By a Thread

by R. L. Griffin

  “You know what I mean, shit.”

  She looked at him from the passenger side of his black Audi. His black hair was still military short and his green eyes were looking forward. He was scowling. “Lisa gave you shit about last night?”

  “You told her she should stay at her own place...” He looked at her with disdain.

  “Give me a fucking break, she’s in our house, not hers. She doesn’t like it, she can leave.”

  “Then I wouldn’t get laid and I’d be in an even worse mood.” He finally glanced over at her and smiled. “I had to work a little extra for it last night after that comment.”

  “So sorry to make you have to work for it,” she laughed and pulled up her sports bra so that it wasn’t showing as much cleavage.

  “Whatever, you know I don’t mind coming and picking you up from wherever. It was strange for George to call though right, you weren’t even that drunk.”

  “I mean, maybe he was tired of me taking up space at his bar. I don’t know. I was too drunk to care.” She wrapped her hair into a messy bun with her rubber band and put her armband on so that she could listen to music on her phone while she worked out. “Lisa’s annoying, by the way.”

  “Not that great of a lay either...” Patrick mumbled.

  “Cold bastard this morning,” Stella commented. “Things not working out?”

  “Whatever.” He threw his car into park and jumped out, not wanting to talk about it.

  Stella inspected his face; normally she tried to stay out of Patrick’s personal business. “Why do you even bother, you don’t even like her?”

  “She’s an easy lay, I guess.” Patrick slung his workout bag on his shoulder.

  “What the fuck, Patrick, you could fuck any one you want. You should at least like who you’re fucking.” She shook her head in disgust and went into the female locker room.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Stepping off the escalator at the Pentagon City Metro stop, she hurried the couple of blocks to the nondescript office building where the General Counsel for the U.S. Marshals was housed. Stella was wearing a navy suit with a cream shell underneath and red heels. She signed in and made her way up to the seventh floor. As she pushed the doors open to the lobby she took in the three other law students that were waiting. Checking her watch to make sure she wasn’t late, she smiled at receptionist.

  “Gary will be with you all in a few minutes, okay?” The receptionist was a well-put-together African American women with perfect red lipstick.

  Stella sat down next to a girl about her age with curly red hair and freckles. “Hi, I’m Stella,” she said in a friendly tone.

  “Sarah,” the redhead replied. Sarah was wearing a black suit, black heels, and pearls.

  “Nice to meet you.” Stella looked over to the two guys sitting in the chairs opposite of hers.

  “Jeff,” a guy with dark hair and glasses said.

  “Brian,” the other guy responded. They both wore black suits and blue shirts, Jeff a red tie and Brain a yellow tie.

  After a few minutes, Gary Mathews opened the code-enforced door to the offices behind the receptionist and smiled. He had spiky gray hair and a mustache. “Hey guys. Come on back and let’s get started.” He motioned them in and held the door as they filed inside the offices.

  The morning was filled with paperwork, getting ID cards, and settling into their offices. Stella had one of the four cubicles in the office with the three other interns. They would be handling the backlog of citizen claims against the U.S. Marshals allowed under the Federal Torts Claims Act. Gary had given them each thirty cases to start, with plenty more where those came from once they had a resolution for the initial claims. This was the law that allowed private citizens to recoup money for property damaged by a marshal. Everyone she came in contact with at the office was nice and relatively normal; most attorneys were not normal so she was a little surprised by the overall collegial atmosphere of the office.

  When she took her seat on the Metro for the few stops back to her home and began her short trip, she knew she would enjoy her job with the Marshals.

  Stella and George had been driving each other crazy at least three nights a week for several months. It worked well for Stella because she was so busy with work and law school she didn’t have time to deal with typical relationship bullshit. Stella trusted that George wasn’t with anyone else. He simply didn’t have time. She hoped he trusted her.

  Billy and Patrick were at work. Stella had taken the week of July 4th off work. Initially, she planned on a quick trip to Atlanta, but cancelled at the last minute. Her phone buzzed, it was George.

  Can I come over?

  Stella replied.

  Sure

  George told her he would be there in five minutes. He was presumptuous, she thought. Stella heard him knock on the door. As soon as she opened it he was kissing her, holding her face in his hands. It took her a minute to kiss him back. They moved through the house, not separating. Then he picked her up, putting her legs around his waist and walked down the stairs. He threw her on the bed and ripped his shirt off.

  Stella smiled, “Someone’s happy to see me.”

  “Take your clothes off,” George almost growled.

  After they were done, George was tracing her tattoo and humming. “Come somewhere with me.”

  “Where,” she asked.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “I don’t like surprises,” she answered and then turned over.

  “You’ll like this one, it involves a pool.” His eyes twinkled. “And alcohol.”

  Stella jumped up. “You sold me on pool.”

  She put on a string bikini, shorts, a tank top, and her knee-high boots. Stella smiled because she loved riding on the back of bikes. Her Dad had a Harley and she used to ride with him all the time. They put her bag in one of the bike’s side bags. She swung her leg over and grabbed George’s waist.

