White Trash Damaged

“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.

“I don’t think this is me.” I frowned as I tugged on the hem of the sorry excuse for a dress.

“You who? The waitress? Come on. Live a little. You may discover there is more to you than that girl you left behind.” Sarah tugged me into the cramped bathroom, her body pressed between the wall and my back as she smiled into the mirror in front of me. As my eyes left hers and drifted over myself, my breath caught in my throat. I didn’t recognize the girl staring back at me. Scratch that, it was a woman staring back at me, and she was hot.

“How in the hell did you do that?” I leaned over the sink, inspecting my flawless makeup. I was certain Sarah was going to paint me up like I belonged in one of the bands, but instead it looked . . . natural. I still felt like me.

“Tucker is going to go crazy.” Her lips pulled up in a smile, but her eyes were full of sadness.

“I don’t think Eric is going to mind finding you in his bus either.” I laughed as she pinched my side, causing me to squirm.

“Come on. I’m sure he is elbow-deep in groupies.”

“No.” I shook my head as I thought back to the little time I had spent with Eric. “I honestly think he enjoys being all miserable and cranky.”

“Well, he is in good company then.”

“You know, if you ever want to talk about it . . .”

Sarah brushed a curl from my face and grabbed my arm, pulling me from the tiny room.

“Let’s go see if we can catch the guys as they come offstage.”

She dragged me out of the bus and into the packed building that was now overflowing with groupies and fans. I felt like I was naked in a room full of people. I let my hair fall over my face to help hide myself as we twisted through the maze of halls and through security.

Damaged was finishing up the last song of their set, and as I listened to Tucker’s smooth voice sing about love, I completely forgot what I was so worried about. Sarah and I sang along. We swayed to the music as Sarah stared at Eric with a far-off look in her eye.

“I see you staring,” I joked as I bumped her with my shoulder. She shot me a playful glare, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Nothing in the rules about looking.”

The chorus faded out as the crowd grew impossibly loud, begging for an encore. Tucker waved to the crowd and thanked them for coming, and as his eyes fell on me, his words caught in his throat. I could feel the blush crawl over my body from my toes all the way to my cheeks as his lips curled up in a flirtatious grin.

“Maybe one more song. How does that sound?” He spoke into the microphone and everyone went wild.