By a Thread (17 page)

Stella swore she would never be one of those people who wore running shoes on the Metro, then changed into her heels at the office, but her feet were killing her today. She was wearing a black dress and tights with her running shoes while she made her way through Metro Center. She took the escalator up and navigated through the G Street rush hour pedestrian traffic. Making her way into a nondescript building, she took the elevator to the seventh floor.

Working with Marshals this semester she’d been dealing with some requests under the Freedom of Information Act. She had a meeting with an attorney from the Department of Justice, Office of Information and Privacy, which was the department that dealt with these sorts of requests. Everyone in DC simply called the office FOIA. Currently, she was working on a FOIA request regarding a prisoner transfer that ended in the prisoner escaping and leading the Marshals on a two-day search. Stella was sent over to their office to collect documents that were redacted in order to produce them to a reporter.

While on the elevator she had just enough time to step out of her running shoes and slip into black stiletto heels. As the doors opened, she was stuffing her shoes in her bag.

She hit the call button. “Keith, it’s Stella.”

“Hey, Stella,” a slight African American male greeted and pushed the button to let her in the reception area.

“Hey, Keith.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. “You got anything for me yet?”

He frowned, “No, was I supposed to?”

“Hmm, could you call Annie and ask if those documents are ready for me?” She hovered as Keith made a call.

“Okay, I’ll send her up.” Keith hung up the phone and looked at up at her. “Annie said that Mr. Erickson wanted to talk to you before you left with the documents.”

That was odd, she thought. “Oh, okay.”

“Do you know where his office is?”

“No.” She hoped it was close, her feet felt broken.

“Okay, get back in the elevator and go up to seventeen. I’ll let them know you are coming.”

Fuck... Fuck... Fuck...
Her feet hurt just standing, let alone walking to Sam Erickson’s office. He was one of the Assistant Directors of the FOIA office. The office had about twenty-five attorneys in all. She was buzzed into the office immediately as she stepped off the elevator. Pam, Mr. Erickson’s secretary, was waiting on her.

“Hi Stella. Mr. Erickson wanted to see you real quick before you head back, okay.” She was already walking so Stella hurried to follow her. She pointed toward an office door that was closed. “In there,” she said, without slowing her pace.

Stella slowed and stood at the closed door. She’d not prepared herself for this meeting. Taking a deep breath she reminded herself it wouldn’t be a big deal, she was simply a law clerk. There wouldn’t be anything important he would want to talk to her about.

She put a smile on her face, knocked on the open door and entered his office. Looking around his office, she took in the sports memorabilia on the wall and his law degree, which was framed and sitting on the floor propped against the wall.

“Hey...” he paused and looked out the window for a second.

“Stella,” she prompted. There was no reason for him to know her name, it didn’t hurt her feelings.

“I know,” he glared. “I asked you in here because I wanted to know if you thought of any other exemptions or exceptions for the documents we are producing this week.”

She shrank into herself. “No sir, I’ve been working with your team and the Marshal’s office and I think we have them all covered.”

“Good,” he smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. He wasn’t wearing a ring and was very attractive. His copper hair was cut pretty close to his head and was on the verge of turning gray. He had taken off his jacket already and had his tie casually thrown around his neck. Not even taking the time to tie it prior to getting started on his day. “Have you enjoyed your time working with us?” He didn’t look at her, but at something out the window.

“Sure,” she said. “Everyone has been really helpful.”

“Are you planning on staying with the Marshal’s office after your internship?”

She sighed, she really didn’t know what she was going to do. “I would like to, but they don’t have any openings,” she said vaguely.

“Staying in the area?’ he asked.

“I hope so,” she examined him.
Where was he going with this?

“You applying for this office?” He finally looked at her.

“No sir,” she smiled feebly.

“Good,” he exhaled a breath it look liked he had been holding. “Let me buy you a drink sometime.”

“Excuse me?”
This was very unexpected
. “A drink?”

“You drink alcohol, right? I’ve seen you at Finnegan’s?”

OH SHIT
. “Then you know I drink if you have seen me at Finnegan’s.”

“You seem to have a good time wherever you go, Stella.”

She really needed to sit down now. “I try.”

“We can meet at Finnegan’s if you want. I know the owner. Pretty good guy. He’s doing what he can with the place since his father died.”

“Well, I would rather meet somewhere closer to the office if you don’t mind.”

“I live near Finnegan’s so let’s do something in Old Town. I assume you live down there as much as I see you at Finnegan’s.” He smirked at her.

“You’re right, I live down there.” She gleaned from his smirk he had seen her in her many stages of intoxication. She cringed. “Why don’t we meet at the Fish Market?” she said, trying to think of anywhere other than Finnegan’s. She didn’t want to rub George’s face in her grabbing a drink with another person.

“How presumptuous of you?” He glanced at his watch, his lips turning up at the corners, and started tying his tie. “I didn’t ask you to dinner.”

“We don’t have to eat,” she answered. Turning on her heel, she left.

