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.