Finding Willow (Hers) (4 page)

The Next Day

It’s fucking bright in here. The sunlight of a new day beats down on my face, and I have no fucking idea where I am. I blink my eyes repeatedly, hoping the world will come in to focus. But it doesn't.

My head is pounding and I feel like I jumped in front of a subway car last night. I always tell myself, the morning after, I will never do it again. I will never go down this road again. But I do. Because I would rather physically feel like a giant bag of ass than deal with my own fucked up emotions.

“Is sleeping beauty awake?”

My manager, Katy, appears from behind a closed door, and everything starts to come into focus. I’m in the guest room of her Greenwich Village brownstone. It looks like
Martha Stewart Living
vomited all over the pastel-colored room. The antique furniture is all refinished in white and turquoise paint, and vintage print ads line the walls in thick black frames. I hate her décor, but she totally gets two points for the bed, even if it is covered in paisley print. I feel like I’m floating on air, despite my need for a bottle of Motrin.

“Ughhhh... whastkababblehapp?” Nope, I don't think I am conscious enough to start communicating in English yet.

I push myself up on the bed, as Katy hands me a couple of pills, and a giant glass of water. It looks refreshing, but I know the moment it hits my stomach it is going to come flying back up.
Never fucking again, and I mean it this time.

“You took a cab here last night. I want to say it was around ten. Typically early for you to come knocking so fucking shit-faced. What set you off this time, Star?”

It’s true. Besides Seven, Katy is the only person in my life I can trust enough to clean up the monstrous messes I repeatedly find myself smack dab in the middle of. This time, I couldn't turn to Seven. I don't think she will ever talk to me again. It should hurt more, but the more time that’s gone by, the more emotionally void I become. I can own that I’m a shitty friend, though.

“I fucked up. I gotta go see Seven. What time is it?”

I turn my head, looking for a clock, and realize how unstable I really am. I slump back against the down pillows and close my eyes.

“A little after eight. Go back to sleep for a bit. I’ll wake you up at ten and bring you to see Seven. Whatever you did, you have to make it right with her. For your own sake.”

Katy slowly shuts the door. She’s right. I have to do whatever I can to make shit right with Seven. She’s all I have.

****

What the fuck is that buzzing?
Something in here is buzzing.
Buzzzz, Buzzzzz, Buzzzz, Buzzzzz. What the fuck? Shut up!

I open my eyes and realize the monster headache I was nursing a while ago is better. Not completely gone, but I’m well on my way to feeling halfway human again. It’s going to be a while before I get back to normal. But that’s okay, because this time I am not falling back into my old habits.

Buzzzzz, Buzzzzz.

I find my cell phone vibrating across the hardwood floor. I miss the call before I can grab it. I try my best not to fall off the bed as I reach for it, but my efforts are completely in vain. My body falls onto the floor with a thump, and I lie there, phone clutched in my hand, laughing at the simple misfortune my life is always full of. I often wonder if it is payback for the bad choices I’ve made.

I scroll through the call log; there’s a missed call from an unknown number. I continue to scroll through my call log and text messages, realizing I harassed Seven for most of the night. I don't remember a single second of it, but I can't help but wince at the words, the pleas, and the lack of answers on her part. I really fucked up this time.

For a few moments, I continue to lie on the floor and stare at the perfectly painted white ceiling. I wonder if Katy heard me fall to my doom. The brownstone duplex isn't large, and noise travels through these old buildings like the wind whips through them on a cold New England winter day.

“Katy?” I yell, as I start to stand. My legs don't give out on me. That is a fucking plus. Walking to the mirror, which stands atop the white dresser at the end of the sleigh bed, I stop and look at my refection.

I still have on the same red halter dress. The matching heels lay next to the bed where my purse is spilled out. Surely Katy went to town looking for the source of this week's epic meltdown.

My eyeliner has run down my pale cheeks, and the red lipstick is rubbed off, leaving only the slightest tint of color surrounding my mouth. My hair is a rat's nest. My body looks exactly like I feel. Like a whole lotta hot fucking mess.

That’s when I notice them. The bruises. I can see the subtle hint of purple around my neck, but there are more, so many more. One takes up almost my entire upper thigh. I wear a handprint across my right cheek. The bruises around my neck are clearly handprints as well. A small black and blue mark is clear at the corner of my eye. Someone tried to do some damage, and I don't remember any of it.

Only one person has ever hurt me like this.
Him.

The bathroom is mere feet away, and I make quick work of washing the leftover makeup off my face before heading back to the bedroom for my purse and shoes. Katy clearly isn't here, and I don't have time to wait. I need to make it to Seven. I need to explain
everything
to her. I’m sick of running from the past, and if I am truly going to become free, there is something monumental I need to get off my chest.

Today, I finally reclaim my life.

It’s lunchtime. Seven is probably off on some fancy business lunch, while I sit here in the waiting room of her office. It’s cold and distant, your typical office space: fluorescent lighting, cubical galore, and a number of bad fucking pant suits. There is not one personal touch.

“Is Miss James expecting you?”