George slipped into Stella’s bed and wrapped himself around her. When she woke up in the middle of the night she reached around him and made him face her, “What’s up?”

“What do you mean,” George smiled at her and kissed her gently, tugging on her bottom lip.

“Stop, you are distracting me.” She pushed back from his chest and felt his hands moving up her thighs. “Seriously,” she faded and leaned her head back.

“I missed you,” he kissed her neck and behind her ear.

“Bullshit,” she whispered as she decided to give in.

He was gone in the morning before they could talk.
Damn it,
she thought. That was two nights in a row. She will not engage in a relationship with a bartender. Not even a sexy bartender who knew how to make her scream his name. She sighed and pulled on her spandex, sports bra, and running shoes. When she looked up Patrick was standing in her room. “FUCK,” she exclaimed, nearly jumping as high as the ceiling.

“Oh, sorry. I thought you heard me come in.” He walked in a few more steps.

“Not cool. You didn’t even knock, ass. I could have been naked.” Stella headed up the stairs and grabbed a bottle of water.

“Let’s run outside today,” Patrick said casually.

“I need to do legs and triceps today,” Stella answered.

“Do them tomorrow. Let’s run, I need to talk.”

“Okay, something I should be worried about?” Stella pulled out her phone and put it in her armband. She searched her workout bag for her ear buds. “Coop, come,” she called as she and Patrick moved toward the door.

“Long or short?” Patrick asked.

“Long, I’ve been drinking too much.” Stella turned to the right and started jogging, holding on to Coop. “You get Coop on the way back.”

“Sure.”

Patrick ran toward the dog park as usual, Stella didn’t put her ear buds is so they could talk. They were silent for the first couple of blocks. “So, what’s up?” Stella asked as they turned left onto King Street.

“Well, I broke up with Lisa,” Patrick said, staring straight ahead.

“Really...” Stella wasn’t surprised.

“You were right.”

“Really?” He never admitted when she was right, or she hadn’t been right in a very long time.

“Yes, okay. I didn’t need to subject myself to her for sex. I can get that from someone more amiable.” Patrick finally turned and looked at her, smirking.

“That’s not what I said,” she replied. Stella knew Lisa was not the woman for Patrick, but she didn’t want to be blamed for their breakup.

“Sure it is.”

“No, I just wondered why you were with her when you don’t even like her.”

“You didn’t have problem sleeping with her before.” Stella shook her head. “What changed?”

“Nothing changed. You just made sense for once.”

They ran in silence for a few blocks. “So you wanted to tell me to do the same thing with George, right?” Stella smiled, figuring out Patrick’s game. “You’re something else, you know?”

“I’m not telling you anything, except that you made sense when you told me to break up with Lisa when all I was doing was fucking her.” Patrick looked straight ahead, his expression stoic.

“That’s not what I said, asshole. I said why fuck someone you don’t even like to be around them. Everyone likes George.” Stella started to get angry.

Patrick stepped up his pace, leaving Stella trailing him. She thought about George, his dimple making her mouth curl up automatically. She stepped up her stride and got even with Patrick.

“I like George and I like fucking him, okay!” Stella blurted out.

“I haven’t said one word to you about you. You’ve been inferring shit.” Patrick turned around and headed back up King Street. “Seems like you need to reassess what you’re doing.”

“George and I have nothing to do with you and your ex-girlfriend.”

“That’s right, my girlfriend. Is George your boyfriend now?” Stella stopped running and put her hands on her hips.

Patrick stopped running, turned to look at her, winked, and started running again.

The Woods Brothers crooned through Stella’s speakers as she waited for George to get out of the shower. He had come over after his shift at the bar. She was looking through her closet when she felt his strong arms around her hugging her into his chest. George’s hips swayed with the beat of the song, Stella laid her head back on his chest and exhaled.

“How was your day, dear?” Stella could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Okay. I am working a big FOIA request for the Marshal’s and we are having really long boring meetings with other DOJ departments all week.” Stella moved her hands to his hips. George pulled her around so that she was facing him, still swaying with the music.

“Who’s requesting documents?”

“You would know about FOIA requests, I had forgotten you used to be a reporter.” She put her head on his pecs that were still damp from his shower. “Do you miss it?”

“Every fucking day,” George ran his right hand over her hair smoothing it back.

“Why did you leave it?” Stella looked up into his eyes.

“Too complicated a story for now...” He kissed her.

“Okay,” Stella put her arms around his waist and leaned into him, she wasn’t one to push anyone into talking about things they didn’t want to.

“What are you doing Sunday?”

“Just reading for school, why?”

“I just thought maybe we could do something not in this bedroom...”

Stella ran her hands down his stomach into his towel, the only thing he was wearing. “Why?” She asked as she pulled the towel off and smiled at him.

When Sunday rolled around, Stella was reading on the back porch after her run with Cooper. Her phone beeped, showing a message from George.

Get in the shower and be ready in an hour

She replied.

ready for what

George texted back immediately.

