“Well, if you need to talk you know where to find me.” He disappears back inside the motel office, and I wander into my room with only one mission. Call Seven and vent. If I keep this all pent up inside, it is going to end badly.
A realization hits me. That is what drugs have been for me all these years. My out. A way to numb these feelings. Now I am being forced to deal with them, and, even though I have no idea how to, I am figuring it all out on my own. This is what I should have done a long time ago.
The line rings and rings and rings. Totally unlike Seven. She might as well live on top of her cell. She always answers on the first or second ring. Finally, she answers, but she sounds like absolute death.
“You okay, Sev?”
“Just battling some food poisoning.”
“Can you listen?” She reluctantly agrees. I don’t want to keep her on the phone, but she listens like the best friend she always has been, and probably will be.
I offload everything. All the things on my mind that have been eating at me for months, years. Everything I did since I got to Woodstock, minus everything with Chrome. I’m just not ready to even think about that. I finally close with the dead end I faced this afternoon. No Willow in sight.
“Star, we will find her. I promise you.”
I hear her gag on the other end of the line, and I know the conversation is over. The phone crashes to the floor and I hit the end button. Poor Seven; she never gets sick, but clearly something did a number on her. I feel bad that I’m not there to take care of her, like she always has been for me. I know she understands. She encouraged me to set off on this journey. But it doesn’t make me feel any less bad. I’m never there for her when she needs me, yet she is always front and center for me. I really am a shitty friend.
Several soft knocks sound on the hotel room door, waking me from my impromptu nap. I look at the clock and realize Chrome is the one on the other side of the door. Seven on the dot. I don’t want to answer the door. I wish I could just pretend that I’m not here, but my car is a dead giveaway in the parking lot.
“Come on, Star. You’re the one who told me to come.” He bangs a little bit louder, and finally, I get my ass up from the bed and answer the door.
“Sorry, I fell asleep.” I invite him into the small room, which seems even smaller with him invading my space. I begin to think this room really isn’t going to cut it much longer. I don’t want to stay here, but I don’t want to go back to Manhattan, either. Maybe ever. It just isn’t my thing anymore. It isn’t home for me. It was just a temporary getaway from the demons I never faced.
“You wanted to talk?” I ask him as I curl back up on the surprisingly comfortable bed, propping my head up in my hand. He turns his face away and takes a deep breath. Turning back to me, his hands try to run through the hair he doesn’t have on his head. His face is pained and I feel guilty. Like I am the one causing him this pain; it’s my natural reaction to anyone suffering around me, since, for years, I have been the source of pain for so many people.
“It was stupid of me to think you were going to be staying in town. You are only checked into a motel.” He shakes his head and his hands fall into his lap. “But I don’t want you to leave Woodstock. I know I am not around a lot, but when I am here, and not away on club business, I want to see you.”
What the fuck did he just say? He wants me here in Woodstock? What kind of fucking game is this?
“Hear me out before you say anything, please,” he stops me. Maybe it’s the look on my face, which I can only speculate is torn between terror and shock. My arm gives out and my head flops back onto the pillow.
“Look. I am not good with this shit. Scarlett loves you; she thinks you are the coolest person ever. River holds a torch for you. I… well, I like you Star.”
I can’t listen to this anymore. I cut him off. For some odd reason, I am mad.
“You don’t fucking know me, Chrome.” I shoot up straight in bed and my arms start flailing all over. “You know nothing about me! You don’t know why I am in town. You don’t know why I left Woodstock to begin with. You don’t know anything beyond my fucking name and maybe the fact that you like to shove your dick in me any chance you get. That is why you came here tonight, right? Gotta get off again before you hit the road?” I snap. I am a lunatic. It is official. I need help.
“Shut the fuck up! Just shut your stupid ass fucking mouth!” He gets up from the tiny chair his ass was occupying and stalks toward the bed. “Will you fucking listen to a word I am saying?” he yells. He is so close; I can feel his breath on my cheeks, but I squeeze my eyes shut, just waiting for the blow to come.
“Why the fuck are you cowering? Who fucking beats on you, Star? Goddamn it!”
He backs away, sitting down at the other end of the bed. When I feel the weight dip, I slowly open my eyes back up. I watch him cautiously. His pained eyes never leave mine.
“Tell me, Star,” he gently whispers. I want to open up to him. I want him to be my safe place. I want him to be my refuge. Can I take a chance on him? All the dreams of a happily ever after I have craved since I was a child play through my mind. But is he that kind of guy? Will it pay off or will I just end up hurt once again in my life? So many questions engulf my mind. Questions I wish I had an answer to. Everything in me screams, run; don’t trust him. Don’t fucking trust men at all. But I know this may be the chance to start over I need.
I close my eyes while I argue with myself, only opening them again when I feel his rough hand run along my tear-stained cheek.
“Chrome, you don’t want me. You don’t want to know what I have been through in my life. You don’t want to get mixed up in someone as fucked up as me. I’ll tell you, but I am giving you this chance to turn and walk out of that door before I unload this all on you.”
I look up to his warm eyes, full of caring, looking at me in a way no one has looked at me before in my life. Not even Seven. It is now or never.
“I don’t want to go anywhere, Star. You don’t have to believe me, but I won’t walk out that door.” His words should mean nothing, because no one has ever stood by me. But he doesn’t move. He sits on the bed, next to me, keeping a cautious distance, and letting me work out whatever it is that I need to.
“It started when I was young. Really fucking young.” Do I start there? Do I want to dive into the really bad right off the bat? Is that even fair to him?
“My childhood was fucked up. I grew up here in Woodstock. My parents had an old VW bus. It was my family, and my best friend’s family. Our parents are swingers, I guess? I don’t know; it’s fucked up. But they had a son who was a lot older than us. Blue would watch us when they were off doing God knows what. Drugs, fucking… whatever was on their agenda for the day.”
I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I feel sick. I want to throw up.
“I was young, eight, maybe nine, when it started. It went on for years. I thought it was okay because we had done it for so long. When I was a teen and he came around, we would fuck around. I thought it was all just normal.” I almost don’t notice, but a single tear falls from my eye. It’s the start of a flood.
“The first time, I said no. He wouldn’t listen. He just wouldn’t stop. He called me names and told me I led him on. He took my virginity.” My stomach churns again, and I know for sure this time it won’t be as forgiving as it has been in the past when I thought about those moments. My body surges forward off the bed, and I run for the bathroom. Just as I pass the threshold of the door, I empty the contents of my stomach all over the grey tiled floor, missing the toilet by a few inches. Chrome’s big hands grasp my hair, pulling it from my face as I continue to dry heave over the toilet. But nothing comes up. Everything is already out. I wave him off, and he takes a few steps back, standing in the doorway of the bathroom.