CHAPTER FIVE
Starlet
I should be exhausted after the crazy night I had with Brick, but I’m not. For some reason, I’m wide awake and energized at five in the morning. I left the light in the bathroom on and pulled the door three-quarters shut so I can see him clearly. He’s asleep, on his side and facing me. Reaching out to caress his cheek, I stop short. Anything we had to say to each other happened yesterday. Why risk waking him unnecessarily? Nothing felt real about our time together, and I’d rather remember him as a fantasy.
Satisfied with that line of thinking, I crawl out of bed. My backpack is on the vanity. I have four outfits and two pairs of shoes inside it. I pick a pair of skinny jeans and cotton peasant top, grab a clean bra and underwear, then slip into the bathroom to get dressed. Five minutes later, I’m in front of the vanity mirror brushing my teeth and then combing my hair.
Afterward, I gather my purse and other belongings and stash them in my bag. I need to get out of here. I stop by the table near the door and write Brick a note on the motel stationary. How do I word this right? I sneak another glance his way. The sheet is pulled up to his waist, revealing his muscled chest and arms. If I pinched myself a dozen times, I still wouldn’t be convinced I slept with him—five times. Five. That’s obviously a first and last for me.
Everything I ever wanted in a man is sleeping in that bed, I find it a bit overwhelming. Should I let him know how good it felt. How much I’ll treasure the moments? Or would that be too much? No. I’ve spent nine years holding in my feelings—placating a psychopath I honestly hated. My dead husband has no power over me anymore, unless the Devil’s Crusaders find me. I’m done staying silent. I’m done sacrificing my happiness for the convenience of the brothers. I deserve some consideration, for my voice to be heard. Especially if I have something worthwhile to say.
I lower the pen to the tablet, determined to find the courage to scribble my thoughts down.
Dear Brick…
I hesitate and draw my hand back.
Dear Brick just sounds so ordinary, so lame.
Dear sexual god from another planet—universe—that sounds better. I smile.
Dearest Brick, I don’t know how to thank you for last night. First, for finding me in the rain, then giving me a ride to town. It’s difficult to trust strangers these days. But after last night, what we shared, I can’t exactly call you a stranger anymore. You know more about me, at least more of me, than any man I’ve ever met. Which is why I want to thank you again. You’re amazing. Funny. Incredibly beautiful. Everything I’m not. And just in case you’re thinking I’m a coward for running away without saying goodbye, please don’t. It took a lot for me to walk into this hotel room and wait for you. I’ll think of you often, Starlet.
I read it several times, letting the intimate words sink in. Is this what I want him to remember me by? My gaze shoots to the line, everything I’m not. That’s how little I think of myself after spending a lifetime with Sammy. He stole my confidence—convinced me I was stupid and worthless without him. Ugly inside makes you ugly outside, he’d say often enough.
My husband wreaked havoc on my life—disparaged me day-after-day. Now I’m free. I add a P.S. to the note and write those exact words. Now I’m free. With a satisfied nod, I secure my backpack on my shoulder, turn from the table, open the door, and walk out.
* * *
Brick
She’s gone. Not sure how I feel about it. No woman has left me asleep in bed after we had sex all night. Especially after what Starlet and I shared. I open my eyes and curse myself for having slept so long. It’s a first. She’s a first, really. There’s something about her…
I sit up and gaze around the room, then look at the alarm clock. Seven. Shit. I’d hoped to wake earlier and grab a big breakfast with her. I rake my fingers through my hair and walk to the sink. I stare in the mirror, debating whether I need to shave or not. I usually let the stubble grow for a few days. Fuck it. As I turn away, I see something on the counter.
An expired Louisiana driver’s license. Her full name is Starlet Renee Vega and she was born in September. If this is the only form of identification she has, she’ll need it. It’s expired by three months. Knowing I can’t do anything at the moment, I tuck it in the front pocket of one of my saddle bags, grab a clean shirt and jeans, and head for the shower.
Twenty minutes later as I take a last look around the room, I notice a note on the table. I read it twice. Jesus. The girl has a way with words. If I were the kind of man to really give a shit, I’d admit I felt the same. Maybe I do, somewhere deep down where all my suppressed emotions are safely kept. I tear the page off the tablet and tuck the note in my vest pocket. My instincts were right. The girl has been through hell. Well, if our lovemaking provided her with clarity, I’m glad. It did something for me, too.
And she thinks I’m beautiful. I laugh out loud. That’s another first. She’s the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen—hungry like I am. That’s hard to find in a woman. And the way she kisses me, it’s like she’s stealing my soul. I try to shake the sensation; the last thing I need is an erection.
After I lock the room, I walk to the lobby and the clerk smiles at me.
“Did you enjoy your stay?” she asks.
“Yes.” I ignore her flirtation. “Did an attractive redhead stop in here this morning?”
She frowns. “If you’re talking about the bottle redhead…”
“She’s a natural, checked for myself last night,” I inform her.
Her cheeks flush and she pretends to do something on her computer.
“Answer the question.”
Our gazes meet and then she eyes my patches. “About two hours ago. I called her a cab.”
“Did she say where she was going?”
“I didn’t ask.” She offers me a receipt and I stash it in my jeans.
“Thanks.” I leave the building and head for my bike.
Once I inspect everything and secure my bags, I check my cell for messages. There’s another text from Big Jim and a couple other calls I missed. Nothing that can’t wait. I start my bike and then merge with morning traffic on the main road, hoping to reach Interstate Forty-nine before the morning rush. Then it’s a straight shot to Shreveport where I’ll meet up with my new brothers.
On the way to the interstate, I pass Starlet’s car on the opposite side of the road. There’s nothing I can do about it now. She’s gone, and I’m on my way to starting a new life. Whatever or whoever she’s running from, I can only hope she finds peace and happiness. She seems so close and yet so far from it, like me. That’s what makes her so hard to shake. How often do you run into someone that reminds you of yourself? That distant look in her eyes, the wariness, but an obvious desire to overcome it and open up.
I curse myself for being so preoccupied with Starlet—the barrage of thoughts about her like a stampede in my head. So much so, I drift into the left lane. The car next to me honks, and I grit my teeth and open up the gas, speeding by the asshole and switching lanes.
The roar of my V-Twin engine quickly reminds me what I’m about and where I belong. Sometimes it’s hard being on the road so long. A woman like Starlet would make any man doubt himself when he’s starving for relief. I just need to keep reminding myself she’s nothing but a memory now, someone I met accidently.
If that’s the case, why’d did I keep her ID and the note?
Guess that’s something I’ll have to figure out. For now, I’m focused on Shreveport and the new charter.