  Stella leaned in and whispered/yelled in George’s ear, “I love having you in between my legs.”

  He turned grinning at her and answered, “You keep that up and we’ll never leave here.”

  Stella threw her hands up in surrender. The ride lasted a little more than an hour and Stella closed her eyes and felt the warmth of the sun on her arms on the way. She was surprised to see them pull into a house out in the country, somewhere in Virginia. George punched in a code and the gates opened to let them in. He pulled up in front of what looked like an old plantation house.

  George stopped the bike and put the kickstand down. He got off first, turned to help her take her helmet off, then pulled her off the bike and into his arms. “Having your legs around me like that for so long did things to me,” he nuzzled her neck.

  “Me too,” she answered. Looking up at the house, she asked, “What is this place?”

  “Friend of my dad’s place, they are gone for the week. They said we could stay here.”

  “For how long?”

  “All week if you want,” George took her hand and walked her around the side of the house to the pool area.

  She dropped his hand and ran to the pool. “I’ve missed pools…” She turned around, tore off her shirt and looked at him, “You sure you want to stay with me for a couple of days?”

  “There isn’t anything I want more,” he said smiling.

  “But I only have these clothes to wear.”

  “I’m hoping you won’t be wearing clothes.”

  They ran to the grocery store and picked up a few essentials, then made their way to the pool. Stella was lying on a float in the middle of the pool and George was talking to Hazel about closing the bar tonight. All of a sudden she felt the side of her float lift and she was thrown into the water. She emerged from the water gasping for air and lifted by strong arms.

  “Fuck, George.” Stella sputtered trying to get all the hair out of her face.

  “You know,” George started, but then Stella pushed him under water with all of her weight. He pulled her dow
n with him and kissed her. They drifted to the surface, still kissing.

  “At least I know how I can shut you up now,” she smiled.

  “All you have to do is ask. I’m happy to shut up.” George covered her mouth with his.

  Stella lay on her stomach getting sun with no top on. George was making them lunch. Her phone buzzed, it was Patrick.

  Where are you?

  Stella had gotten so caught up she hadn’t told Patrick where she was. She replied:

  With George back tomorrow morning, I think

  She put her phone back when it buzzed again. Shielding her eyes she read Patrick’s reply:

  U scared the fuck out of me

  She texted back her smartass reply:

  Sorry dad

  U can watch coop, right? I didn’t know I’d be gone

  Patrick replied:

  Always coming to your rescue

  She frowned:

  Thanks

  “Who you texting?” George asked carrying out a tray with meat, cheese, bread, and white wine.

  “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Stella said taking in the feast.

  “I’m there too, you laying around practically naked.” He set the tray down in between the two lounge chairs. “Who you texting?”

  “Patrick, he was pissed I didn’t tell him where I was.” Stella threw her phone under her towel so it wouldn’t get too hot.

  “So you guys are really just friends?” George didn’t look at her as he opened the wine and poured two glasses. “You never… you know.”

  “Um, no. We haven’t.” She grabbed an olive and popped it in her mouth.

  “But, he’s seen you naked.”

  “Well, that’s true,” she said, thinking the best way to respond to this. “I don’t really care who sees me naked,” she said like a question.

  “What do you mean?”

  Stella blushed, but she didn’t know why. “I get drunk and get naked.” She shrugged her shoulders.

  “You get naked?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “Yep,” she answered and put blue cheese on a cracker.

  “Like, just sit around naked?”

  “Could be,” she answered.

  “Billy’s seen you naked?”

  “Yep.” She took a gulp of her wine.

  “Millie?”

  She nodded her head.

  “And here I was thinking I was special,” George took a drink of the wine. “That’s pretty good.”

  “Oh, but you are special, George.” Stella got up and walked over to him, kissing him on his jaw line. “I let you see me naked when I’m sober.”

  George bent to her and kissed her caressing her breasts. “Only me, right?”

  “Only you,” she whispered.

  “I don’t like other guys have seen you naked. It kinda makes me crazy.”

  “George, my roommates have seen me passed out naked on my bathroom floor.” Stella walked over to her lounge chair and sat down. “Not too attractive, believe me. They don’t see me like you see me. They see me as their drunken sister. They have seen me at my worst.”

  “I want to see you at your worst. I want to see you all the time.” George reached out and held her hand.

  “You’ve seen me at my worst, just not the entire picture. The first year I met you was the worst time of my life. I’m amazed anyone that knew me then wants to talk to me. Patrick basically saved my life.”

  “I want to know everything about you, Stella,” George leaned in and kissed her gently.

  “No you don’t.” Stella grabbed salami and cheese, stuffing it in her mouth.

  “Oh, but I do. I want to know about your dreams, your nightmares, and most of all I want to know when you’re going to admit you love me.”

  She pushed herself off the lounge chair and pulled on her tank top at the same time. “You think you know me! You don’t know shit about me George. If you did, you would know that I won’t admit to loving you because I can’t.” She ran to the house to get away from him.

