Seamless (23 page)

Patrick grimaced. “I know you’re not putting your shoe on my console.”

“I sure am. I plan on putting them higher later.” She laughed and nudged George with her shoe.

George smiled and raised his eyebrows at Stella.

“Fuck,” Patrick muttered under his breath and then elbowed her foot down.

“Do not touch these works of art!” Millie exclaimed.

“They cost enough to be works of art,” Stella murmured, admiring them.

“How high
are
those?” Millie asked, holding up her simple, black peep-toed heel in comparison.

“Almost six inches, I think.”

“I couldn’t even pretend to walk in those.” Millie shook her head. “I love your dress too. You look like a celebrity.”

“I feel like one. I need to be wearing Spanx, but I just didn’t feel like it. I plan on eating and drinking a lot so…the Spanx were a no go.”

“You don’t need Spanx,” Millie comforted.

“What the fuck are Spanx?” Patrick asked from the front seat.

“You don’t worry about us talking back here,” Millie retorted. “They’re a friend of women, that’s all you ever need to know.”

“I can’t believe we’re going to a wedding at Mount Vernon! This is crazy,” Stella said, hoping to change the topic.

“I know!” Millie gushed. “And so high profile! We’ll probably be the only people who don’t arrive in a limo.”

“Sorry, babe,” Patrick put in. “I’ll open the door for you, if it makes you feel better.”

“Aw, thanks, honey,” Millie replied sarcastically. “Better than nothing, I guess.”

Stella’s phone beeped; she had a text message.

wednesday 7:30

It was from Jamie. She smiled to herself. It was a date.

fine

She responded and then forwarded it to Patrick, whose phone dinged. He pulled it out to check it.

“I know you’re not texting and driving,” Millie chided.

“No, I’m reading my text and driving.”

“Hey, fucker, you’ve got precious cargo in here,” Stella chimed in.

“Whatever,” Patrick responded.

“What crawled in your undies and died today?” Stella asked.

Patrick’s jaw clenched. Stella looked at Millie, her eyebrows raised. George was silent.

“Asshole,” Millie mouthed at Stella.

Stella tried to hold in her laughter, but it ended up sounding like a dying animal, which caused George and Millie to laugh at her.

Patrick was stone-faced.

“I’ll be designated driver if drinking will help take that rod out of his ass,” Stella offered.

“No worries. I got a car to take us home later,” George piped up.

"Awesome!” Millie cried, high-fiving Stella. “Now it’s a real party!"

After the long drive, Patrick finally pulled into Mount Vernon. They got out of their car at the valet and Patrick and Millie walked ahead of Stella and George. Millie pulled out her invitation and handed it to the host placed at the door. George pulled his out of the inside pocket of his coat.

“Glad you brought your invitation,” Stella whispered. She’d never been to a wedding where you had to bring proof you were invited, but she understood this was a safety precaution.

George grabbed her hand and rubbed his thumb over the back of her wrist. Stella leaned into him and inhaled his mint scent.

Once they got to where the service was going to be, both couples sat on the bride’s side. Millie leaned into Stella and whispered, “Everyone is looking at you.”

“No, they aren’t,” Stella hissed.

“I heard her dress cost $18,000.”

Stella’s head whipped around toward Millie. “$18,000?! Holy shit!”

“Shhhh.” Millie giggled.

George put his hand on Stella’s thigh and squeezed.

“Fuck,” she whispered. “Are you serious? This dress cost $2,000 and I thought I was going to shit myself when I bought it.”

"Then why did you buy it?” Millie asked.

"Because I wanted George to think about fucking me every second he looked at me.” Stella put on a new fake smile she was trying out, a broad, genuine smile meant to convey amusement.

Millie looked at Stella, then leaned forward and looked at George. “Things okay?” she mouthed.

Stella shrugged. She’d told Millie about the whole “Jessica situation,” but Millie didn’t think it was that big of a deal. Stella felt like they were okay, but she didn’t want to take any chances; she wanted him thinking about her every second.

Millie grabbed her hand and patted it compassionately.

They stood when the bride walked down the aisle, positively glowing on her father’s arm. Stella thought the dress was gorgeous, if frightfully expensive. It was silk and tight on the bodice and then the skirt was gathered in different areas and reminded her of meringue on a coconut crème pie. The bride looked amazing.

The ceremony was short and soon they were standing at high top tables for the cocktail hour. Patrick brought the first round of drinks over to the table.

“Porn martinis?” Millie asked.

“Of course, dear,” Patrick said as he kissed Millie’s cheek and set the girls’ martinis down. Servers were circulating with beer and wine, but if you wanted liquor, you had to go to the bar.

George was drinking beer with his hand possessively on Stella’s lower back. Every once in a while he’d grab her ass and she’d giggle. Patrick was scowling. He hated public displays of affection unless he was involved.

“George, it’s good to see you. How’s the campaign trail?” Millie asked in between sips.

“It’s great. I really like being there and getting all the information first and reporting on it, but I miss El. I certainly didn’t want to come to this shitstorm.”

“What? You didn’t want to cover the wedding of the season?” Stella asked, acting completely scandalized and then bumping his shoulder with hers.

“No, I’d rather be alone with you.” He smiled down at her and leaned into her, whispering, “naked.” His teeth nipped at her ear.

Warmness filled her entire body and she smiled at him. “Well, we don’t have to stay all night.”

An announcement came over from where the stage was set up, letting them know that dinner was ready and for everyone to find their seats. She and George were seated at a table with a bunch of other press. George’s hands never left her; even when they were eating he had his hand on her thigh under the table. God, she had missed this.

George talked shop during the dinner about politics and the campaign he was covering. Stella took it all in and enjoyed the scenery and the music. The band was playing fun songs and she was lost in her own mind when she felt George squeeze her thigh.

