we started seeing each other, I was numb and unfeeling. You broke through that. When I see you, my face changes because I can’t detach it from the way my heart feels. My stomach flips when you touch me. When you’re gone, I don’t have that. I miss you constantly. This hardness that happened after him made me brittle and bitter. You changed all that. You changed everything.”