  George caught her by her arm, “If you didn’t care about me you wouldn’t be so pissed off,” he said gently.

  “Of course I care about you.” Stella was so frustrated a tear fell down her face. “I can’t give you what you want. I don’t have a heart to give you,” she said beating on her chest. “Take me home, George.”

  “No can do love, I’ve been drinking,” he said smiling. “You think you’re the only one who has had loss, pain and despair? That’s ridiculous. You’re a smart girl, El, you know that’s not true. You don’t have a monopoly on baggage or pain.”

  George calm demeanor pissed Stella off even more. “Don’t fucking condescend to me.” She snatched her arm out of his reach, and grabbed an unopened bottle of wine and the corkscrew on her way through the kitchen.

  “This is what happens when you love someone Stella. You argue, fight, yell, and then make up. You can convince yourself all you want, but I know you.”

  “I CAN’T,” she cried and ran upstairs. She locked herself in a guest bedroom. Taking a quick look around she sighed, no television. Shit! She opened the bottle and turned it up.

  George knocked on the door. “I’m going to sit here, with my back to this door, love, until you come make out... I mean make up with me,” he said amused.

  “Fuck you,” she yelled and slid down the door with her bottle of wine. She tipped it up. “You know George, if you did know me, you would know how stubborn I am.”

  “You know me and you know how stubborn I am, so this should be fun.” He turned up his own drink.

  Hours later Stella woke up after drinking the entire bottle of wine and passing out. It was quiet and dark and she needed to pee. She opened the door and saw George slumped on the wall next to the door. She padded down the hall to the bathroom, relieved to have made it without peeing herself. When she opened the door she ran smack into George’s solid chest.

  “You ready to make out yet?” he smiled sleepily.

  “You mean make up, right?” Stella asked, not looking at him.

  “No, I mean make out.” He ran his hand over her hair, then down her back leaving his hand on her tattoo.

  “I can’t give you what you want,” Stella whispered.

  “I disagree.” He kissed her lips gently.

  “I’m not whole. I can’t love you like you should be loved.” Tears falling down her face, she buried her face in his chest.

  “Hey,” George pulled her back so that she was looking at him. “I’m stubborn and patient.”

  “I ...” He kissed her, not leaving it up to debate. George cradled her and carried her up to the room they were sharing.

  She woke up in his arms and felt sad. Somehow she felt it was the beginning of the end, George was well aware she couldn’t be who he wanted.

  “Stop over thinking it, my smart girl.” George turned her to face him. “We’re good.”

  “You’re good with having 50 percent of me?” Stella rubbed her thumb over his jaw. “This is all so unforeseeable.”

  “I love it when you talk lawyer to me.” He kissed her, “I’ll settle for 75 percent, for now.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The week before her last year of law school started, they had a big lunch for the other interns that were finishing their summer stint with the Marshals. Linda Morgan, the General Counsel, had addressed all of them. Stella was impressed that a woman was in the position of General Counsel of the department. However, she was stunned when Ms. Morgan got glassy-eyed at the table talking about the sacrifices she made to obtain the position. It was evident she was bitter that she pursued her career instead of a family. Because Stella was so young and there was not a prospect of family for her, she hadn’t even thought about the sacrifices woman made to advance their career. If she and Jamie had gotten married, she guessed those sorts of issues would be on her mind.

  She’d grown to really like Sarah, they were pretty opposite on most things, but Sarah was so honest and genuine she wa
s hard not to like. Sarah had been in DC only for the summer; she attended University of Virginia law school and was already back. All four of them had gotten close eating lunch together each day and working in the same office for nine hours a day. Stella liked the casual sarcastic banner that was steady from the time they got there until they left in the evening. She was going to miss having them around. She didn’t know if she was going to enjoy the office as much without them.

  Each of the other interns had left their remaining open files on her desk and her chair with witty notes on them for her entertainment. She’d also found little post-it notes from Sarah on everything in her cubicle. Smiling, she piled them all in a drawer in her desk.

  Jamie had been gone for three years. She was starting her last year of law school and it was all very surreal. The sound of a motorcycle revving coming from her phone made her smile. “Hi, Dad.”

  “You ready?”

  “Of course,” she answered. She and her Dad spoke most mornings, but especially the first day of school every year.

  “What classes you taking this semester?”

  “Working for the Marshals gives me credits for a class, a Seminar on Secrecy in Government and a clinic in Administrative Law,” she answered. A clinic was a class in law school that was more practical that a typical class. Professors usually had practicing attorneys come in to each class and then there was a mock trial at the end of class.

  “Well, I’m not going to pretend to know what any of those classes will entail. I’m sure you’ll do fine.” He cleared his throat.

  “So, you’ll never guess who I ran into the other day?”

  “Who’s that?” Stella was driving up Massachusetts Avenue and appreciating all the embassies on both sides of the road.

  “Sara.”

  “Sara who?”

  “Jamie’s sister.”