Finding Willow

CHAPTER 6

The rest of my day goes as planned. I sit on the steps of an old abandoned hippie shop on Main Street and paint. My mind races, thinking about everything impacting my life right now, which normally would send me into some kind of anxiety attack, or searching high and low for my next fix, but instead, it’s freeing. I can already tell that painting is going to be the best substitute for therapy ever.

Later, after I’ve freshly showered, I slip into a floor length black Maxi dress, and pull a pink cardigan over myself to protect me from the cold October evening. My phone vibrates on the nightstand; Seven is front and center on the screen again. Twice in one day isn’t typical for her. Especially recently. After everything went down, we’ve been trying to distance ourselves from each other. I give her the space she needs because I know I am the one who fucked up. It’s something I have learned to live with daily. She is helping me with finding Willow, but other than that, our relationship has significantly cooled off. Which I think is probably better off in the long run.

“Hello?” I hit the speaker button and continue moving around the small room, brushing my hair and getting ready to head out to Maggie’s for dinner shortly.

“Star, you saw my mother today?”

Ugh, I really should have at least sent her a text about it. It just slipped my mind after everything with Chrome happened.

“Yeah, she was working at this little art store downtown. She was acting all sketchy.” What else is new from her? Seven’s quiet on the other end of the line for far too long.

“She called me today. She wants me to come up next weekend. Something about some family news she has.”

Interesting, for sure. Over the years, family news sessions have always centered around some kind of a scandal, or someone being in serious fucking trouble. We rarely got in trouble as kids, but when we actually did, it was bad. I still firmly believe every fucked up thing we did or caused was their own damn fault, though. Never watching us. Never paying attention to us. Never caring what the fuck we were doing. That isn’t what parents are supposed to do.

“What did you say?”

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want Seven to come and visit. I miss her. It has only been a couple days, but it’s been a couple days too long. Even though it is the worst idea ever.

“I’ll be there next Friday. Just poke around and see if you can find anything out. I know you don’t want anything to do with them, but…” Her voice trails off.

“I owe you,” I cut her off before she can say anything else. If I was being completely honest, I owe her my entire life. There’s no way I would be alive today if it wasn’t for her bailing me out so many times over the years.

“I’m heading out for dinner, I will give you a call tomorrow.” I end the call, picking up my purse and heading for the door. I told River I would meet him at Maggie’s tonight, and if I don’t get out of here now, I am going to be late.

I lock the door and turn for my car when I notice a parking lot full of motorcycles. I am sure Chrome’s is part of the pack, but I won’t be sticking around to find out. The sooner I get out of here, the better.

I sit down at the table and order a glass of water. I learned my diner soda lesson last night. Never. Again. I look over the menu trying to pick out what tickles my fancy for the night while I wait for River. I pick up my phone and text my little sister, Journey; while I’m in Woodstock, I do want to see her. Out of all my family members, she is the one I worry about the most, because she never wanted to leave our parents like Paisley and I did once we had the chance.

I’m in Woodstock, kiddo.

I sit and wait for her reply; it isn’t long before my phone chimes. I can feel the excitement radiating from her reply before I even pick up the phone.

SQUEEE! When can I see you?!!??!!?!?

Journey is the youngest of the Bloom children. Three girls. I’m the oldest, Paisley is twenty five now, and Journey is the baby at nineteen. When I left, I worried about how she would fare without me protecting her from everyone and everything, like no one ever did for me. I worried about someone like Blue, or Blue himself, fucking her up for life.

Come by the motel tonight. I am in room 101 right next to the office. I will text you when I am back from eating.

Just as I look up from my phone, I see River walking through the door of Maggie’s. A petite little girl with big green eyes and dark brown hair stands next to him. She is the spitting image of River. If I didn’t know any better, I would think she was his daughter, because they look that much alike. She skips down the aisle behind him, holding onto her American Girl Doll with one hand and toting a Strawberry Shortcake backpack on her shoulders. She is absolutely beautiful.

“Sorry we’re a couple minutes late,” River offers in apology. Scarlett slips into the booth and he follows.

“It isn’t a big deal at all,” I wave him off. I smile at Scarlett, who is quietly investigating me across the table. I extend my hand to her.

“Hi, I’m Star. And you must be Scarlett. I’ve heard a lot about you from your brother.” I smile in his direction, and it seems like the girl starts to relax just a little bit. She smiles at me, while she puts her doll down on the bench seat next to her.

