The Golden Gate
Griff really, really wanted to ask why Helena didn’t go to New York; why Lance agreed to take her to Kentucky instead; why she was now there in California; and how in the hell she knew where he and JR would be. But he figured he wouldn’t like the answers he got—if he even got any answers from her at all—so, he just drove instead.
Helena let Griff stew, savoring the musky aroma of simmering male angst and enjoying the quiet ride into downtown San Francisco along the Bayshore Freeway. When Griff parked, she hopped out and sauntered off towards the west end of Fisherman’s Wharf.
Griff got out, stood by the car, and watched. Fifty feet off, she stopped and waved him on, so he slowly shuffled her way.
“Stop acting like a tired old hunting dog ready to be put down,” Helena scolded when he got to her.
Griff stared her down.
Suddenly, she took him in her arms and forced a passionate kiss on him. She felt the tension in Griff slowly melt until he returned her kiss and embrace. “There now. Better?”
Griff gave Helena a half-smile.
“Come on. I actually missed you.” Helena discreetly grabbed the inside of his thigh and smiled.
“It is good to see you.”
“So, come on, now. Let’s have some fun. I know it’s kitschy, but I like doing the touristy thing.” She took Griff’s hand and led him to Alioto’s where they joined the blue-hair crowd for an early dinner at a table overlooking the marina. “And I got us a room at the St. Francis.”
“Not your apartment?”
“We’re on vacashe. And I want to ride the cable cars, too.”
“Whatever Helena wants…”
“That’s the spirit.”
Helena ordered Noma Rose’s Cioppino with Chianti. Griff got fried calamari with an Anchor Steam.
Griff clinked Helena’s wine glass, then took a pull off his beer. “So…”
“So?” Helena smiled seductively.
“I can’t believe Lance let you go to Kentucky.”
“He works for me. Remember?”
“So do I.”
“Oh, Griff, don’t think of it as work. Not now anyway.” Helena looked out the window. “Why do you suppose they call them sea lions?”
“Don’t know.”
“Hmmm…”
Griff gave in, sat back and enjoyed the view.
“Who’s Wes Eply?” Helena asked gazing out the window.
“Why?”
“Oh, Lance kept fretting about him, ‘cause he hadn’t checked in or something.”
Griff thought for a moment, then remembered meeting Eply at Stein, Baylor and Stein. “He’s one of Lance’s guys. Does corporate. I met him once.”
“Makes sense. Lance kept asking about him every time he called his office.”
Griff kept his mouth shut hard, hoping to avoid complications.
“That Hannah seems nice…” Helena said in a teasing manner. “I think she has a crush on you.”
Griff prayed for their food to arrive and, thankfully, it did.
“So, you want to go to Alcatraz tomorrow?” Helena asked. “I love that place.”
Griff just shrugged his shoulders.
“Come on, now. You know the rules. Whatever Helena wants…”
“Helena gets.”
She smiled, slipped off her shoe, and massaged Griff’s crotch with her foot. “And then, Helena gets grateful.”
Griff grinned stupidly. He asked for the check, trying not to squirm noticeably, but got a curious look from the waitress.
Helena laughed and excused herself from the table.
Griff texted Lance, “Eply?”
Just as Helena came out of the Ladies Room, Lance answered, “MIA. 5 days. We need to talk.”
Griff pocketed his phone as Helena and the waitress converged on the table. He paid cash. “Keep the change.”
Griff’s guilt over not calling Lance dissipated as he savored Helena smiling like a child on a Disneyland attraction as they rode the cable cars to Union Square. His angst was completely gone by the end of the elevator ride up to her suite with the view of the Golden Gate Bridge. He silenced his phone so Helena’s expressions of gratitude would not be interrupted with business.
The next day Helena and Griff visited Alcatraz.
“He finally gave up, didn’t he?” Helena asked as they leaned on the railing at the bow of the ferry coming back to Pier 33 after their tour.
“Who, Lance?”
“You twitched every time your phone vibrated. I’m glad he finally stopped.”
“I really should call him.”
“Tomorrow…please?” Helena stared straight ahead through her Jackie Ohhs.
Griff’s fingers chased the wind through her hair as it blew her locks back in waves like a blonde flag. “Well, I am with a client.”
“And he’s probably never used that excuse before, huh?”
“Law School 101: Intro to Billable Hours.” Griff’s inside voice involuntarily reminded him of his conversation with Maura on the subject of clients, They’re only right as long as they pay their bills.
Helena leaned into Griff.
“I suppose one more day won’t hurt.”
Helena kissed him on the cheek.
After they docked, Helena and Griff went back to the St. Francis, ordered room service, and exhausted themselves in bed.
Griff gazed out on the fog, which had rolled in over the bay and glowed in the darkness like a Chinese lantern from the ceaseless traffic crossing the Golden Gate.
Helena snored softly beside him.
***~~~***