By a Thread (15 page)

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.”

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 was 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.”

Stella remained quiet.

“You okay?”

“Sure.”

“She asked about you. I told her you were still in school. She said she tried to contact you a couple of times, but you’ve never responded.”

“Dad…”

“I’m just saying, Stella. She cares about how you’re doing.”

“I’m glad you told her I was fine then.” Stella cleared her throat. “Listen, I’m pulling into the school. We’ll talk later,” she said, cutting off the conversation.

After several weeks of attending her last year of law school, Stella could agree that the third year of law school was a huge snorefest. Her classes were interesting, but they were all papers, so no big pressure to keep up with reading or stress about a final. She was still working for the Marshals and that kept her occupied most of the time. Stella felt almost normal. One Saturday, Patrick and Billy invited some of their friends over for the Penn State football game that night and she was trying to figure out if she was going to make herself scarce or what. She was checking her email when she heard her name called from the stairs. Stella put her laptop down and walked over to stairs.

Walking down the stairs was Cory, the manager at the tattoo parlor where she and Patrick get their tattoos. He had a tight Penn State shirt on with jeans hanging low on his hips. “Hey Stella.” He kissed her on the cheek.

“Hey, Cory. What’s up?”

“I was wondering if I could take that picture of your tat? We’ve been trying to get it forever.” He pointed at his camera and looked around, trying to find a good background.

“Oh, sure.” She’d told Richard they could put up a picture of her tattoo after she got it done and hadn’t found the time to go back.

“You got any clear wall space?” Her room was covered with poster and pictures. “I love
Fight Club
,” he said as he passed the movie poster on her wall.

“Um, just over the bed,” she blushed. Cory was good looking and had quite the reputation as being a ladies’ man.

“Okay, let’s go over there.” Cory walked the length of the room in to the cubby where her unmade bed was positioned. “This will work.”

“Okay,” Stella was a little uncomfortable, but followed him.

“Take your shirt and bra off.” He was messing with his camera and didn’t see the look on her face until he looked up. “Oh come on, I won’t bite.” Cory smiled.

“Okay, just hurry. I don’t want to be down here shirtless for too long.”

“I’ve never heard that one before.” Cory laughed and started clicking the camera attempting to get lighting and flash right.

Stella pulled her sweater over her head, she wasn’t wearing a bra. “Where do you want me?”

“Wow, Stella.” Cory cleared his throat, “Get on the bed and face the wall.”

She gave him a look of caution. Covering her boobs, she got on her knees and faced the wall.

“Okay, take your pants off.”

Stella burst out laughing. “Negative. Take your fucking picture and hurry up.”

“Kay, seriously... Turn your entire body to face the wall, but look over your left shoulder. Don’t look at the camera though.”

Stella did as he asked and looked to the side. She held her left hand over her nipples and right hand straight down. Cory moved around taking a million shots, giving her instructions.

“El?” She hadn’t heard George come down the stairs, but he was staring at her with murder in his eyes.

“George...” she breathed. “What’re you doing here?”

“Sorry to interrupt,” he growled with teeth gritted together.

Cory seeing the look George was giving him held his hands up. “Oh no, man, wrong idea.”

“The idea that you are taking a picture of El with no top on is wrong?” George was clenching and unclenching his fists looking from Cory to Stella.

“George. Cory is from the tattoo parlor. I agreed when I got my tattoo that I’d let them they display it at the shop. Cory was just taking those pictures.” She was climbing off the bed still covering herself.

“You can leave,” George told Cory, not looking anywhere but at Stella.

Cory looked at Stella, she shrugged. He held up his hands. “I think I got a couple of good ones. I’ll email you. Thanks Stella.”

“Tell Richard no problem,” she smiled weakly and then glared at George.

Cory had just turned the corner of the stairs when George pounced on her. He pushed her on the bed and claimed her as his own.

“I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this.” George caressed her breasts and then kissed each one.

“George, I didn’t know he was coming or you either for that matter.” She gasped as he continued to kiss her roughly making her body feel like it was on fire. She moaned loudly, “We can’t.”

“We are,” George pulled her jeans down and was kissing her hip bones moving farther south.

“There are a ton of people upstairs,” Stella was having difficulty collecting her thoughts. “I don’t have a door...”

George picked her up and moved quickly into the bathroom, kicking the door closed. “El, tell me it’s only me.”

Stella gasped as he shoved her against the wall and struggled with his pants. “You,” she couldn’t get out anything else as he was touching her everywhere.

“You what,” he demanded.

Stella legs were wrapped tightly around him as he was having his way with her. “Only you,” she barely whispered.

“Say it again, Love, say it again.” His mouth moved against her ear.

“Only you, George,” Her brain was hurting from him making her so vulnerable. She didn’t want to lay it out there, but it was so hard to think with him inside her.

“Good.”