For me

Stella smiled. She finished reading the case she was in the middle of then went to “get ready” for George. She was pulling a long sleeve shirt over her jeans when he walked down the stairs. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he put both hands in her hair and kissed her roughly.

“Well,” Stella said flustered, smoothing her hair back.

“Come on,” George grabbed her hand and started pulling her upstairs. He stopped abruptly, “put on your grey knee-high boots.”

“Why?” Stella asked, looking down at her wedges.

“Please, I’m asking nicely.” George’s thumb stroked her palm.

“Oh you like those, huh?”

“Yes, I do.” Leaning his head down, George brought her hand to his lips.

While Stella changed her shoes, George let Cooper outside and looked out the window.

“El, are you headed home for Thanksgiving?” he called, watching Cooper run around the backyard.

“No… I don’t know. I pretty much never go home, unless there is an emergency.” She stood up and smoothed her jeans down. “Better,” she asked.

“Why not?”

“I just don’t feel like it’s home anymore.” Stella walked up behind him and circled her hands around his waist from the back.

“Will you spend Thanksgiving with me and my family?” George was still looking outside, waiting for Cooper to make his way back to the door, holding her hands.

“George...” Stella backed up from him, pulling her hands from his. He grabbed her hand and looked at her; she shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Why El, why can’t you just do this one thing for me?” His eyes were pleading with her.

“One thing,” Stella fired back at him. “It’s been a string of one things... I feel like I’m falling.”

“Some people think that’s a good thing, El. The falling…” He kissed her hand, “I think that’s a good thing. Let’s fall together.” Seeing her shut down, he pulled her up the stairs. “Let’s go.”

He opened the front door and his motorcycle was parked in the driveway. “Where we going?” A knot was forming in Stella’s stomach.

“You’ll see.” George responded. Pulling her down the stairs, he lifted her up over the bike and used care in securing her helmet. Gently he kissed her lips, then her forehead. They headed to 95 North, Stella’s legs squeezing George and her arms wrapped around his waist. The wind whipping around her helped her forget the knot in her stomach, spreading through her chest. They pulled into the National Harbor and parked easily. Stella had never been here.

George grabbed her around the waist and helped her off his bike. “Let’s grab something to eat.” He pulled a blanket out of one of the hard bags on the side of his bike and draped it over his shoulder. He grabbed her hand and led her over to a restaurant called Freshii. They ordered lunch to go. George never dropped her hand. Stella was headed in the direction of pure panic.

George led her to the grass that surrounded a statue called
the Awakening
. There were five pieces of metal buried in the ground that looked like a giant was attempting to escape out of the dirt. The giant’s bearded face in mid-scream was struggling to get out of the ground.

“Wow,” Stella sat on the blanket that was spread out. She set her salad down and stared at the giant. “That’s what I feel like sometimes.”

“Me too,” George bit into his sandwich. “I think it’s normal to feel like that. I mean, for me it is.”

Before Stella could stop herself she asked, “Why do you feel like this?” She pointed to the giant’s face.

“Several reasons, El.” He watched her open her salad and take a bite. “I used to love what I did. Now I’m stuck in a job I never wanted.”

“Oh my God, this is so good.” Her eyes rolled back. George smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m glad you like it.”

She took the rubber band off her wrist and put her windblown hair into a bun. “Maybe it is normal to feel stuck and trying to get free, but can’t.” She looked back at the giant. “I’ve never really asked anyone.”

“Maybe you should.” George tucked an errant hair behind her ear.

“No. That leads to discussions about feelings, of which I have none.” She stared at the giant, wondering how long she could continue to convince herself she was still numb. George, with his dimples and expert hands, had awakened her. She was fighting it with every ounce of her being. Numbness was all she could handle right now, anything else scared the shit out of her. “So don’t ask, George.”

“One day El, one day you will trust me.” George turned back to his sandwich.

Stella looked up at the sky while she lounged on the blanket. “For every piece of me that wants to let go with you, George, there is a piece that’s telling me to run far from you. George, I trust you. Believe me, I trust you more than I have anyone...”

“Except Patrick and Millie?”

“Actually, I trust you about as much as Millie. I don’t tell her things either. She is okay with that, just like you.”

“And Patrick?”

“I don’t have to talk to Patrick. He already knows everything.”

“What does he know?” George pressed, looking out at the water.

“Don’t.” Stella leaned in and kissed his neck gently. “I’m having such a good day, let’s just enjoy it. Why do you feel stuck in your job?”

“Because someone has to pay the bills, right? It always comes down to money, right?”

“That’s true,” she said slowly. “What bills?”

“My family’s,” he sighed. George ran a hand over his shaved head. “Someone has to buy the picnic baskets and blankets, right?”

“Your family?” she asked perplexed.

“My mom and three sisters,” he answered.

“You have three sisters, good God.”
How did I not know this,
she thought
.

“Right?” He smiled, “I’m the oldest and as you know my dad died, so someone has to take care of them.”

She took another bite of food, wondering why his sisters couldn’t take care of themselves. Keeping her mouth shut, she leaned back against him. Who was she to have an opinion as to what was normal?