The Rockstar's Redemption

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Where... Where am I?"

I startle at the hurt sound of a voice.

Oh, God.

Reid Colleman has woken up.

I turn slowly, so carefully. However, that doesn't stop me from throwing some books on the floor from my little desk.

As giddy as ever my sweet Willa, my mother would say.

Reid's eyes watch me intently. There is curiosity and distrust in his gaze, as if he suspects something wrong with me.

"How are you" I ask cautiously, needing to know his condition. I've already lowered his infection, so the pain must have subsided. He has been between consciousness and unconsciousness for the last three days, seeming to be really present until now.

But he doesn't answer me anything, on the contrary, his brown eyes sparkle with recognition, as if he has remembered something very important. He stands up, clearly intending to leave. Before his two feet touch the floor, he falls back onto the bed abruptly. Almost instinctively I move closer, but I stop when his hard stare tells me that having me near him is the last thing he wants.

His hard eyes never leave me at any moment, measuring my every move. I suspect he thinks I'm going to pull out a knife and bury it in his chest at any moment... or something like that.

Doesn't he remember that I saved his life?

Not to be presumptuous, but he should look at me with more kindness. After all, I'm taking a risk to help him.

"Does your abdomen and leg hurt too much...?"

"Where am I?" He interrupts me, the force of his gaze pinning me in place.

"You're at my house," I manage to say. "Don't you remember anything?"

His eyes follow my movements intently as I approach him. His gaze is so penetrating and so full of power. He's demanding, I'm sure he could command an army with just looks, no need for words. But also, his gaze is so brooding. I see him there, behind that hardness he wants to show. He is such a sad person.

"Willa, my name is Willa" I sit carefully on the corner of the bed farthest away from him, I make a meticulous effort not to touch him. "Three days ago I found you injured in an alley... which you probably don't remember" I mumble stupidly at the end, because it's obvious he doesn't know. "You were badly beaten, with a stab wound in your leg and another in your abdomen..."

"Where am I?" He interrupts me again.

"At my house" I answer immediately, haven't I already told him?

He denies once, a grimace forming on his lips and I suspect that the movement has made his head hurt. No wonder, he's too beaten up.

"And where is your house?"

Oh.

"In Beaufort," seeing that he says nothing, I add, "It's a small town in South Carolina..."

"I know where it is" and yes, he interrupts me again.

I look away, avoiding clicking my tongue in annoyance.

We stand in awkward silence for what I think is an infinite number of minutes. He seems to be deep in thought. I, on the other hand, am trying to figure it out.

"Wha...?"

"How much did they pay you to bring me here?"

"Forgive me?"

"Who wanted to kill me?"

He... he...

"How am I supposed to know that?"

"You have me here" look at his bandaged leg. "Against my own will."

What the...?

"You can leave whenever you want, believe me."

His stupid eyes open a tiny bit wider for a millisecond, for the first time a feeling other than distrust glimpsed in his eyes: surprise.

"I can't move. I can't move my leg."

"What a regret" but my voice says the complete opposite, as if I'm glad he's hurt.

Holy Mother.

I almost think I see his lips lift slightly at one corner, in the tiniest hint of a smile I've ever seen in my life, but it's such a quick thing that I'm not sure it actually happened.

"Why am I here... Blue?"

"Willa" I correct, but he doesn't seem to care. I sigh with resignation and then blurt out the words, "Look, you're being totally rude to the person who saved your life, you know?"

That gets his attention, his gaze shines with questions, but since I know he's not going to talk, I continue: "I found you almost dead in the alley two blocks from here. I was going to call the police and an ambulance, but you yourself asked me not to."

"And you obeyed me" his voice is implying something that is not considerate.

What does he think, that I've done this on purpose, that I've kidnapped him because I want him with me? But who the hell does he think he is?

Oh, right.

He's Reid Colleman, the most famous rock singer in the country...and maybe the world.

When I cleaned his face after healing him, I connected the dots. Or his features. Long brown hair with incipient beard, muscular and well-defined body with lots of tattoos covering his skin. I recognized him, and how could I not? The man is even in the blessed morning paper. Especially in the last few weeks since, on the day I found him almost dead, he had a concert in Columbia, the state capital. The concert had been advertised - no lie - almost all year. For a small town where almost nothing happens, everyone was talking about it. The famous rock star would be visiting our state. I'm sure my teenage neighbor traveled the probably four hours to hear him sing, and many more fans in this town.

Then, bam! Suddenly, I find him. Dying.

The irony of life?

I give nothing for his fame, a reason that increases my irritation at his foolish accusations.

I wanted to call the police ten thousand times after I learned his identity, but he made me promise him something. And as much as I wanted to get rid of him, I could not.

A promise is unbreakable.

At least, it is for me.

"You told me that, if I called the police or an ambulance, they would find you and you would end up dead" I say softly, trying to calm down.

"So you brought me here and you took care of me yourself and saved my life. Just like that, in a completely altruistic action" the tone with which he says it is not at all pleasant.

"What are you implying?"

"I'm insinuating that either you work for the people who did this to me" he studies me boredly before blurting out: "or you're a fan who took her chance and has me locked up in her scruffy house."

I ignore his insult to my place, focus on something more alarming.

"What kind of crazy woman do you think I am?" I shriek, indignant. "No, what kind of fan do you have?"

But he doesn't respond, no.

He doesn't waste extra words and has already given his opinion of me.

Reid is just waiting for my answer.

"I'm not your fan" I point at him with one of my fingers. "I don't have time in my life to be concerned with the dramas and nonsense that a rock star like you can live through."

He stares at me for several seconds. His gaze is so intense that for a moment I'm about to look away, but I don't. I'm not going to let him intimidate me.

"That leaves us with the other option. You work for the people who did this to me."

Okay!