My attention shifts when I hear the bell, and there he stands. Chrome. Why the fuck is he here? Damn it all to hell!

Scarlett turns to see him, and pushes past River, barreling down the small aisle toward the giant man. He’s huge compared to her; hell, he is fucking huge compared to everyone.

“Daddddddddy!” the girl screeches as she throws herself into his arms. Did she just say Daddy? My body stiffens. Someone lied. Daddy? He’s her father? How? What? Who? The questions flood through my mind and River just sits there, staring at me. I want to punch him. Why would he lie to me about his little sister, too? What fucking game are they all playing?

Chrome and Scarlett walk back to the table. Scarlett climbs back into the booth next to River, and Chrome turns to me, and smiles.

“This seat taken?” He hints at the seat right next to me. I don’t want him to sit down here, but I’m not about to make a scene in front of this little girl. That would just be wrong. I may not have a lot of morals, but I can act like a fucking decent human being sometimes.

“Of course not. Have a seat, Daddy.” I can’t help myself. His large body squeezes into the booth next to me, and he squeezes my upper thigh under the table. He leans in close, whispering,“We’ll talk after dinner.”

Hesitation is clear on his face. He doesn’t want to tell me, but I am already in too deep with this little family.

My phone buzzes with a text from Journey.

See you around 8.

Mr. Fucking Nosy eyes the screen of my phone and stiffens while he reads the message. River and Scarlett sit on the other side of the table, picking out what sounds good to eat. She’s begging for dessert instead of a grilled cheese, but River isn’t bending at all. Eventually she gives up, just as her glass of strawberry milk arrives. A girl after my own damn heart.

“Who was that?” Chrome’s breath on my neck sends a chill through my body. Why the fuck should he care?

“My sister, not that it is any of your fucking business.” I try to be quiet, but River can tell something is brewing between the two of us.

I shouldn’t fucking care. I shouldn’t give a flying fucking shit about this guy, or his kid, or his fucking life. I don’t want to care about any of it at all. But I do, and after a single damn day, it is driving me insane. My plan to walk away clearly isn’t working as well as I would have liked. Maybe I don’t want him to go away. I don’t know what the fuck I want. I want to find my daughter. That is what I want. That’s why I came to Woodstock and that is what I am going to do. And I’m not going to let him or anyone else get in my way.

“So, how was painting today, Star?” River interrupts before I have the chance to tell Chrome off. He tries to smile, but it just comes off looking forced and painful.

“It was great. When I finally got around to it. I ended up getting interrupted by some ass when I went up to the mining road. So I came back to town and painted on the steps of the old ice cream shop. Stop by the room tonight; I’ll show you.” I give him a genuinely warm smile. Talking about painting is probably the highlight of my day, besides the act itself.

“You paint, Miss Star?” Scarlett’s face lights up; she is full of childlike curiosity. She really is a pretty little girl. Now that I look, I can see the resemblance between her and Chrome. She is almost a carbon copy of him, minus her bright green eyes.

“I do. I just started again after not painting for a really long time. When I was your age, I loved it. How old are you?”

She immediately sits up straight and replies.

“I am ten! Just turned ten on September 11th.”

I can’t help but smile, a big toothy grin. Her happiness is absolutely fucking infectious. The men at the table sit smiling and watching our conversation without saying a word.

“I was about ten years old when I first started to paint. Maybe one day we can do some painting together?” The offer is genuine. Even if I want to stab her Dad in the fucking eye with a toothpick.

“Can we do it tomorrow? I don’t have school tomorrow. It’s Saturday. There isn’t any school on the weekend. We can paint tomorrow, and Sunday!” Her words spill out of her mouth a mile a minute. She is bursting at the seams with excitement. I know it would break her heart, and a piece of her soul, if I told her no. I can’t be that person.

“Of course. Maybe one of these guys can bring you to the art shop on Main Street to meet me tomorrow? We will get you some supplies and paint downtown.” I look between the men and Chrome nods.

“We’ll talk about it after dinner. I have to talk to Miss Star in private first, okay, Scarlett?” Chrome speaks so sweetly to the little girl. She nods at him, but the smile doesn’t fade. She must know how much of a pushover he is for her. I can tell just by the way he looked at her when she started rambling on about painting together tomorrow.

