On Saturday morning, Millie, Stella, and Cooper were lounging out on the back porch drinking beer and reading. The October morning was too chilly for bathing suits, but they had on shorts and short sleeves. They were going to grill out in a few hours, but were just having an awesome lazy day.
“Have you read this?” Stella asked, holding her Kindle up.
“What?”
“It’s so good. I mean, he’s so hot and they have really good sex. The two main characters have known each other since they were at a foster home together. Of course, they’re with different people and completely tortured. She goes to law school, but her life is shit and she doesn’t take the bar. That’s bullshit. Can you imagine going to law school and not taking the bar?”
“No way in hell,” Millie retorted.
“I mean, I went to law school and my life is shit, but I still took the bar.” Stella pushed her sunglasses up her nose. She’d pulled her hair back into a very unattractive ponytail that suited their backyard lounge lizard morning. “It’s super yummy,” she concluded. “You should read it.”
“Loan it to me?”
“Sure. I’m done with the first book. There are two of them.”
“I’m reading the last book in that series about breathing. It’s an emotional roller coaster. I kind of want to stab the main character.”
“You’re so violent, Millie.” Stella laughed. “I don’t know why you read such dramatic shit. There’s no need for that.” She shrugged. “I’ve got enough emotional bullshit for ten people.”
“True story,” Millie confirmed.
Stella stood up and went to the cooler; Cooper got up and followed her. “Coop, we’re not going anywhere, calm down.” She reached in and grabbed a beer. “You want one?”
Millie nodded and put her hand out toward Stella.
Stella twisted the top off the beer. “So, I have this new app on my phone that George and I have been using. It’s awesome. It’s like a walk-talkie for your phones.”
“Like old school walkie-talkies?” Millie asked, her eyes interested.
“Yeah. It’s called Voxer and it’s like an audio text message. Also, you can do it without using your minutes and it’s easier than calling someone.” She motioned toward Millie’s phone. “Give me your phone.”
“Don’t you have to have handles for walkie-talkies?” Millie asked as Stella installed the app on her phone. “My dad used to have a CB radio. His handle was Grizzly Bear.”
Stella burst out laughing. “Grizzly Bear?”
“What? That was when Smokey and the Bandit was big; he was big like a bear and mean as fuck too. Pretty accurate name.”
Stella was still laughing. “We should come up with really stupid handles for everyone and put this app on everyone’s phone.” Stella snorted just thinking about it. “Billy can be No Balls!”
“What would yours be?” Millie giggled.
“Hmmm. We need to come up with good ones for us.” Stella was quiet while thinking. “Oooooooh, Jesse’s can be Plays with Balls!”
“Oh, I get it! All the boys will be some sort of ball name?”
“You’re so bright,” Stella said sarcastically.
“Ours can be boxes,” Millie suggested, snorting a little when she burst into giggles.
Stella nodded. “I have a magic box.”
“You can call me Jewelry Box,” Millie laughed.
“Does that mean that you have a bedazzled vajayjay?” Stella pondered for a moment. “You can call me Toy Box.”
“Lunch box?” Millie squeaked out in between laughs.
“Oh. My. Shit.” Stella snorted and spit beer across the porch.
Chapter Nine
Curiosity
Stella was in her car the following week and pulled out her phone, tapping the Voxer app. “Breaker breaker, Hairy Ball.” She chuckled. “I got a couple of ideas. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She and Patrick had been talking about the Jamie situation, but she didn’t want to discuss it with him with everyone around during the weekend.
She got an immediate answer. Voxer was so much better than texting or calling.
“Tomorrow, 5:30.”
“10-4.”
“What’s your 20?” Patrick came through.
“Going into the office now,” she said into her phone.
“I don’t have that much hair on my balls. And I have two balls. Pick another handle for me.” His voice was annoyed.
Stella couldn’t contain her laughter.
“Be safe.”
“Always,” she answered and put her phone back in her purse. She got in the elevator and punched in the 11th floor and watched her feet, thinking about how she would get Jamie to admit to everything, as the car ascended. She took her foot out of her shoe and wiggled her toes, hoping for some relief from her new red heels. They were fabulous-looking, but hurt like a bitch. The elevator dinged and she slipped her shoe back on, looking up as the doors opened.
He was standing at the elevator bank, waiting for the elevator with a bunch of other people.
She gasped and then tried to hide her surprise. She elbowed by him and walked into the lobby of the firm. She felt him following her and tried her best to ignore him. She smiled at Brenda and walked around the receptionist desk into the back hallway.
“Stella?” Jamie called from the lobby.
She thought about what Stan said and stopped. She calmly counted to thirteen and turned around, walking back to the lobby. “Yes?” Her expression was passive, as if she had no idea who he was.
He smiled that all-American smile she’d been used to in college. “I was wondering if you had a few minutes to talk about a legal issue I’ve been having.”
Brenda spun around to take in Stella’s reaction.
“Did you make an appointment?” Stella said, following his lead, her face remaining blank.
“I was hoping you’d have a few minutes.” He glanced at Brenda and shrugged in an “aw, shucks” way.
Stella’s skin crawled with unease. “I’m sorry, Mr.…” she started, still playing along.
“Ryder,” he answered easily.
“Mr. Ryder. You’ll have to make an appointment with Brenda; I’m late for a meeting.”
“That’s too bad.” His eyes twinkled as if to say “game on.”
Stella turned on her heel and walked as casually as she could back to her office. She closed the door and sank into the chair, her legs shaking. Motherfuck. She was going to have to figure out how to record him admitting to shooting her like she didn’t know already. If that’s what she needed to give Agent Harris to cover her own ass, that’s what she’d get.
George was typing out a piece on new legislation that Senator Ashby from Virginia was introducing aimed at stricter gun control. He loved this part of his job—reading the legislation and finding any holes in it or all the pet projects added to the legislation in order to obtain votes from other Senators. This was the fun part. There was money allocated to study ticks in this particular piece of gun legislation. Because that makes sense. He shook his head as his phone rang. “What’s up?”
“I feel like I’ve been run over by a fucking truck, dude,” Jesse complained into the phone.
“Didn’t you?” George asked. He’d watched the Falcons game last night and Jesse had gotten his block knocked off.
“I’m serious. I haven’t gotten out of bed all day.”
“You okay?”
“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.”