Tension (39 page)

Stella scrunched her face together, thinking. “I don’t really do pink.”

“I can see that.” Millie walked down to the area that Stella held all her shirts and shells that went under her suits. “You have red, blue, green, black, and white. No pink? No pastel?” Millie’s tone was mocking.

“You’re shocked, right?” Stella asked, laughing.

“Very.”

“Okay, but here’s the problem. I have to wear my black heels. I won all three of the hearings I had while I was wearing them.”

“You’re superstitious?” Millie asked, surprised.

“Oh yeah, when I played ball I only had three pairs of underwear and two sport bras that I would wear for games.”

“That’s weird.”

“No, it’s not. Most athletes are superstitious about certain things, whether it’s the same process a pitcher goes through for each pitch or batting gloves. Jesse will only wear a particular brand of sock.”

“I didn’t play sports in school.”

“So, I have to wear something that I can wear black heels with…” Stella reiterated.

“Hmmm.” Millie walked back down to the skirts and suits. “What about this grey suit? You could wear your black heels, but still put the pretty pink shirt we’re going to buy under it.”

“Ugh, I so am not looking forward to this, Mil.” Stella walked out of the closet and sat on the bed. Millie followed her, sitting next to her and draping her arm across Stella’s shoulders.

“This is going to be hard, El. You don’t have to do it by yourself. You know that, right?”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. I’ll be fine.”

“El, I’m sure you’ll be fine, but I don’t mind going with you. I know George would go, even Patrick.”

“No. This is something I need to do by myself. It’s up to me to do this.”

“Everyone needs help sometimes, El.”

“Oh yeah? When have you needed my help, Millie?” Stella looked at her, eyebrows raised. Stella felt all she’d done for years was ask for help; she needed to do this herself. She’d leaned on Patrick the entire first year after Jamie “died.” Millie had taken care of the media requests after she was shot. She asked George for everything. He took a chance with her and she was hoping his investment in her would pay off. She wanted to be what he wanted, what he needed.

“You never cease to amaze me with your jackassness. Have I told you lately that for a smart person, you’re really fucking stupid?” Millie gave Stella a squeeze on the shoulders and stood up. “Good luck. Call me if you need me, seriously. And don’t forget the pink shirt.”

“Jackassness? That’s not even a word.”

Millie just laughed.

“You know what it means, though, don’t you?”

Stella got up and walked Millie down to the door. “Thanks, Mil.”

“It’s cool to see the place photographer-free.”

“Yeah, it’s been really nice, but Greg called the other day and he’s had a couple of reporters call because of the trial coming up. They want to do interviews.”

Millie’s eyebrows shot up. “You doing any?”

Stella shook her head. “No way.”

“You should probably do one.”

“That’s exactly what Greg said.”

“I vote for Diane Sawyer. I love her.”

“Maybe. If I do an interview, you have to come with me.”

“Of course, El.” Millie gave a quick wave and put her dark sunglasses on as she walked to her car.

George knew the fight was coming; Stella was tired of being treated like she was breakable. She’d shown everyone how tough she was. Wanting to prove it again, to herself more than anyone else, she told him he wasn’t going with her to Montana.
The hell he wasn’t.
He argued his points with her, knowing she would never give in. He let her think she won the argument, but there was no way in hell he was letting her do this by herself. Her parents had fallen for her act, but then again, Stella didn’t tell them she was headed to Montana. They would see it on television, just like everyone else. And be pissed. He put her in a cab, leaving her thinking he’d be waiting for her at home when she was done.
Like hell.

He almost missed his flight because he was moving a huge crate of clementines someone had delivered to Stella. He was cutting it close anyway, and hoped he would get there prior to her testimony.

He was sitting in the back on the government’s side of the courtroom when she entered. She looked beautiful, but different than when they first fell in love. Her hair was shorter, making the features on her face appear different, sharper. There was fierceness in her eyes that wasn’t evident before. Where muscles were once abundant, she was now skinny. The media reported that she’d had a makeover so that she would be taken more seriously. That wasn’t it at all. She’d changed her appearance to get away from it all. The long raven hair that was so identifiable, the muscular frame that everyone talked about; she’d changed it all.

He didn’t mind the changes, because she was still the same stubborn, willful, fun woman he had fallen in love with. His love had expanded to this new person, in looks and in fierceness. Her job changed her as well, but more in a superficial way. Because her clients were high end, she’d used her first couple of paychecks to buy designer suits and those killer heels she was wearing now.

Her testimony on direct was pretty short and limited to what she observed that day. The defense attorney punched holes in her memory, which she refuted. He tried to assail her character based on the reports in the media. The prosecutor objected on the questions and the majority of them were sustained, but the damage of putting the media coverage before the jury was done.

George could see the rage brewing beneath the surface of Stella’s eyes. The question that’d almost made her lose it was when the defense attorney said, “Based on the media reports, it appears that you should be thanking my client, not testifying against him. You’ve got a great job and you’re basically a celebrity. Is there anything I’m missing about your recollection of that day?”

Rage flickered in her eyes before she smiled, calming as the prosecutor objected.