The conversation flows over dinner, mainly led by a ten-year-old version of what I imagine I would have been, had Blue never gotten his hands on me and fucked up my bright spirit. I don’t know what it is about her, but I just want to scoop her up and protect her from the world. Maybe it’s my past, and the fact that I craved someone to protect me from him for all those years. But it is more than clear that she doesn’t need anyone protecting her, because the two men sitting at this table would clearly give their lives for her.

I watch Chrome’s interactions with her, and one of the walls I put up to keep him out crumbles. Underneath that badass biker persona is a caring human. I guess all those biker stereotypes about pieces of shit really don’t give an accurate depiction of the people they really are under the motorcycle club emblems and obscene amounts of leather.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Chrome says as he makes his way for the door of Maggie’s. I don’t watch or pay attention to anything he is doing. I try to tell myself I don’t care, even though I am genuinely curious. I try and talk myself out of it, but I end up watching him walk out the door, while continuing to pay attention to River and Scarlett.

The waitress makes her last round, distributing the bill, and when I reach for my purse, it isn’t in the booth next to me. I could have sworn I brought it in with me, but it is nowhere to be found.

“I gotta run out to my car. I think I left my bag there.” River nods, and I smile at Scarlett. “I’ll be right back, and we can talk to your Dad about painting tomorrow.”

Out the door, and down the front steps of Maggie’s, I round the corner of the old metal building toward my car. I open the passenger side door and there it is. Sitting right on the seat where I clearly forgot it earlier. I close the door and turn for the building when I hear a noise by the dumpster. It’s a strangled moan, or a cry. Whatever it is, it catches my attention. I take a couple steps in the direction of the sound. That’s when I hear it. His moan. That throaty growl. I could pick it of a crowd.

I open the brown fence door that closes off the back of the diner, and there’s Chrome. He’s leaning against a brick wall, his eyes closed, with some blonde on her knees in front of him sucking his dick. It shouldn’t bother me. I shouldn’t be upset. It shouldn’t feel like my heart was just ripped right out of my chest. But it does. I slowly started to open myself up once again, despite the fact that everything surrounding this man screams, run the fuck away. I’m a motherfucking idiot.

I let out a gasp and the blonde turns around, with Chrome’s dick still in her hand. “The fuck you lookin’ at?”

She’s ugly. Really ugly. Dark circles around her eyes, ratty clothes, and her long blonde hair hangs in dreadlocks. She looks like she has been fucking rode hard and put up wet. My gaze scans upward and my eyes meet Chrome’s.

“I should have fucking known better,” I say before I turn to walk away. I don’t look back. I will never look back. I am fucking done looking back.

I take my purse and run back inside the diner. I throw a couple bills on the table, and I give River an apologetic look.

“Bring Scarlett by around ten tomorrow morning. I gotta go. You know where to find me.”

I turn and head for my car. I get inside and lock the door. I don’t know where he is, but I am not going to let him stop me. He can keep his blow job in the alleyway. I am fucking done. I throw the car in reverse and back out of the parking spot, heading for the hotel.

Once I’m safely inside my hotel room, I text Journey and let her know I’m not up for any visitors tonight. I know she’s going to be upset, but I don’t want her to see me like this.

I make plans to see her tomorrow night instead, to have dinner and catch up on life. Almost as if on cue, I hear a knock on the door. I know it’s Chrome, and I don’t want to see him. I really wish there was another place I could stay in this fucking town. This whole one motel shit is for the birds.

“Open up, Star.” River’s voice bellows through the closed hotel room door. I actually get up to let him in, simply because he isn’t his brother, who could be dead in that alley way, and I wouldn’t care.

“What the hell happened?” The words fly out of his mouth before I have a chance to even say hello. I’m upset, and he can see it. However, I just can’t bring myself to cry. I’m all cried out. I shed my last tear in New York City when I spilled my heart and soul to Seven. I have nothing left in me.

“I don’t want to get into it. I just had to get out of there.” I notice he’s alone.

“So, you don’t want to talk about it? About whatever is going on with you and my brother?” Going on with me and his brother? Nothing is going on with us. Nothing at all. Fucking absolutely nothing.

“There is nothing going on with us. We hooked up. That is all it was. Nothing more,” I say, as though I’m trying to convince myself, but I am doing a really bad job of it.

“Star, are you sure?” Why does this kid care about me so much? What have I done in my life that is actually good enough to deserve a real friend like him? Let alone after only a few days.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I lie. I shouldn’t lie to him and I feel bad. I am lying to myself, too, because I’m trying to insist that, whatever those hook ups were, it wasn’t anything worth writing home about. I’m a bad liar. I really am.

