By a Thread (21 page)

She looked over to right field, where the fielder was talking on her cell phone and drinking a beer. Smiling, she hit the ball directly at the fielder and ran all the way to third base, while the woman ran after the ball with her beer in one hand and her phone in the other. Everyone on her team cheered, she knocked in two runs. The U.S. Marshals were now ahead of the DOJ, FOIA office. She smiled as she bent over putting her hands on her knees for a minute before turning to give their third-base coach a high-five. He was one of the attorneys in her office at the Marshals service.

“Nice work Stella,” Gary, the head of the interns, called from the bench. He was also the coach of the softball team for the Marshals. All the departments of the government had softball teams and they played each other on the fields located at the Mall area of downtown. Their game today was in the shadow of the Washington Monument.

“Thanks,” she smiled. She loved softball and was excited that she could continue to play after college. Even if it was a slow pitch, beer-drinking league. Sam was the third-baseman for FOIA. Playing softball with adults was fun and frustrating at the same time. Stella had been playing some sort of softball since she was six, when her dad starting playing catch with her in their front yard.

“Good hit, Killer,” Sam laughed. He walked over to the base where she stood. “How you been?”

“I’ve had worse days,” she smiled back at him. She ran at the crack of the bat, scoring the winning run for the Marshals. After the game, both teams headed over to a bar south of the Capitol. She ended up sitting in a booth with a couple of the interns. They were chatting about what they had lined up after graduation and she, again, got the feeling of dread. Stella had been sending out resumes and applying to jobs, but nothing had panned out so far. Sam leaned in from the booth behind theirs. “What about you Stella? What are you going to be doing after graduation?”

“Taking the bar,” she said and took a long pull of her margarita.

“You haven’t lined up a job yet?” Sam was looking at her intently.

“Not for lack of trying, Sam.” She smiled feebly.

“Well, let’s do lunch this week, I may be able to help with that.” Sam winked at her and then turned back to his table.

“Thanks,” Stella said to his back. As they were all leaving the bar Sam caught up with her. His cleats were making a clicking-grinding sound as he hurried to catch up with her.

“You want a ride?” Sam jiggled his keys at her and pointed toward his car.

Feeling like it would be rude to say no, Stella smiled. “I don’t want you to go out of your way.”

“I live down that way too. It’s really no problem.”

“Okay, sure. Thanks so much.”

They walked over to his car in comfortable silence. Self-conscience about being so sweaty in his car, she pulled her shorts down as low as they could go on her hips. He didn’t seem to mind getting in his car with his cleats still on. She followed his lead.

“So, you must have played softball before to be such a good place-hitter.” Sam pulled onto the road and headed toward G.W. Parkway.

“Yep, I’ve played since I was five.” Taking in the memorials on the way toward Virginia, she took a deep breath. She loved DC at night; all the monuments lit up were almost breathtaking.

“Let’s grab one more drink before I drive you home.” He looked at her quickly as they drove through Crystal City.

“Oh, I wish I could Sam, but I have so much reading to do for school.” Stella counted the lights they passed and looked longingly at the shortcut to her house as they passed it. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

“Come on, Stella, one drink. You forget I went to law school too. I know your third year all you do is write papers at the end of the semester. We can talk about possible jobs.”

“Okay... one drink.” Her heart sank as he parallel parked in front of Finnegan’s, right behind George’s motorcycle. She drew in a huge breath and steeled herself to play this right.

“So, I haven’t seen you around here lately.” Sam popped open his car door and quickly crossed the street.

“My friend’s boyfriend just opened a bar and we have been over there a bunch.” She lied easily, “Nothing like free beer.”

“Oh.” Sam opened the door for her and she walked through scanning the room, her eyes locking on those grey-green eyes she loved so much. Her stomach flipped a dozen times. “Let’s sit at the bar.” Sam said as he put his hand on her back to guide her.

“I’d rather sit at a table if you are going to tell me how I can get a job...” Stella objected.

“Stella, we are only staying for a drink. I don’t want to mess a table up.” Sam nodded at

George and then smiled. “Hey, Will. Can I get a Guinness? Stella, what do you want?”

Her eyes never left George’s, it was the first time she’d heard anyone call him Will. “A Snakebite please.” George’s eyes were full of many things, anger, concern, and one she couldn’t quite figure out.

“Hi, Stella,” George said stiffly.

“Hi.” She didn’t know what to call him and broke off eye contact with him. He looked good, his hair was a bit longer than usual and he was wearing a red short-sleeve v-neck T-shirt that showed off his biceps.

“Coming right up, Sam.” George moved down the bar and began making their drinks, his eyes pinning her to her seat. Stella felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“I’m going to run to the restroom.” Sliding off the bar stool, she willed herself to walk the distance to the restroom without running. She pushed the door open and stood against the cool wall instead the stall. Taking several big gulps of air, she convinced herself she was fine. “Okay, not a big deal. He’s not even an ex-boyfriend.” Returning to her seat just as George was putting their glasses down, she avoided his stare and looked at Sam.

“So I have a friend at the GC’s office of the FBI. I know someone is leaving in a couple of months and I think if you can get me your resume I may be able to get you the job over there.” Sam lifted his glass and seemingly inspected it.

Stella was baffled. “Really? That’d be so great, I can’t tell you how stressed I am about not having a job.”

Carefully sitting his glass down, he looked into her eyes. “Look, I like you. You seem like a pretty bright person. Plus, I know you must be a good person if Will is so taken with you.” He looked over at George and nodded.

“What do you mean?” Stella was baffled again.

“I don’t know what happened with you two, but I know he is broken up because of you.”

Stella began shaking her head, “No. It’s not me. Believe me, he made it clear what he wanted.”

“Stella. Trust me, the man is in deep. I’m willing to help you out as a favor to him.”