I stand up abruptly and walk straight for the door. But things are never easy with me, no. I give a high squeal as I slam my knee against the wood of the bed.

Oh, sh...!

And so I ruin what I intended to be a proud exit.

I hold my knee and I'm sure I look ridiculous trying to look angry, but I can't help but look sore.

"Nice to meet you, you can get the hell out of here anytime" I grab my backpack without daring to look at him, feeling too humiliated by my own awkwardness. "I have a shift at the hospital, so hopefully, when I get back, I'll be pleasantly surprised to find that you're no longer at my house. Good luck in your life, rock star.

And I leave, wishing with all my might that I would never meet his face again in my life.

|...|

"Are you still here?"

He looks at me for a second, then his eyes fall back to my computer resting on his thighs, not answering me at all. Reid Colleman even has my headphones on, the bold i***t.

I refrain from rolling my eyes because I'm so tired. Today was rough and the last thing I need is to have an argument with this guy. Although, considering how much he talks, you can hardly call a monologue a discussion.

However, curiosity calls me when I ask: "How did you know the password to my computer?"

Without taking his eyes off the screen, he answers: "Your name."

Whatever.

I look for a pair of pajamas in my closet, a towel and go into the bathroom to quickly clean myself. I don't look at him at all, he doesn't look at me either. We ignore each other and I thank heaven for that. But alas, just as I'm about to go to sleep on the couch, the damn worry hits me. He hasn't eaten anything all day. And if I'm hungry, Reid must be even hungrier.

Reluctantly, hating myself for not being able to return the indifferent treatment he gives me, I make a sandwich and a quick smoothie from the last of the strawberries left in my fridge. I leave it quietly on the nightstand next to him and slip outside.

He doesn't say anything, not even a simple thank you.

|...|

Three days after Reid is secretly staying at my house, we've already fallen into a pattern. The famous star has taken over my only room, which also has the only bathroom, so I run into him all the time. But it's like he's not there, he doesn't even look at me. I don't look at him either. The only time we interact is when I, taking pity on the not-so-dying man, bring him food. Why do I do that? I don't know since not even a thank you has come out of his ungrateful mouth.

I keep thinking that all this is shocking, having him under my roof, in my bed. But I don't do anything to change things. If I'm honest, I feel sorry for him. Behind all his indifference, his look seems so sad, so... empty.

However, I need to know how long we're going to do this because I'm tired of sleeping on the couch for someone I don't even like.

"When are you going to leave here?" I finally ask, standing in front of him with my arms crossed, trying to look intimidating.

He lifts his gaze from my computer to stare at me for several seconds and finally, after days, he deigns to speak to me: "There's nothing about me in show business."

Oh. My. God.

"When are you going to leave my house?"

"There's not a single news item about me on the internet, Blue."

"Willa" I correct in a tired sigh, not making sense of his stupid name on me. "Look, your presence doesn't feel pleasant to me, so I'd like to know when you'll finally..."

"Don't you think it's weird?"

Why does he always interrupt my words?

"Oh, yes," I nod. "It's totally weird having you in my house, someone so obnoxious and hateful that he could compete his role as a villain with Hitler himself."

Rarely does he stare at me for several seconds.

"If there's no news of me on the internet, it means no one knows what happened to me."

To hell with it.

"Stay as long as you want, but let's continue on this plan; you don't recognize my existence and I don't recognize yours, rock star."

"Willa, understand what I'm saying" he keeps talking. "Nobody knows what happened to me."

"And?"

He makes a thoughtful gesture, seeing himself so immersed in his hateful mind.

"I had my suspicions, but this may confirm it. Whoever did this to me works for me, is someone I trust."

I look at him strangely. "Are you sure about that?"

"Maybe, not completely, but it could be an option."

"You..." I go over his words in my mind. "Are you telling me that someone you trust planned this, in order to do what?"

"I can't trust you" he looks at my computer again. "You are a stranger who can cause me more trouble."

Yes, I'm the one causing trouble for the other.

Of course.

"Whatever you say, Reid."

I turn and walk away.

|...|

In a new pattern we've established, another three days later he speaks to me again.

"Two days ago I presented a concert in New York," he says, sipping from the orange juice I've left on the nightstand.

"Congratulations, you can be in two places at the same time."

Before leaving the room, his words stop me: "I have a twin, it was him, I'm sure of it."

What?

I look at him. "Are you telling me he stole your identity?"

He doesn't answer, just raises his eyebrow at me with a hateful expression on his face.

Reid Colleman doesn't repeat himself.

Taking a deep breath, I begin: "Can you tell me when I'm going to get rid of you? You're obnoxious, I don't like you and you don't like me. You take up my bed, my bath, my water, my light..."

"I'll pay you for all this."

"When?"

"Soon."

Soon. My ass.

I run my hand over my forehead, thinking.

"Do you at least have something planned?"

He doesn't answer me.

Taking more patience from I don't know where, I continue: "I don't know what's going on in your life, or what problems you have, but if you affect me in any way, I..." I think about it, looking at his bored expression that makes me feel insignificant.

He is so annoying.

"What would you do?" He urges me to continue my words.

Oh, he wants my rudeness.

"I'd kick your ass."

He snorts as if I'm ridiculous and when I open my mouth to speak, he says monotonously: "You talk too much."

No, I don't talk too much, it's just that he never talks.

"What the hell am I doing?" I scream, putting my hands to my head. "I must be crazy to be helping you."

"I'll pay you well."

He's so... I can't find words.

I don't want to be in his annoying presence anymore, so ignoring someone for the first time and not feeling bad for doing so, I turn around while saying: "I'm crazy, I'm crazy, I'm crazy...".

And as I leave for my shift at the hospital, I pray that when I return the rock star is not in my bed.

Of course... that doesn't happen.