“If you want to talk about it, I’m here. I gotta head home for the night, but if you want, here’s my number.” He scribbles some numbers down on a scrap piece of paper on my nightstand and heads for the door. Before he walks out, he turns to me, saying a few simple words that completely fuck my head all up.

“He isn’t the bad guy he tries to be. He’s been through a lot in the past couple years. I’m sorry he hurt you.”

Like that, he’s gone, and I’m alone with my thoughts. He isn’t a bad guy? He has been through a lot? The bad guy he tries to be? I don’t know what River is trying to get at, but I just can’t put much more thought into it. Because my sanity is slowly slipping and, for once in my life, it is the result of a fucking man I actually want to give a shit about. I wish I knew why. Maybe it’s because he appears just as broken as I am? Maybe I want to fix him? Maybe I just want to hide from my own fucked up life once again. This whole life makeover really isn’t going as I had planned, that is for sure.

I don’t get undressed. I just lie down on my bed and close my eyes. Eventually my mind quits and I drift off until a fucking rude, loud banging rips me from my peaceful slumber sometime around midnight.

“Fuck off!” I scream from my bed. “Wrong room!” The banging continues. It sounds like whoever is out there is about to come through the fucking door.

“Star, open the fucking door.” Chrome’s voice instantly shakes off the fuzzy just woken feeling coursing through my body, and sends me into high alert.

“Go away!” I scream as loud as I possibly can.. I punch the pillow before hurling it across the room at the door. The banging stops, and the quiet returns to the peaceful fall night. That is when I hear a key inside the lock and my motel room door swings open.

“Are you fucking out of your mind?” I yell at him. He stands in the doorway unfazed. He has a black eye, and the smell of alcohol reaches across the room.

“We need to talk,” he slurs, staggering a couple steps in the direction of my bed. He’s going to fall, and all I can think about is him riding his motorcycle completely shitfaced. There is no fucking way he wouldn’t kill himself like that.

“We don’t need to talk. You need to go.” I point toward the door, which is still wide open.

“I didn’t mean for you to see that.” Of course he didn’t. No one ever means to get caught in a compromising position. I never meant for Seven to see me fucking her brother. But it happened, and I know what it feels like.

“Of course you didn’t want me to see that. But I did. I don’t know what your game is, but I want you gone.”

I stand up, and creep out of bed, heading for the door. I turn in his direction, just as he collapses against my bed. Fuck. My. Life. I have the worst fucking luck.

I close the door and take a few steps in his direction. Is he awake? Did he pass out?

“Chrome, you need to go.”

He ignores me and starts on a drunken tirade of complete nonsense.

“I didn’t want to like you. But I do. I don’t like women. I use them. Since her.” His hands cover his eyes as I switch on the light. But he doesn’t stop talking. “She left me. She left me with a brand new baby. I didn’t know what the fuck to do. So, I gave it to my parents. I gave my kid away like it was a pair of sunglasses or a cookie.”

I cut him off because I don’t want to hear this. I don’t want to know more about him. I don’t want a deeper connection. I don’t need him using me as his own fucking personal therapist. I have too much of my own shit to deal with.

“I don’t want to hear it. I can’t do this. Please. If you care about me at all, get up and leave.”

He stops rambling, moves the hand shielding his eyes, and starts speaking again. Never breaking eye contact.

“I care. I don’t want to. I do. I care. I can’t leave you tonight. I can’t let you push me away.” It’s only half coherent. He isn’t making much sense. If I wasn’t so pissed off and emotionally fucked in the brain, I might be laughing at him.

Then, the worst fucking thing possible happens. The drunk bastard passes out on my bed. Out cold. All six fucking foot five inches is dead weight on the only place I have to sleep. I can’t help it. I start to laugh. Hysterically.

I left New York City to get away from nonsense and drugs. While I may not be blowing lines of coke left and right, or even fucking drinking, the nonsense seems to fucking follow me wherever I go. I am like a bullshit magnet. I guess it’s just karma biting me in the ass.

I yawn and realize there’s no way I am getting around sharing a bed with this guy. I’m paying for this fucking room, and I am sure as fuck sleeping. Not only that, but I have a date with his daughter in the morning. What have I gotten myself into?

