“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.
CHAPTER 7
“My favorite color is pink. I love all different shades of pink. Light pink, dark pink, my all-time fave is hot pink, though. I love Hello Kitty, too. I wish I could get a cat, but my Daddy won’t let me. He doesn’t think I am responsible enough yet. He said maybe for my next birthday,” Scarlett rambles on and on as if no one at home ever listens to a word she says.
“I like pink, too, but I think my favorite color of all time is lime green. I like bright colors.”
She sits on the steps of the art store, painting her little heart out. She’s brushed a beautiful sky scene, full of pinks, reds, and oranges, with the tiniest touches of blue. It is beautiful and her talent is crystal clear. I wouldn’t mind painting with her more often, because I could pick up some pointers from her. Sad, huh?
“Your dad is going to be here in a couple minutes to pick you up.”
I’m sad to see her go, but I have to drive a half hour north to Jefferson City and follow up on that address Davis sent me. I would’ve gone first thing this morning, but I’m glad I took the time to hang out with Scarlett.
“Do you like my Daddy?”
Well, that came out of left field. They always say kids say the damnedest things. I guess that’s true.
I am not sure if like would be the best description for what I feel for her father. Maybe a day ago, but today it is more of a tolerance.
“I guess you could say that.”
She smiles and bounces up and down.
“I think he likes you, too.” She is elated, but I don’t want to give her the wrong message.
“Scarlett, you know a lot of people pass through Woodstock. I am not here to stay, honey.”
“Oh,” is all she says. Her eyes search the distance, looking everywhere but at me. I feel bad, really bad. But I don’t want to give her any false sense of hope. I won’t be staying here; this isn’t my home anymore. I’m living out of a motel room, looking for my very own little girl, whom I can only hope will be a lot like Scarlett.
“Starburst Joni Bloom!”
Oh dear God. I know that voice anywhere. The hair on the back of my neck stands straight on end as my mother makes her way up the front stairs of the art store. I didn’t want to see her. But I also couldn’t hide in my room the whole time I was in town.
“Mother.” I nod as Scarlett starts to clean up her paint mess.
“I didn’t think I would see you here in Woodstock again. What brings you home?”
She isn’t being nice; she’s prying for information. She is nervous, and I am sure she is hiding something. My parents are always hiding something.
“Needed to get out of the city for a little bit. I will see you on Friday.”
I turn to start packing up. I hear the door to the art store open and, when I turn around, my mom is gone. Scarlett ignores the entire exchange. I guess by the time you’re her age, you know when to not include yourself in the middle of adult shit. I’m thankful for that because I am not good at explaining adult shit in kid appropriate terms.
The roar of a motorcycle disrupts the peace of Main Street as Chrome comes barreling down the road, stopping in front of the art shop. I knew I would have to see him again today; I just sent up a dozen silent prayers that Chrome would change his mind and River would pick Scarlett up this afternoon.
“All ready to go, baby girl?” His voice makes me want to melt. I can’t help it. It is just the instant reaction my body has to him. Fucking traitor. I am starting to understand exactly how Seven feels about Levi. No matter how much she tried to push him away, she just couldn’t. I’m slowly losing my battle against Chrome. Three fucking days. Three days and I feel like a tween obsessing over those British boy band kids.
“Yup,” Scarlett says, scooping her bag up off the front porch and heading for the waiting motorcycle at the curb. I pick up my own bag to make my way to my car, but Chrome stops me. Well, more like I run directly into his steel door of a fucking chest. Not that I am complaining at all. Maybe I should be complaining.
“Got a moment?”
I want to say no, but I also want to know what he wants. I give him the benefit of the doubt after spending a really good morning with the little girl who happens to be his daughter. I enjoyed my time with Scarlett. I wonder what it would be like to spend time with Willow. Would they be alike? Would they like the same things? Is Willow as happy with her life as Scarlett is?
“What’s up?” I sling the bag over my shoulder and start walking to the car as he flanks my right side, never missing a step.