Tracing the cracks in the bar she spoke slowly. “Sam. I really appreciate your help, but I’m afraid you have me mixed up with someone else.”

Sam laughed and shook his head. “Okay then, I’ll forward your resume anyway.” He waved George over.

“Will, how’s it going?”

George smiled and looked at Stella as he answered, “Can’t complain.”

“I was just asking Stella here why she hasn’t been around lately. Do you know that her friend’s boyfriend just opened a bar. She dumped you for free drinks.” Sam looked from George to Stella. “I gotta hit the head. I’ll be back.”

Stella concentrated on her drink.

“Stella, it’s good to see you.” George leaned on his forearms on the bar making his face just inches from hers. “I’ve missed your face.”

“You too,” she answered flustered, that didn’t even make sense. He grabbed her hand and kissed it.

“I need to see you more often, Stella.” He kept using “Stella” like it was stab against her.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea for me.”

The next night, she declined going out and was lounging on the couch watching a really bad reality show. Her dad had told her about the show about some redneck men in Louisiana who had made millions from making duck calls. She had to admit it was pretty funny.

Earlier in the night she had poured her entire bottle of red wine into a tumbler and had been sipping the wine for the last hour from a straw stuck into the glass so she wouldn’t have to sit up to drink. Stella finished her large glass of wine and she closed her eyes. Seeing George the night before had bothered her more than she was going to let anyone know. She couldn’t understand why she still acted like an idiot around the fucker. He was a liar.

There was no reason for him to have lied to her. He was getting laid with no strings. Isn’t that what all men wanted, to be fucked without having to do all the relationship-type things? That wasn’t enough for George, he still lied about everything. She was more confused than ever. Sam had acted like George cared about her, but she knew that he was seeing someone else. It was all so bewildering.

Stella put her Metro card through the turnstile and walked to the platform to wait on her train. She was busy with school and work and had been on about fifteen different interviews, but still hadn’t landed a job yet. Getting rejected for jobs was becoming her least favorite hobby. Her phone rang as she was stepped on the train. It was a DC number that she didn’t recognize.

“May I speak to Stella Murphy, please?” a gruff male voice demanded on the other end.

“This is she.” She moved through the train until she found a seat.

“This is Stan, from the GC’s office for FBI. I wanted to let you know you got the job. Congratulations.”

A weight the size of a Mack truck lifted off Stella and she smiled a genuine smile. “Thank you so much.”

“We’ll be sending you all the paperwork via email. You start the week after the bar exam. See you then.” Stan hung up.

She smiled as she remembered Stan from her first interview with the FBI. He was older and during her interview he had offered her cashews, joked about his office without a window, and made her feel less stupid than most attorneys. He would be her immediate supervisor and during the time she took the bar exam until she got her results, everything she did would be under his name. Initially, she would be doing research projects and responding to claims for damage to personal property under the Federal Torts Claims Act, which was the same thing she did for the Marshals. Stan’s sense of humor was evident at their first interview. He didn’t take himself too seriously, even though he was serious. Stan wouldn’t sugarcoat anything and she knew she would gain invaluable experience from him.

Stella fist-pumped for getting a job and closed her eyes the rest of the ride, listened to Ben Harper, and enjoyed the weightless feeling of having a job.

I haven’t seen you in awhile, ya’ll coming by the bar tonight

No

Why are you avoiding me

busy

Come on

Stella threw her phone across the room and blew her bangs out of her eyes. George had left her alone for awhile, but had been texting and calling her after her visit to the bar with Sam. At first she was just ignoring him, and then decided that was really rude. Closing her eyes, she pictured him naked and asleep in her bed.

Instead of going to Finnegan’s like they had every Friday for years she’d been making everyone go to a different bar down the street. It was fine, but it wasn’t Finnegan’s. It lacked character; it lacked George. She rolled onto the floor from her low platform bed and did ten pushups for thinking about naked George.

She looked up when she heard a creak on the stairs leading to her room.

“George, huh?” Millie was smiling at her doing pushups.

“Of course.” She put herself in child’s pose before sitting on her knees and looking at Millie.

“Have you seen him recently?”

“Just when Sam took me to Finnegan’s a few weeks ago. I was so annoyed.”

“You know I like George. I think you should talk.”

“No way,” Stella sat with her legs crossed, looking up at Millie. “Being rejected from a relationship that I didn’t even know I allowed myself to be in was tough enough. He got tired of me shutting him out. I understand that. I don’t even want to open that door in any way again. It’s only one-nighters from now on... I’ve decided.”

“That’s a great idea,” Millie said sarcastically. “Why can’t ya’ll be friends?”

“Because I don’t want to be friends with George. That never works for anyone, one person always ends up falling in love and being devastated in that situation. Haven’t you seen any romantic comedies?” Stella turned down her music. “Look, I just know that I opened up a little and totally fucked up. So I will go back to not dating or fucking the same person on a routine basis.”

“You’re so stupid, Stella.” Millie came and sat down next to her. “You and George had something real you know. Something to fight for and instead of fighting you bowed out. The first mention of someone else and you said go ahead. SO STUPID.”

“I never said I wasn’t stupid,” she picked at her sweater. “He’s a great guy. He deserves to be happy. I can’t make him happy.”

“You could...” Millie looked at Stella, “You just have to try, El. Why won’t you try?”

“I simply don’t have it in me, Millie. I’m not the girl who gets the guy. The guy dies in my story. The girl is alone.”

“Fuck that, El, change your story. Only you can do that.” She got up, “I’m going to change my story now in Patrick’s room.”

“Ewwwwwwwwwwwww, gross. You keep that story to yourself.” Stella laughed and threw a pillow at Millie. Her phone beeped again as she received a text message.

“You’re more than capable of rewriting your story, El. You just have to do it.”