White Trash Damaged

“Love you,” I mouthed, and Tucker winked at me as they disappeared in the opposite direction.

I focused my attention on the sweaty and overly excited rock star who was dragging me off into the unknown.

“Where are we going?” I asked as she shot me a smile.

“I figured after the drama, you could use a little pampering.”

I pulled back from her, but she kept a firm grip on my arm.

“Every girl needs to be pampered, and I don’t ever get to do this stuff.” She gave me her best puppy-dog eyes.

We slipped inside a closed door marked PRIVATE.

“What is this place?”

“Hair and makeup.” She was beaming with excitement. “Sit.”

“This is going to be a disaster.” I sat down in a chair in front of a large oval mirror.

“That’s the spirit!” Sarah stood behind me, sinking down so her face was next to mine as she inspected my reflection. “I can work with this.”

I giggled as I rolled my eyes, propping my feet up on the bar below the mirrored stand.

“So how is the writing going?” she asked as she grabbed a brush and began running it over my hair.

“Hold still, Cassie. Mommy can’t braid your hair if you keep squirming like a worm in your seat!” The memories of my mother flooded my thoughts, and I was overwhelmed with how much I missed the little moments we had together. I wished I had told her how much those times meant to me before she died.

“Hello? Earth to Cass!”

“Sorry. I wrote a song . . . I think. The guys really liked it. They want to play it.”

Sarah made a face letting me know she was impressed.

“Well aren’t you big-time now?” She gathered my hair and pulled it back with a hair tie. “How do you feel about makeup?”

“Repulsed.”

“Good enough. I am going to paint you up like a movie star.” Sarah spun my chair around to face her. “No peeking until I’m done.”

“You’re wasting your time. It’s like putting lipstick on a pig.” I laughed and actually snorted.

“You don’t have many female friends, do you?” She raised an eyebrow as she grabbed some sort of base coat to slather on my face.

“Do you?”

“None,” she said as she began to rub the creamy concoction over my cheeks. “It’s nice to have you here.”

I smiled, feeling exactly the same way.

“Now stop grinning or you’re gonna look like the Joker.”

I let her paint my face as we talked about love and relationships. I told her the story of how Tucker and I met, leaving out the most gruesome details of our relationship. She told me about her relationship with Derek and how it took them months to be able to be around each other after it ended. In the end, she felt the breakup was the best thing for them and the band.

“What do you think of Eric?” I asked as she pulled my hair down and ran her fingers through it, deciding which style she wanted to try.

“He’s . . . cute.” Her cheeks blushed.

“I think he likes you. When he looks at you, it is the only time he doesn’t look like he is plotting out someone’s murder.” I closed my eyes as her fingers rubbed over my scalp, separating my hair into sections.

“Too bad our band has a policy not to get involved with other bands.” She shrugged like it was no big deal, but I could tell it upset her.

“Who better than someone who has a passion for the same things you do?” I asked.

“The guys would kill me. How do you feel about curls?”

“They’re okay, I guess. You’re changing the subject.”

“How would you feel if you broke up with Tucker and still had to work with him? Would you be able to see him with someone else?”

“I think it would break my heart all over again.”

“Exactly. I keep my mouth shut about Derek and his groupies, but it still hurts. I understand why he doesn’t want to see me with one of these other guys. I get it.” Sarah began to curl small sections of my hair as we chatted. I could completely understand her situation, but I couldn’t imagine how lonely it must be for her.

“Can I look in the mirror?” I asked, craning my neck as it began to stiffen.

“No! It would spoil all the fun! I want it to be a surprise!”

“I hate surprises.”

“Not all surprises are bad.” She laughed as she pulled another section free to curl.

“Fine, I’ll wait,” I smirked. “But I am not happy about it.”

“Duly noted.” Sarah continued to work her fingers through my hair, bringing my thoughts back to my mother. It was one of the few fond memories I had of her. It was also one of the worst when I looked back at the way my father had put her down and prevented her from following her dreams.

“You look like a princess,” my mother praised me as she finished curling my hair. I ran off to my room to pull on my favorite dress, excited to surprise my father for his birthday. He had been at work all day and was due home two hours ago. After checking the clock for the hundredth time, she finally took my hand and walked me down to O’Brian’s, a local bar that Daddy sometimes went to after work to unwind with his friends.

As we walked through the door, she stopped, trying to pull me back outside, but I saw my dad sitting at the bar. I pulled my hand free from hers and ran to him. He was shocked but surprised when I yelled happy birthday.

“This certainly is a surprise.” His eyes narrowed as they locked on Momma who was still standing by the door, tears falling down her cheeks.

“I’ll call you later,” he said quickly to the woman sitting next to him. I hadn’t even noticed she was there, but Momma did, and she didn’t look very happy.

“I think we are just about done.” Sarah squealed and clasped her hands together.

“Can I see?”

She made a face as she thought it over before shaking her head no.

“I think you need a new outfit.”

