“To a label. A big label.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist and hugged him. I loved his drive, his ambition, his faith in Damaged.
“It will happen soon. I can feel it.”
He kissed the top of my head, hugging me back with his hands full of shopping bags.
“That’s the plan.”
The door to the bus opened and Eric stepped out, glaring at us as he lit a cigarette. He propped himself against the van.
“Spending up all of his money already?” Eric asked, staring straight ahead as he took a long drag from his cigarette.
“It’s not like that. I needed clothes.” I rolled my eyes as Tucker placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me to the stairs.
“If you say so,” E mumbled under his breath as Tucker and I stepped inside.
“Why is he like that? So angry all the time?” I followed Tucker to Dorris’s room. He placed my bags on her bed and began pulling out the contents. “And where the hell is Dorris?”
Tucker sighed, running his hands through his hair as he sank down onto the bed.
“She is still our manager, but she’s just . . . managing from afar right now. After having to deal with Lizzy for a few weeks, she began to distance herself from the band.” He paused. “And when she found out I was coming for you . . .” His voice trailed off, and he rested his head in his hands.
“She left because of me?” I could feel the bile rising in my throat.
“No. No. She left because this isn’t how she planned on spending her golden years.” He laughed sardonically and took my hand in his. We both fell back onto the pile of clothing. “I hope she changes her mind.”
I squeezed his hand empathetically. It must be tough to feel so close to your big break and yet suddenly abandoned by the person who was supposed to be your biggest advocate. Suddenly I felt even worse for leaving when I did.
“No, it’s okay. Dorris is finding us a new manager, and in the meantime, she is still taking care of us. Just from a distance.” His free hand trailed down my jaw, and he ran his thumb over my bottom lip. “Everything is fine.”
“Tuck, you wanna work on those songs?” Terry leaned against the door frame. Tucker sighed heavily as he stood from the bed. He held out his hand to help me up.
“Just give me a chance to change.” I stood, catching my balance before turning to the bags of clothing.
“Actually,” Tucker began, and I turned to face him, new shirt in hand. “We need to work on some of those
I scrunched my eyebrows together and dropped the shirt on the bed next to me. I didn’t know what part bothered me more. The fact that he would be working on songs about how much I had hurt him, or that he didn’t want me there while he did it.
“We need some new tracks to give to the producers.” His fingers slipped through his ruffled hair.
“Yeah, no problem. I’ll just hang out here.” I gave a small forced smile. He returned the smile and kissed me lightly on the forehead.
“I’ll be back soon.” He turned and left the room behind Terry. I sunk back down onto the bed and let myself collapse back onto the bags, pushing out a heavy breath.
I wondered how I was going to spend the next few hours. Suddenly, I felt alone . . . adrift. I realized that I needed to start earning my keep, contributing to the tour in some way if this was going to be my life—
I got up and changed into a new pair of jeans and a baby blue tank top. I couldn’t get on board with the “pre-torn” style that seemed very much in vogue; I bought my pants perfectly intact, knowing full well I would wear them long enough for the holes to form naturally. I slipped my feet back into my sandals and tied my hair back into a messy ponytail, tucking back the stray stands behind my ears.
I sighed and made my way out of the bus and down the short flight of stairs. The weather was warm in the direct sun but not as overbearing as Georgia. I took in a deep breath and surveyed my surroundings. Directly across from the mall and across the highway was a local grocery store. Stepping inside the store, I grabbed the circular off the stand as I made my way to aisle one, eyeballing the coupons and trying to remember how much money remained in my bank account.
I made my way up and down the aisles as I daydreamed about Tucker’s performance last night. I couldn’t imagine how it must feel to pour your heart out on paper and perform it for the world. It was amazing to watch him light up on stage.
“Damaged girl,” a voice called from behind me, shaking me from my thoughts. I spun around to see the lead singer of Filth standing in front of me, looking surprisingly normal.
“That’s me, I guess.”
“I’m Sarah.” She grabbed a box of Lucky Charms from the shelf and tossed it in her cart.
“Cass.” I smiled as I chewed nervously on my lip.
“I heard about what you did last night with that groupie. Cool move. It is so hard to find people you can trust in this business.”
I smiled, grateful that at least someone knew I was looking out for the guys. “I can imagine.”
She began to push her cart by me and I followed, scanning the shelves for anything I thought the guys might like.
“Sitting on that bus is gonna get boring.” She glanced back over her shoulder at me and I nodded.
“I’ll find something to keep myself occupied.” I shrugged as I looked at boxes of instant oatmeal and read over the flavors.
“Just keep your distance from the groupies. I know you probably learned your lesson last night.” She laughed. “They will do whatever they can to break up your relationship and take your place.”
“I’m not worried about Tucker.”
“Good. Trust is important. He’s a good guy. Here.” She tossed a box of fruit snacks in my cart. “That is the key to Eric’s heart.” She winked, and I couldn’t help but smile genuinely in gratitude.
“You two?”
“No. It’s not like that. I mean, he’s nice. . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“Ha! Are we talking about the same guy?”
“I know how he seems to everyone else, but . . . I don’t know. I’ve only talked to him a handful of times, but he is sweet, ya know? There’s more going on there than he lets on.”
“If you say so.”
“I mean, I don’t let him talk shit. I stand up for myself, and I think he digs that. I put a stop to the ‘that’s what she said’ bullshit real fast.”
“What does that even mean?” I laughed as we turned the corner to the next aisle.
“I don’t know. It’s stupid. You have to be tough when you’re stuck around a bunch of guys all the time.”
We had reached the school supplies and paper products. Sarah picked up a spiral notebook and examined the cover.
“I need a new book to write in.” She considered it quietly for a moment before tossing it in her cart. “What is it you do, Cass?”
“Huh?” I looked at her, confused.
“Or want to do? You know, what’s your jam, what’s your identity? Sing? Cook? Rock climb? Cage fight?” She elbowed me, and I laughed. “I know being on the road doesn’t really give you the chance to hold down a steady career, but there’s gotta be something you love to do besides sit around in that trailer waiting for Tucker all day?”
“I’m not really sure.” I grabbed a notebook off the stack, wondering if Tucker would like it. I hadn’t really thought about what I wanted to do. . . . All I’d wanted was an escape . . . and to be with Tucker and support him. But I hadn’t yet considered my own passions and dreams.
“That’s cute. You should get that one. Use it for a diary.”
