Finding Willow (Hers) (8 page)

“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 Nothing like outdated diner soda to remind you of home.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.”

For such a young kid, he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, and I genuinely feel bad for him. It’s been a long time since another person sparked that kind of emotional response from me. Especially a virtual stranger.

“I'm sorry to hear that. Your problems make mine look like a fucking paper cut in the grand scheme of things, River.” It may not be true, but then again, we can't play a game of
who has a more fucked up life
, either.

“I’m cool with it now. It just gets under my skin every time I happen to talk to my brother. Whether I like it or not, he is still Scarlett's legal guardian because of my parents’ will. I have asked him to reconsider but he won't. It always turns into an argument.” Here I thought I was coming to get shit off my own chest. I might as well have him lie down in the booth and charge him a couple hundred bucks when we are done.

“Tell me about your problems. It looks like you want to get something out,” he says. Am I that fucking transparent? Probably. Seven can read me like a book. I guess I don't have the killer poker face she does. Mine was lost long ago.

“My problems are pathetic. I'm a coke-addicted porn star looking for a new start. There isn't much more to it,” I lie. I’m good at lying. I hate that I’m good at lying, but it has helped me through life. I may not have the emotionally evasive poker face, but I can lie like a fucking politician. I know I want to lay it all out on the line, but I just don't want the world to know exactly why I am in Woodstock. My negative thoughts only have everyone trying to help whoever Willow is living with, hide her from me.
Yup, I always think of the worst case scenario.

“That is where I know you from!” His voice echoes through the quiet diner. “You are fucking Star Bloom!” His excitement level is at a three hundred and seventy-two, and I need it at a fucking negative sixteen.

“Yes, that’s me.” I shrug as our food is delivered. River apparently thinks he is dining with some kind of celebrity now. The smile plastered on his face can't even be removed by the shitty diner food, or the heavy convo flowing this evening.

“Seriously. You are, like, one of the best porn stars ever! The deep throat queen!” Once again, his voice echoes, and the embarrassment starts to seep in. I wanted a peaceful dinner, and now I have a deep throat fan front and center.

“Can we talk about something else? I am kind of trying to put that all behind me.” It was a huge portion of my life, but it is done now. I can't go back to that lifestyle and I think I am going to stay away from the drugs. I realized that when I made the decision to leave the city. It wasn't the drugs that I was hooked on; it was the lifestyle. They go hand-in-hand. I always thought I was an addict, but it wasn't until tonight that I realized I craved the acceptance of the crowd I was running with, not the drug itself; I’m doing just fine without them now.

“It's cool. I get it. That’s why we moved up here. My whole family needed a change of scenery, especially my brother. If we stayed in Brooklyn much longer, he would have ended up in jail, and been completely useless to us.” His brother sounds like a real fucking winner. But then again, who am I to judge?

I can't help but smile. This dinner is exactly what I needed. I happily pig out on my cheese fries with gravy, savoring the greasy diner taste of every last one. It is so refreshing to have my appetite back. Two days have gone by and each day I feel a little bit better. I feel healthy, stronger. Like I am regaining the control I have been desperate for my entire life.

“I was on a bad path. I got shit I need to figure out on my own.”

River nods, and continues eating. The conversation continues for hours. We sit there like old friends, going back and forth about trivial shit. The deep part of the conversation is over and carefree nonsense flows. We laugh about pop culture bullshit. He makes fun of my tattooed sleeve of My Little Pony's and he feels like the little brother I always wanted.
Sorry, Journey and Paisley, but there was way too much fucking estrogen in our family.

We both pay our respective tabs and drive back to the motel, still continuing to laugh and joke like old friends. I pull my car into the dirt parking lot, occupying the same spot as earlier, when I notice the black motorcycle pulled up on the walkway in front of the office again.
He
is here.

We go our separate ways, making plans for another “family dinner” the following night. I think the boy is searching for something
more
than I can give him. But then again, most kids his age are. I just know I can see a good friendship developing between the two of us, and that is as far as I can let it go.

I lock myself in my room and open the shades so I can view the dark and empty lot. I hope to catch another look at the hot stranger on the motorcycle again.

An hour later, I’m sitting in front of my laptop when I hear the slam of a door somewhere.
Maybe it’s him?
I find my body working on autopilot and heading for the door. I grab the car keys and pretend I desperately need something out of my car. Without a sweatshirt to protect me from the cold New York fall night, I make my way for the car.

The cold November air is fucking freezing, and I realize this wasn't the best thought out plan. I pop the trunk and start rummaging when I hear his voice. Deep and sultry.

“You are gonna get yourself sick like that.” He’s serious. His voice is fatherly and stern. A distinct tone of authority rings through it. Before I can turn around, I can feel his body towering over mine. He’s standing directly behind me. I’m not sure if I am scared or fucking thrilled. But there is one thing I know for sure; his voice alone has my cunt slick.

