Page 27 of Creed

“So we need to figure out where she’s going and we need to bring her home.”

“Home?”

Fuck. Wrong choice of words.

I clear my throat. “Back. With one of us, I mean. She shouldn’t be alone right now, as much as she thinks she needs to be. If I can find her, I can fly her out to you in Cali. You know, since you’re her family.”

“I agree that we need to get Collins back, as I should’ve been there for her all along. I let my own goddamned problems get in the way and I fucking let her down.” He pauses, sighing. “But I don’t know if it’s a good idea for her to stay with me.”

That shocks me. “Why?”

“Well for starters, I’ve got a fucking studio apartment with a twin mattress right now. I know you’re on tour, but if we find her—when we find her—can she stay with you on one of your buses?”

I rake my hands through my messy hair again, throwing myself back onto the bed with more force than necessary. This isn’t how I pictured my night ending, but fuck knows I won’t get a minute of sleep until we find Collins. Releasing my grip on my hair, I reach for the polaroid again. Holding it in the light creeping through the window of my bus, I take in her features again. There’s some kind of disconnect happening between my brain and my dick, where I know she’s Asher’s little sister, but fuck me, she looks like the wet dream of all my fantasies that I only want to drown myself in and never come up for air.

Taking her in if—when—I find her, would be a very fucking great idea. Terrible. Terrible idea, I mean.

“Creed?” Asher’s voice is like a welcomed cold bucket of ice water dumped over me.

“Yeah, let’s just find her and we’ll go from there.”

“Okay, keep me updated. I’ll call you soon.”

I hang up without a goodbye because I’m too goddamned distracted to do anything else. The second I pull the phone from my ear, I’m on the website for the airport I think Collins flew from and I’m checking recent flight departures. There are three headed out west that match up with the time she hung up on me. One flight to Seattle, one to Phoenix, and the last one flies out to Los Angeles.

I close out the browser and pull up the name of our band PI. It’s the middle of the night but right now I don’t fucking care.

I need to find her.

Chapter 13

Collins

ONE YEAR LATER (AGE 19)

Dear Creed,

This letter will never make it to you because I won’t be sending it. I guess old habits die hard because I still find myself writing letters to you, even knowing I’ll never mail it.

I know you’ve been looking for me, but like any other living ghost, I won’t be found. Your PI actually questioned me when he found me, but he asked about me as if he had no clue who I was. Creed, I really think you need a new PI if he didn’t figure it out.

Anywho, life has been…different. Easier, but not. Does that make any sense? When I landed, I started my search for a job. Yep. In the middle of the night. But I had almost no money and needed an income to be able to afford a place to live.

I looked for about three weeks while living in this shitty, seedy motel before I finally found work. As an exotic dancer. Yep. A glorified pole dancer. You’d probably shit yourself at the nickname they gave me. The place is sketchy as fuck because I’m pretty sure some of the girls here do more for the private clients than just dance. I refuse to be that girl though. The thought of anyone touching me, anyone who isn’t you… see, I wouldn’t admit that to anyone in a million years. But seeing as I’ll be burning this letter after I write it, why not?

So here’s another confession, the only orgasms I have are the ones I give myself…while thinking of you. I’ve always had eyes for you and only you, Creed. So when I close mine at night, your bright blue gaze that’s oozing sex with just a look? Yeah, that’s what I see when I fuck myself on my fingers at night. I’d never come so hard as the night they aired your concert live on the local tv station so I got to watch you melodically fuck the audience with your words. It was a few moments of pure bliss where I forgot just how shitty my life still is, but in a different way now.

Oh—

Should I also confess that I’ve become a crowd favorite at the club? This place is cheap as fuck and definitely deals in some shady shit, but I try to keep my head down and work my ass off—literally. Fortunately and unfortunately it only allows me to continue to afford the seedy motel room. Yep, I’m still here. One week turned into one year.

The girls from the club took me out dancing and to get a new tattoo a few weeks ago for my 19th birthday, only to return to my motel room to find my boss waiting for me at the door. He’s a fucking creep who lost a client group because I refused to let them fuck me during a private dance. He now thinks I’m indebted to him and takes half of my earnings because of what I “cost him”. The fucking prick.

I really thought that coming out here would have allowed me to turn my life around. That it would be like the books that have badass main characters who take life into their own hands and make something important of themselves to prove to the world that you don’t need anyone but yourself to be strong and successful.

Boy was I fucking wrong.

I may have escaped a life of abuse, but all I did was trade one prison for another. Only problem is, now I’m stuck. I don’t know how to turn my life around. I can’t afford college. I don’t have musical talent like you, or athleticism like Asher. I’m just…me. But right now it’s not good enough.

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