White Trash Damaged

I rolled my eyes, hating that he was slipping back into his anger and depression.

“No, you don’t. So you’re kind of an asshole sometimes. What he just did was no better than anything you’ve done.”

Eric laughed and shook his head as his eyes met mine.

“Of course you wouldn’t know.”

“Know what?”

“Tucker and I have a complicated past.”

“Define ‘complicated,’ because my past is as complicated as they come.”

“Not here.” He glanced around the parking lot before spotting something off in the distance. “Come on.” He grabbed my hand again and pulled me across the expansive maze of parking lots.

My legs were quaking, and my back was throbbing as we reached a little dive bar called Corner Pocket. I followed Eric inside as my mind raced, wondering what he was going to tell me. He wasn’t the type to open up, so I knew whatever it was, it was a big step for him.

He didn’t say anything as he scanned the tiny bar. He walked up to the counter and ordered us two shots of Jack Daniel’s and a Coke for me. I waited as the bartender filled his order, and I looked around at the smattering of patrons. I noticed a jukebox off in the corner on the other side of the bar and rounded it to see what kind of music they had. I wanted to listen to something sad, something that reflected the way I felt inside. Hollow, hurting.

Suddenly I felt so lost. I had no idea what was going on with my life anymore. Everything seemed to have fallen into place a few days ago, and just that quickly it had all disappeared out from under me. It was my biggest fear. After my father left when I was younger, I was always afraid of being alone. That was one of the reasons I couldn’t leave Jax. Anything felt better than being alone. And now I was facing that reality once again.

“Here.” I jumped as Eric’s hot breath blew over the back of my neck, startling me. He reached around me holding a shot glass.

I took it and let the liquid burn fire down my throat. He handed me the soda with a smirk, and I slurped it down, grateful he had gotten me a chaser. I wiped the back of my hand over my lips as I took in a deep breath.

“You almost drink like a rock star.” He laughed, but his eyes were sad.

“You wanted to talk?” I asked as I looked over the tables.

“You want some music?” He dug in his pockets and pulled out quarters. “I asked the bartender for change.”

“Thanks.” I smiled back, even though happiness was the last emotion I felt. I turned back to the jukebox and picked a few old country songs I remembered from childhood. No one did sadness like country crooners.

We made our way to a small table in the corner. Eric folded his hands together and looked down at his fingers, not saying anything. I didn’t want to pressure him, knowing he probably felt as bad as I did after being kicked out of the band.

“He didn’t mean it,” I said, hoping I didn’t need to elaborate and speak Tucker’s name.

“Yeah, he did.” Eric looked up, his eyes reflecting the pain in mine. The warmth of the alcohol began to warm my body, and I relaxed in my seat.

“I don’t care about me, but you getting hurt is crossing a line.”

“I’m used to it.” I knew how bad that sounded, and I wished I could take it back.

“I know he didn’t mean to knock you down.” His jaw clenched. “But he did, and he deserves to get his ass kicked for it.”

“Please, no more fighting.” I knew Tucker hadn’t meant for me to fall—that wasn’t what upset me. Eric nodded, understanding my need to let it settle.

“When I was in high school, I loved life.” He smirked at the memory. He held up two fingers and the bartender nodded at him. “I need another drink for this.”

“Did you all go to high school together?” I asked as the bartender set two shot glasses full of amber liquid in front of us.

“No.” He took his shot and drank it back, not even grimacing at its harsh taste. I did the same, but my lips puckered, and I took another drink from my soda.

“I went to Radley High, home of the Rockets. I was on the football team and everything.”

“I can’t picture that.”

He laughed.

“A lot has changed since then.”

I nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“I had the perfect life, the perfect girlfriend. She was . . .” He didn’t finish his thought.

“What happened?”

“She moved. Broke my heart. First love is a bitch, but we stayed in contact. I loved her. I couldn’t let her go. She was my whole world.”

“That must have been hard.”

“I would have done anything for her.” He smiled, his eyes glazing over as he held up his fingers again to the bartender. “We only lived twenty minutes away from each other, but when you aren’t old enough to drive, it might as well be a million miles. Living in different school districts made it worse. We tried to see each other on the weekends whenever we could. Eventually our parents got sick of driving us. My mom tried to tell me it was a good thing. I could focus on my future.” He shook his head and leaned on the table. “She was my fucking future.” The bartender sat down our drinks, and Eric took his like it was water.

I swallowed hard, preparing myself to down the drink.

“Don’t think about it. Just do it.”

I did, and the shot went easily down now that I was beginning to feel the effects of the others. Unfortunately, being intoxicated only magnified the sadness in my gut. I didn’t want to think about Tucker.

“You drifted apart?”

“Nah, absence makes the heart grow fonder. I called her constantly, I wrote her songs.”

“You had it bad.” We both laughed as the song switched and a new one began to play. Eric listened as the singer began to tell of her own heartbreak.

“When my brother died . . .” His jaw muscles jumped under his skin, and I knew it was hurting him to talk about it. My eyes lingered on his swollen busted lip. Regardless of their issues, I knew Eric saw Tucker and the others as his brothers . . . and he had just lost them as well. “I went crazy. I wouldn’t talk to anyone. I only wanted her. I stole my mother’s car. I had my permit at the time, even though I was seventeen. That’s another story.”

“I still don’t have my license,” I confessed, and Eric let out a guttural laugh. I smiled, letting the alcohol sway my mood.

“Why the hell not?”

“I never had a car.” I shrugged. “Tucker doesn’t really have time to teach me. Not that I could drive that stupid bike.”

He laughed, but I stared down at my soda, hoping I could keep from crying.

“I can teach you,” he said, his tone level and serious.

“Thanks . . . but you don’t have a car either.”

“Technicality. You need to learn to drive. You need to be independent.”

“Huh . . . I never really thought about it. So when did you get your license?”

He frowned and adjusted in his seat.

“I didn’t.”

It was my turn to laugh.

“Keep it down. You’re going to ruin my street cred.” He rolled his eyes. I signaled to the bartender, and Eric cocked his eyebrow at me.

“You’re not the only one who wants to numb the pain.” I shrugged and took a sip of my soda.

“Right.” He paused, and I looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue. “That night”—he swallowed hard as he struggled not to let the emotions of that time take over—“I stole my mom’s car. Shit, that sounds bad. I drove to my girlfriend’s house and she wasn’t home. That was normal. Her mother seemed shocked to see me,