“I'm a big girl, but thanks for the concern,
Dad
,” I sass him. I’m pretty sure it was a bad idea, but I can't help but laugh to myself. I don't turn around and he continues to stand behind me. I figure he is thinking about his next move. I find the rogue shoe I was searching for in a cheap attempt to attract his attention. I stand upright and slam the trunk closed.

“Does Cinderella have a name?” he asks as I turn around, and when we make eye contact, I am completely sucked in. Done for. My fucking will is gone. It is replaced by animalistic desire for this sexy as fuck stranger.

“I prefer Cinderella, but if you must know, my real name is Star.” I give him a wink and head for my room. Heavy steps follow me; with each step, his boot meets the dirt with a loud thud. Not surprising for such a large man. I stop at the door, reaching for the keys.

“You following me, Prince Charming?”

I guess we are playing a fairytale game now, because he lets out a laugh. It is deep and goose bumps spread across my body. Maybe it is just the cold. I want to convince myself of that, but the fact is, the sound virtually made me come in my panties.
Shit.
I am in trouble.

“You gonna invite me in, Cinderella?”

No. I am not. The new Star wants to say no. The old Star is already naked on the bed. What would the middle of the road Star do? Maybe I should invite him in? Fuck. I hate making decisions, especially ones that seem so fucking important. I know this is going to be life changing, no matter what choice I make.

“Why would I go and do that?” Hard to get it is. I am through chasing guys.

My back remains toward him as I unlock the door.

He leans in so close his mouth almost grazes my ear, and he slowly speaks.

“Because I know you want to invite me in as bad as I want to come in.” I think he shattered the mere glass wall I had tried to erect in the past five minutes. It’s gone. My defenses are fucking finished. Gone. Shit. Shit. SHIT!

I open the door and let myself in. I stand in the doorway holding the door open, giving him an invitation to the place I now call home. His eyes look around, taking in all my personal touches. Custom designs by Star: clothes all over the bed, bags piled in the corner, and a vibrator just chillin' on the nightstand.
What? I didn't know I was going to have company! A girl has needs!

He sits down in the rickety old chair next to the table in front of the window. The curtains are still wide open and the lone light of the parking lot shines directly into my room. At least we don't have that much privacy.

“You know, I don't even know your name,” I tell him. I know nothing about this man. Only that he is concerned about me getting sick from being out in the cold without a jacket.
Why would he even fucking care?

“Chrome.” Of course he has some kind of biker nickname. From the cut I got a good view of earlier, it’s clear he is in some kind of motorcycle club. Apparently you must check in your real name when you join, so you can be called by some kind of accessory. I bet his friends are named shit like Sissy Bar or Prison Shank. Jesus. Christ.

“Interesting name,” I say as I pull my shoes off and slowly start to get comfortable for the night. Even if I have a stranger in my room.

“Says the woman named Star.” I want to laugh, but it’s true. How can I make fun of his nickname, when I am named after God knows what. Maybe a bad trip my parents had when they found out they were having a baby? Hey, it is a realistic fucking idea.

“Touche.”

He laughs again, and my insides completely melt on the spot.

“So why don't you tell me about yourself, Star.”

Oh, we are playing the whole
get to know you
game? I figured that went out the window when he followed me into my hotel room. I am so not into games. He’s hot, but guys like this aren't the get to know you type. They are the bag and bounce kind.

“Quit the games. What do you want? Blow job? Get your dick wet? Don't play games. Just get it out in the open already.” I can't help it. I’m just too blunt. Maybe something of Seven actually rubbed off on me all these years.

“Well, I guess you are straight to the point.”

The smile on his face starts to fade. The look that replaces it is dark, sexy. I’m not sure if I should be turned on, but I am. Men like this are going to be the death of me. Literally. One day I am going to invite the wrong guy in and he is going to fuck me, then kill me. Once again, I realize I have the worst fucking judgment skills. Or lack thereof.

“I wasn't going to come on to you tonight, Star. But if you are offering...” His hand palms his sizable erection, which is pressing against his jeans. I can see every last inch of it. The only thing I want to do is drop to my knees and take him in my mouth, but I don't. I choke down the giant lump in my throat as he stands.

Every ounce of self-control I have left in my body snaps like a rubber band, and I throw myself across the room at him. He catches my petite body and crushes me up against the wall next to the door. His full lips press against mine as he picks me up. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his wide waist, slowly realizing how massive of a man he really is.

My mouth has a mind of its own; each kiss I return with hunger. I part my lips and my tongue skims his bottom lip, asking for entry. He opens without any hesitation and I explore. He tastes delicious. Something fruity, maybe gum, or candy, mixed with the aftertaste of cigarettes. It seems like ages since I have shared such an intimate kiss with someone. We are frantic and passionate. We’re like high school kids who can't get enough of each other.