I curl up along the top of the headboard, trying my best to keep my distance from the drunk at the foot of the bed. I lie there for hours, trying to sleep. I nod off on occasion, but never truly get any sleep. The daylight eventually tries to peek through the fabric curtains I pulled tightly shut. I made it through the night.

I slide off the bed and head to the bathroom. A tall glass sits next to the sink and I fill it with ice cold water. I am on a mission.

I’m a bitch. I can’t help it but I am annoyed, still, hours later.

I take the glass of water and pour it all over Chrome’s head. Drenching him, the bed, and the carpet in the process. I try not to laugh as he snaps awake, scrambling around and trying to take in his surroundings. He has no idea where he is.

“Time to wake up, sleeping ugly. Your daughter is going to be here in a little bit for our painting date, and I want you gone.”

He looks around the room and tries to focus his eyes on me, but I can tell he is in bad shape. I’ve been there, so I completely know the feeling. But this time around, I can’t sympathize or feel bad for him. I want him to hurt.

“Star, I came here to talk. I think we should talk before I go. Especially if you are going to be spending time with Scarlett.”

Well played, asshole. Use the girl as an excuse. I can’t say no now. I can’t not hear him out, because I can’t back out on the painting date I made with her. That would just be an asshole move on my part.

“Speak.” That is all I can say. I have nothing left. I don’t want to have this long, drawn out heart-to-heart. I want him to speak his peace and be on his way.

“I was really young. She was even younger. I had just turned twenty-four, and she was seventeen. Looking back, I think I could say I loved her. But I honestly didn’t know love until a few years ago. She was attracted to the dangerous biker life, but it was no place for a woman or a baby. I was foolish and let her hang around the club.” He lets out a deep sigh and shakes his head.

“We were together, but she was a club whore. She fucked anyone who wanted it. I knew, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t thinking about getting married or having a future. I just wanted to live fast and have some fun. Then came Scarlett. I didn’t think she was mine, and I kicked Michelle to the curb. But when Scarlett was born, it was clear as day she was my daughter. From the day she was born, she looked just like me. I was a dick, and I made Michelle chase me around with a paternity order, which only confirmed what I already knew.” His face is full of pain. I feel bad to an extent. I may put on this bitch facade sometimes, but I hate to see anyone else hurting. Fuckin’ funny, huh?

“Michelle dropped Scarlett off with me and my parents for my Sunday visit. She was three months old. My mother loved her to fucking death. She would sit for hours and play with her. Coo at her and talk that bullshit baby talk. Michelle never came back to get her. We all waited, but she never showed. She had been drunk, driving her mother’s car, and crashed into a tree on her way to get Scarlett. Died on impact, leaving me with a brand new baby. I had no fucking clue what to do with her.” He rests his head in his hands. I am not sure if it is from the stress of the memory, or the fact that I am pretty damn sure his head is fucking pounding with a raging headache.

“I gave her to my parents. I didn’t know what else to do. They raised her as their own. Mom always wanted a little girl, after having three sons. But then they died. Scarlett and River came to live with me, because they were both still minors. That’s when shit changed. River still thinks of Scarlett as his sister, but we had to tell her the truth. I tried to become the best father I could be, with the circumstances of my life. Being on the road, being involved in the shit I am. When I am home, she is my world.”

What do you say to something like that? How do I reply to him? Do I spill my past? Do I let him know what I am doing in Woodstock? I just can’t.

“I know I am a dick, Star. I know I am a fucking piece of shit for what I did last night. I’m not going to make any excuses. I am reckless. I am a fucking womanizing piece of shit because that is all I have ever known. After Michelle, I never dated. I just did whatever I wanted. The whole ‘no strings attached’ shit. It is all I have ever known. I know it isn’t an excuse and, if I hurt your feelings, I’m sorry. Really.” He stands from the bed, adjusts his pants and shirt, and starts to walk toward the door.

“That chick earlier. I was just trying to get you out of my mind. You have taken over my thoughts. I never thought I would see a day like this.” He is frustrated, pissed, upset. A bundle of emotion and nerves, but I need to sort out everything he just told me.

“Tomorrow night, I leave ‘til Thursday. I’d like to see you again before I go, but I understand if you aren’t up for it. I’ll be picking up Scarlett at noon from the art shop.” He opens the door and is gone. Two days in a row, he has walked out of that door and taken a piece of me with him, and I fucking hate that I am so goddamn vulnerable to him. I don’t know why or how. I just know that whatever just happened isn’t going to just go away.