Dressed in a loose fitting pair of blue jeans and a fitted black Bettie Page shirt, I look in the mirror. My new short, dark locks are exactly what I needed. The light brown hair rests chin length around my round face. My bright blue eyes slowly start coming back to life. I thought I would never get their slight twinkle back. Kicking the drugs worked wonders. I mean, I still feel like a bag of ass throughout the day, but it beats my life wasting away. Complaining about withdrawal is for pussies anyway. Seven would punch me in the cunt if she heard me.
My stomach rumbles, and I look at the clock; it reads quarter to six.
I pull on my black hoodie and head over to the motel office. I figure I’ll take River up on his offer for dinner. Even though I know a good amount of people in this town, I don’t have any real friends. I cut all the ties years ago. A new friendly face could help me immensely, even if he is just a baby. Plus, the fact that he doesn’t know me or my history is a big plus.
As I reach for the office door, it flies open and a rock hard chest crashes directly into my body. Fuck, that shit hurt. What the hell? I growl. Legit growl. Like a fucking dog. I am pissed and in pain.
“Watch where the fuck you’re going!” I say.
I look up to see a mountain of a man. Tall, dark, and handsome wouldn’t even come close to describing him. He is extremely tall, at least six-four, dwarfing my five foot five frame. His head is shaved bald. I laugh to myself when I think about rubbing it. Would a genie pop out?
But then I meet his eyes. He has the most beautiful pair of warm caramel colored eyes. The slight hint of wrinkles around their edges shows mystery, depth. They scream of untold stories, a weight of burden. How do I know? Because I wear the same baggage on my very own face.
“Shit, I am sorry,” he mumbles as he continues his long strides toward a motorcycle parked on the far side of the lot. I can’t help but watch as he walks away. The way his jeans fit snug over his delectable ass. The way the white long sleeve shirt bunches on his forearms, exposing dark shaded tattoos. The way the black leather cut hangs from his shoulders, unbuttoned and moving freely with every step he takes.
A large patch spreads across his back reading, Hell’s Renegades. He is dangerous, gorgeous, hot, and sexy. Fuck, I could go on and on with various adjectives to describe him. None would do him justice. I continue to stare like a child. The motorcycle roars to life, startling me from my thoughts. Like that, he pulls out of the dirt parking lot, and onto the small two-lane road running through the center of town. He is gone, and I’m still frozen in the same spot. What the fuck just happened?
I shake my head and walk inside the office. River stands behind the counter, looking pissed. He doesn’t even acknowledge me. Maybe this isn’t a good time. Maybe dinner was a bad idea. Or maybe he needs the company tonight just as much as I do?
“Bad time?” I question, and his glare swings in my direction. His face softens, and he cracks a smile. Good to know I can make someone smile these days; it hasn’t been one of my strong suits recently. I can’t help but smile back at him. It is totally fucking contagious.
“No, actually. I could use company for dinner.” He pulls a jacket off the back of the chair behind the counter.
“Any preference? There isn’t much for choice around town, but there is a diner that is pretty good.”
Maggie’s. I remember it well. My parents never had much money, but every opportunity I had to scam some money, I ran there for French fries smothered in American cheese and gravy. Still, to this day, any time I step foot inside a diner, it’s a must.
“Maggie’s is good,” I tell him, and I pull the keys to my car from my pocket. His eyebrow lifts with curiosity. He’s finally taken a good look at me. The changes. The hair. Let the questions begin.
“You drivin’?” is all he says, though. I let out a sigh of relief, but I’m sure as soon as we’re packed into the snug booths at Maggie’s, he will start with the questions. Maybe instead of investing in a therapist, I will just hang out with this child. Seems like an easier remedy.
“Yeah, you wanna ride with?” I jingle my keys and press the fancy remote on my keychain to unlock the doors. I don’t think I’ll ever get over the excitement of having my own car. It’s not even a Volkswagen bus, or an actual school bus converted into a fucking home.
“Sure.” he reaches for the door handle and lets out a laugh. “But where am I supposed to sit?”
I realize I still have half my music collection sitting on the passenger seat. I climb into the driver’s seat and start chucking CD cases into the back.
“Sorry, it was a long drive.”
And like that, we’re off.
“So, you know Maggie’s?” River asks, as he picks up the petite glass of water off the table and chugs it back. I take a minute to think about exactly how much I want to dish to him before I know his story.
“Grew up in Woodstock,” I say, deciding to really lay it all on the line. This is the new and improved Star; no need for games. I’m not going to come out with the long, sad, sob story of why I’m hiding away in the mountains, but I am not going to hide trivial bullshit, either.
“I’ve been here for five years and never once seen you,” he responds with a sly grin. He’s right. I haven’t been back during that time. It’s been almost eight full years since I made it a point to come back to this hell hole.
“Haven’t been here in about ten years. Maybe a little longer, but I haven’t been keeping track.” I take a sip of the watered down Sprite in front of me and try not to gag on it. Nothing like outdated diner soda to remind you of home.
“What brings you back to this podunk, piece of shit town?” Well, that was blunt. Why don’t you tell me how you really feel, oh youngen filled with angst.
“Change. I need to slow down. Re-evaluate my life. Start over.” It’s the truth. I think those factors, and Willow, are exactly what brought me upstate. I could hang around here for a while, try and blend in with the locals. Be a little carefree, and take in nature. Stop to smell the roses, something that is damn near impossible in New York City. Even though Woodstock harbors so many negative memories for me, there is so much beauty in the town. Rich culture from the hippies who never left after the memorable music festival. Believe it or not, many actually became productive members of society in this little tourist town.
“What about you, River? What brought you to Woodstock?”
The easygoing expression starts to fade from his face, and a more serious look takes over. He takes a long sip of the water again and places it down on the table a little harder than a normal person probably would. It’s a sore subject for him. I won’t pry, but I must admit, I’m curious. He lets out a sigh and then begins.
“Five years ago, my parents died. I was sixteen, so I had no choice but to move in with my oldest brother. He was twenty-nine at the time, and he had no interest in raising me. He left me to fend for myself. I guess I’m grateful for having a roof over my head, and food to eat, but I got stuck taking care of my little sister, Scarlett. I became her live-in babysitter.”
I can feel the resentment in the air. His distaste for responsibilities is clear, like most kids his age. But he shrugs it off and continues.
“But it’s life. No one expected our parents to get killed. You never think you are going to be taking care of a five-year-old girl when you’re sixteen. Don’t get me wrong. I love Scarlett, but my brother’s lack of presence in our lives made everything harder. It’s his job; he is on the road. I get it. I was just never ready to be a surrogate parent.”