“Did you fucking squirt?” He laughs after he says it and my face starts to burn with embarrassment. Some people find squirting incredibly hot; others think it is the grossest thing on Earth. I’m torn, but I don't have much of a choice because, when I get off, it’s a motherfucking waterfall. Apparently, that is just how God built this bitch.
I turn my head away from him, resting it on his shoulder before I reply.
“Yeah, sorry about that.” I try not to let the shame ring through my voice, but it probably does anyway.
“That was the fucking hottest thing I have ever fucking seen in my life. I've seen that shit in porn for years, but never in person. Jesus, Star.”
I hate it when people say shit like that. It’s embarrassing to me, I know it shouldn't be, but it always has been. I need to walk away. I have to get the fuck away from him. This is it. I can't carry this on because he has some perversion for my vaginal waterfall. No fucking way.
“Have dinner with me tonight.”
If his dick wasn't still inside me, I probably would have gotten up and run away. But I can't fucking move. I try and pull away but he tightens his grip.
“I can't. I have plans tonight.”
“You aren't going out to dinner with River tonight.” He says it with an authoritative tone. Like he actually get some kind of a say in the matter. But then it fucking hits me. How the fuck does he know what I am planning on doing for dinner? Creeper!
I pull away, using the pegs to stand up. His dick slips out of me and I throw my leg over the seat, trying to escape. Doesn't work though.
“How the fuck do you know what I was planning on doing?” I should be trying to fix myself, but there isn't much to fix besides my disheveled hair. I am fucking fully dressed, even though I was just being fucked six ways to Sunday.
“You think my brother didn't try and rub it in my face after he saw us last night?”
Did he just fucking say brother? The one friend I have tried to make in this town, and of course, I just fucked his brother. Could I have fucked up any worse? No wonder River was so upset. I am so blind, a fucking space cadet. I should have been able to connect the dots yesterday when Chrome almost ran me over leaving the hotel office. It all makes perfect fucking sense now.
“I can't do this.”
I lift up my hand to push away from him. He tries to hold onto me, but I wiggle myself free, grabbing my art supplies and making my way back to the car. I can paint right in the center of town, where everyone can see me and no one will bother me. Especially Chrome.
“Star, wait.” It’s all I hear as the engine comes to life. I have to fucking get out of here. I just can't do this. I feel bad, but this is all too fucking much. I crack the window slightly, while I back my car past Chrome, standing next to his bike.
“I'm sorry” is all I can say. I sit and I stare at him, but he has nothing nice to say in response. And I fear I don't deserve nice anyway. No matter how hard I try to get my shit together, I continue to fall flat on my fucking face.
“Fuck you, bitch.” I deserve it. It shouldn't hurt because he is nobody to me. Just another guy in my never ending chain of hookups. But it does hurt. It stings, like when I fuck up with Seven and she lashes out at me. It stings like the hurt of my childhood. It actually caused an emotional ping in my normally numb body. And I hate every minute of it. I only wish I knew why he was so deep under my skin in no time flat.
The Dinner
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 u
gly. 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.
Finding Willow (Hers) Page 8