R. Griffin - Seamless

“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.”

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 have 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.”