“Now that you mention it, I think you may be right. Thank you, Mr. Holmes, for ripping my clothes off and almost raping me. Thank you for getting me shot and almost killing me. Thank you for giving me a reminder of you and your two friends. Thank you for the scars that cover my chest and are still bright red. Thank you for the pain I feel every day. Thank you for making my boyfriend and my parents carry me to the bathroom for weeks after I was shot.”

The judge cleared his throat. “Ms. Murphy.” He didn’t need to say anything else, his intention was clear.

Stella smiled sweetly. “Sorry, Your Honor.”

George could tell she wasn’t.

She laughed at the irony; this had to be one of the worst days of her entire life. Her life mirrored a soap opera. It was hard to be a lawyer and be on the witness stand. It was tough to be examined about everything you saw over a year ago. It was tough to relive those things she’d vowed that she would forget and put out of her mind forever; those feelings she tried to hide and get past had been thrown in her face by the defense attorney.

The vulnerable feelings, especially, were the worst feelings in the world. That day in Montana, she’d never been so scared in her life. First she thought she’d be raped and then she thought she would die. Those are feelings she didn’t want to revisit, ever. She didn’t blame him; he was doing his job, but that didn’t make her day any better.

Driving back to her hotel, she allowed herself thirty seconds to cry. Then she moved on.

She and George had an argument before she left. She refused to admit she wanted him with her; she knew he had work to do. They’d fought until she left for the airport, she didn’t even let him drive her; she took a cab. She never took a cab. They were both so stubborn, refusing to give in. Her flight out of Montana was tomorrow morning. Ms. Peterson hadn’t known what time she’d be done testifying, so the government booked a flight for tomorrow. She wished she could leave now.

Walking into the hotel, she texted George.

are you ready to make out, i mean make up?

Stella pressed the up arrow on the elevator three times in her irritation. When the elevator finally opened, she rushed in, hit four, and leaned her entire body against the wall. She closed her eyes, waiting on the doors to shut. Just as she heard the whir of the doors closing, it stopped and the sound of someone in the way of the doors replaced the whir. She opened her eyes and saw him. Her jaw dropped.

“We can make out now if you’d like, Love.” George smiled.

“How... why...” she sputtered.

“Because you needed me.” George closed the gap between them and kissed her. “You did great, by the way.”

“You were at the trial?”
Of course he was at the trial
. She was so dumb, thinking he bought her “I’m fine, I want to do this myself” façade. He followed her down the hall to her room, carrying a small leather duffel bag. Stella unlocked the door and he followed her in. “How do you do that?”

George threw the bag on the floor by the bed and then plopped down on it, stretching out. “Do what, Love?”

“Know me better than I know myself.”

“Oh, that?” The smirk on George’s face was both irritating and welcome. “I just do. It’s a fact, you know. I know when you lie to yourself, even when you don’t know it. We’re connected and I’ll always know. We were meant to be.” He pointed at her chest and then his. “You and me.”

Stella got on the bed and crawled up the length of his body. “I’m glad you ignore me sometimes, but don’t make it a habit.” She made it to his face and kissed him slowly, the heat between them igniting. Stella lay on George’s side and nuzzled his chest. “Where’s Cooper?”

“Patrick’s watching him.” George answered. “You okay?”

“Now I am.”

George felt Stella stirring beside him and pulled her into him.

“Hmmmm,” she said sleepily, not opening her eyes.

“Love,” George whispered as he kissed her neck. Stella leaned her head back, giving him all the permission he needed. He kissed the left side of her neck and licked until he got to the middle of her exposed neck. He planted a kiss there, too.

“Someone woke up ready to go,” Stella observed in a low voice. She laughed and flipped over, facing him. “I didn’t have a nightmare.”

“I noticed,” George said. “You feel safe?”

“I do feel safe with you.” Stella sighed and looked at him. “But, don’t ever think everything is over, George. That’s when shit gets bad.” She rolled over and knocked on the wooden table next to the bed and then used her hand to motion for him to do the same. “Do it.”

George laughed. “You’re so superstitious.”

“Better safe than sorry,” she said. “Now, where were we?” She scooted back into him so that were just inches apart, his body reacting immediately to her nearness. She kissed him, dragging her teeth across his lower lip and pulling it into her mouth. Stella pushed him on his back and straddled him. When she bent over to kiss his ear, her hair tickled his cheek. A loud knocking on the door made them both freeze.

“What is that?” George grumbled, regretfully lifting Stella off him. He got up, looking longingly back at her as he went to the door.

“Don’t forget the peephole, babe!” Stella called from bed.

George smiled, remembering Orlando. “You’re so helpful.” He looked through the peephole and didn’t see anything. Then he looked down and saw the bill for the room was on the floor. “Since when do people who slide the bills under the door knock like that?” George said, picking up the bill. “Isn’t the government paying for your room for your testimony?”

When he looked over at her she was sitting up in the bed, uncovered and waiting for him. “It’s on their credit card,” she said, giggling.

He leapt from where he was standing right onto the bed. The bill flew through the air and landed under the desk, face up. A handwritten note went unnoticed.

Loved the testimony, Stella.