Looking up, she smiled. “What?”

He stood and held his hand out. “You want to dance with me?”

“Of course!” She got up and threw her napkin on her chair.

They swayed to the music, loosened up after several drinks. Her hands were draped around his neck and she leaned in, smelling him. George pulled her close so that they were connected everywhere. He centered one of his legs in between hers. He’d left his jacket on the back of his chair and she could feel his lean body under his shirt.

George leaned in and kissed her mouth tenderly. “I miss you.”
“I doubt that,” she retorted as they moved fluidly together, remembering how his eyes lit up while talking shop with all the other press. Several of the reporters had tried to ask her questions, but she politely rebuffed them. She’d used all five of her fake smiles during dinner. She wasn’t doing any more interviews; one was painful enough. Her interview with Diane Sawyer was airing as a special on Wednesday night and Stella planned on being very drunk.

“Every fucking morning I wake up without you in my bed it causes fissures in my heart, Love. I have little cracks and holes in my heart because we’re apart.”

Stella pulled him closer, her hands around his neck and his words warming her heart. “I can’t get close enough to you.”

George kissed her bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth slowly. Stella was lost in the moment until she heard Millie’s voice next to her.

“Get a room!” she called with a giggle, bumping her shoulder against Stella’s.

Stella chuckled and separated herself from George, but didn’t take her eyes from those green flecks.

“So, I wanna dansh with the reporter,” Millie said, slurring her words a little.

Stella pulled her eyes from George and looked at Millie, surprised. “How much porn have you had?”

“I love porn so much right now.” Millie giggled.

George reached out and steadied her, laughing as Millie slumped against him in a drunken attempt at slow dancing.

“I guess that means we’re dancing,” Patrick said from behind Millie’s shoulder.

“Well don’t act too fucking excited about it,” Stella responded.

Patrick pulled Stella roughly into his arms and nodded at George. “Watch your hands, man,” he warned with a laugh.

“Got it,” George answered, laughing, and raised his hands to show his innocence.

Stella draped her left hand over Patrick’s shoulder and put her right hand carefully into his, which looked enormous wrapped around hers.

“You got your cast off already?” Patrick asked. “You still have pain?”

Stella shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“What’d the doctor say?”

“Everything was fine,” Stella said, looking to the band. “Things good?”

“Yep,” Patrick whispered.

Stella looked at Millie swaying unevenly in George’s arms. “Are you trying to get her drunk?”

Patrick seemed irritated. “Nope, she’s doing that all on her own.”

“You guys okay?” Stella asked.

“I guess.” Patrick shrugged. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Why’re you so fucking sour? Have some drinks and get that fucking face off your face.”

His eyebrows rose, amused. “Get my face off my face?”

“Yes, your face is a downer and this is a party.” Stella nodded firmly. “You’d tell me if you and Millie were having issues, right?”

He looked everywhere but her face. What was going on?

“Patrick…” She’d been so wrapped up in her shit, she hadn’t realized they were going through something. She was a horrible friend.

“What? We’re fine.” He turned them around so that he was facing the Potomac River. “What’s your status with our little project?”

“Good, I have a date.” The alcohol coursing through her made her feel less; she liked it.
Too much
.

“Good.” He nodded once and twirled her to the music.

She hung onto his arms so she wouldn’t lose her footing. She could always count on him to keep her feet steady.

“I called a car service,” George announced as he killed the remains of his beer.

The reception had been going on for hours and Millie was fading fast after drinking way too much.

“We know,” laughed Stella. “You told us that before.”

“Coooool,” Millie slurred.

“Let’s go to Camelot,” Stella suggested, giggling hysterically.

Patrick and George looked at each other and smiled. This was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

“Seriously?” George asked.

“Sure!” Stella was drunk as shit. She hadn’t had this much to drink in years—well, maybe in Key West, and Millie would agree to anything at this point. “I wanna buy Millie a lap dance.”

This time Patrick responded. “Seriously?” he echoed George, looking back and forth between the girls.

Stella and Millie’s arms were draped over each other and they were giggling uncontrollably.

Millie gyrated her hips so obnoxiously Patrick almost spit out the last of his beer. “Hell, yeah. Lap dances all around!”

The boys high-fived and Patrick almost ran to get all of their coats so they could leave immediately.

After a forty-five minute ride in a Town Car, they were walking down the block to the strip club. Millie was leading the way, talking animatedly about Billy’s new girlfriend.

“Millie, come walk with me,” Patrick directed calmly.

Millie continued to walk ahead, animatedly turning back and forth to talk to them. All of a sudden, Stella saw Millie fly through the air like a cartoon character. Millie’s dress was black, short and chiffon; it flew up as her face stopped her fall, her black lace panties in stark contrast to her white skin. She’d tripped over uneven pavement in the sidewalk and fell face-first onto the concrete. Millie didn’t even put her hands down to break her own fall.
Too much porn
. She was splayed out on the sidewalk, her dress flipped up and showing everyone her very firm ass barely covered in lace.

“Oh my shit, Mil!” Stella bent down to make sure she was okay.

Patrick lifted her from the sidewalk to a standing position by the back of her dress. Millie had scraped her chin and face on the concrete; she was bleeding. She was so drunk her reaction time was so slow that she wasn’t able to brace herself against the fall. Her knees and both hands were bleeding as well. Millie unconsciously wiped her bleeding hands on her dress, which only reached to mid-thigh and now had lines of blood down the sides.

“Am I okay?” she inquired, stunned.

Stella stifled a laugh. “No, you’re bleeding.”

“You’re fine,” Patrick assured her.

“My face hurts. Is my face bleeding?” Millie asked.