Her receptionist looks at me with disgust. I nod, answering her question. Seven may not really be expecting me, but whatever. She’s judging me. Hell, I would be judging myself, too. After washing my face, I hailed a cab and headed straight for her office. Traffic was unusually busy. I should have stopped at my apartment for a change of clothes. I should do a lot of things, but my impulses control my rational thinking most of the time. Bad judgment won out, and I sit in her multi-billion dollar corporate office looking like last night’s hooker. Story of my life.

“Miss James will see you, Miss Bloom.”

“Thank you” is all I can mutter while I work to choke back the Hollywood tears hiding behind the remnants of makeup.

I stand on shaky legs, and walk through her office door. I’ve never come to her work; I never had a reason to. The office is incredibly spacious for Manhattan. The far wall is made of solid glass, looking over the river from the ninety-fifth floor. The furniture is mostly white, although several girly colors accent the clean design. Pinks and a bit of blues. All professionally done with the utmost elegance. If anyone could get away with making hot pink look like it belongs in an executive suite, it’s fucking Seven James.

She sits behind the desk, her long brown hair flowing down around her shoulders. There are dark circles under her eyes. Seven clearly slept as little as I did. I expect her to be pissed, to yell and shout like she normally would. She doesn't take shit from anyone, especially me.

Her eyes soften, though, as they pass over my body. I shrug my coat off and place it on the chair next to me, as I take a seat in the other plush office chair.

“Who did this to you, Star?” She’s upset.
With me?

The tears slowly start to flow, and eventually turn into full blown sobbing hysterics. I choke out her brother's name in between gasps for air. I try and control myself, but it’s too late. The flood gates are open, and I must tell her before I chicken out again.

“Seven, I didn't want to. I never wanted to. But he threatened to tell everyone what I did. He has held it over my head for years.”

I start to tell her. This is my first step to being free of Blue. All the threats of telling Seven our secret are gone. I will not allow him to have the upper hand anymore.

Confusion is written all over her face, but she sits quietly and listens to every word I purge from my soul.

My entire body heaves as I still struggle to catch my breath.

“Seven, I had a baby. Blue's baby. The year you left for college.” She’d left me behind with Blue, my sisters, and our parents. I wanted to leave with her, but she would have never had a fair shot at a real education if her wayward twin tagged along. I needed to let her go so she could become who
she
needed to be. And by God, if she fucking did.

I was pregnant when she left, and I sobbed like a baby as her little Honda Civic pulled out of the campground we were living in at the time. I will never forget the colder than usual spring day as she drove away, or the way I felt that night when I told my mother in confidence. I naively believed she would stand by my side. However, you would have thought I was a criminal the way she turned on me.

Seven rounds her desk and sits down in the chair next to me, spinning the chair until she faces me. Tears slowly pool at the edge of her eyes, encouraging my own hysterics. This woman never cries. Everything about her is the fucking epitome of tough as nails, and here she is, crumbling right alongside me.

But I can feel it. A weight has been lifted. The burden of this secret has weighed me down for far too long. The only person I continued to hide it from knows. She takes my hands and comforts me.

“I'm so sorry, Seven. I never meant to hurt you.” I take a deep breath. “I wish things were different. I just can't lie about it any longer. You deserve to know, and I shouldn't have kept this hidden this long.”

I want to drop to my knees and beg for her forgiveness. But she doesn't let me. Instead she comforts me. This is how our relationship has always been, and will always be. She is the protector. I am the victim. She is strong. I am weak. She is fucking bad ass. I am an epic coward.

“It's okay, Star. He won't hurt you again. I will make sure of that. I’m going to have Clyde take you to my penthouse until I get home. You are also going to fill out a police report detailing exactly what he did to you.”

I don't want to. I don't want the police involved, mostly because I don't remember large chunks of the previous night. I don't want to remember, either. But I listen, and I do everything Seven tells me to. I would walk right off a fucking bridge if she told me to, because I know deep in my heart, she would never steer me in the wrong direction. No matter how badly I fuck up. No matter how much I fuck her over. No matter what way I wrong her. She always forgives me.

I just nod and gather my things, then turn for the door. Her voice stops me once more.

“And Star?”

I turn back, and a small smile starts to pull at the corner of my mouth. I want to be happy, and this was my first step.

“Where’s the baby?”

The smile instantly fades. I wish I knew where she was. I wish I could answer her question. I wish I never gave up
my
Willow. I wipe a tear from the corner of my eye, before it spills down my cheek.

“I don't know, Seven. After she was born, my parents took her to a commune upstate, and I never saw her again. Christmas Day, she’ll be eleven.”

I turn and walk out the door before I start crying again. It hurts to think about Willow. It hurts to believe I was one of
those
women who just gave away her baby. I've kicked myself in the ass enough over the years.

When my parents took her from me, I wasn't ready to let her go. I didn't have a choice, though. Years have passed, but not a day has gone by that I don't want for her. If I am going to finally get my life right, I need to know she is happy, safe. Everything I never was when I was a little girl. I need to know she can have a good life. That the choice my parents made for me was truly the right one.

My journey to freedom will bring me right back to my little girl. Come hell or high water, I will find Willow. Or I will die trying.