“I don’t really have anything . . .” I let my voice trail off as Sarah’s eyes began to sparkle.

“You can borrow something of mine. I have the perfect outfit.”

“I don’t think I could fit in your clothes.” I sunk back against the chair.

“Whatever! You’re like ten pounds thinner than me. My clothes will look hot on you. Come on. Tucker will be offstage soon!”

I reluctantly pushed from my seat and followed Sarah through the maze of halls and to her tour bus. I folded my arms over my chest and tapped my foot like a stubborn child as she dug through her cabinet full of clothing, tossing shirts and skirts behind her as she sifted through the mess.

“Perfect!” She held up a dress and spun around to face me. Between her fingers was a scrap of fabric that I couldn’t be certain was a doily or an old fancy handkerchief like the one Larry used to blow his nose in at the diner.

“Where is the rest of it?”

Sarah frowned as she looked from the dress to me.

“You don’t like it?”

“I mean, I’m sure you look hot in it. It’s just . . . not me.” I began to fidget, picking at my fingernail nervously. Sarah’s shoulders slumped, and she sighed dramatically.

“Tell me who you are Cass.” Her eyebrow raised as she challenged me.

“I don’t know. I’m a waitress.” I began to mentally tick off the things in my head that I thought defined who I was.

“You’re not a waitress . . . or at least not a good one. You have been missing an awful lot of work.” She laughed, and I narrowed my eyes at her.

“Okay . . . I’m just plain.”

“Plain?” she asked like the word left a bad taste in her mouth.

“Yeah.” I stuck out my chin defiantly.

“You happy with being plain?”

I shrugged my shoulders, not sure how I could respond honestly and not lose the argument.

“Ughh . . . fine. I’ll try on the stupid napkin.” I grabbed the dress from her hand, and she stuck her tongue out at me in victory. I rolled my eyes, and she pointed to the door that hid the master bedroom at the back of the bus. I slid it open and my hands flew up to cover my mouth at the sight of naked, writhing bodies that suddenly appeared before my eyes. Sarah stood frozen by my side like a deer in headlights before she grabbed my arm, digging her nails in just a little too deep as she yanked me back down the hallway and off the bus. As soon as we hit the warm nighttime air, she hunched over, hands on her knees as she struggled to control her breathing.

“What . . .” That was the only word I could choke out. Sarah just shook her head as her breathing now sounded more like sobs. I placed my hand on her back, hesitantly, trying to soothe her. It was then that I put two and two together that her ex-boyfriend had been in that tangle of bodies in the back of the bus. “I’m sorry.” I wasn’t used to anyone needing my help or wanting my comfort. It was an odd feeling. I gripped Sarah’s forearms and pulled her back up to a standing position as she swiped away the tears that had mixed with charcoal-black eyeliner and run down her face.

“Come on. You can come on our bus.” She nodded, and I kept my arms around her as I guided her to the other side of the monstrous vehicle and pulled open the door for her.

As soon as we were inside and alone I sat her at the small kitchen table.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, sliding into the seat across from her. She shook her head as every negative emotion flashed through her eyes. She scratched over a faded tattoo on the underside of her arm, leaving white lines of damaged skin across its surface. She looked desperate and heartbroken.

“You’re not really over him, are you?” I asked, hoping to open a line of communication.

“Is it that obvious?” She laughed sadly as she stared down at her tattoo.

“Was that for him?”

“It was . . . but I honestly think it was more for me. If I put him on me permanently, maybe he couldn’t leave, ya know? That sounds stupid.”

“It’s not stupid. Can I see?” I held out my hand to take her arm. She hesitated before extending her arm to me so I could look over the design. “Rock?” I asked as I read over the script.

“He was my rock. He kept me grounded.” She rolled her eyes and smiled, “And rock and roll was something we had in common.” I could see her mood lighten as the memories washed over her and her fingers traced the script.

“I like it. Very clever.” I stared down at her arm. As the pink lines from her nails began to fade, I could clearly see old scars beneath it. “What is that?” I tried to keep any judgment from my expression.

“Nothing.” She pulled her arm back and slipped it below the table. “Are you gonna try that on or what? The guys will be back any minute.”

“Yeah.” I lifted the little black dress before pushing up from the table and making my way down the hall to Dorris’s old room. “The bathroom is right there if you want to fix your mascara.” I pointed to the tiny bathroom beside me before I disappeared into the bedroom.

I slipped off my clothes as I wondered how Sarah had gotten those marks on her arm. I held the dress up in front of me as I tried to figure out how the hell to put it on. I wiggled my arms between two thin straps and slipped it over my head. I’d never worn anything so tight . . . or that left so little to the imagination. It dipped low in the chest, rose high on the thigh, and the back was nonexistent.

I wiggled my feet back into my sandals and let out a long, frustrated sigh. I wasn’t sure who I was, but this wasn’t it. It was so far out of my comfort zone I needed a passport to wear it.

“Stop second-guessing yourself, and get your sexy little ass out here,” Sarah yelled, louder than necessary.