White Trash Damaged (7 page)

“I wish I knew more about your past, Tuck,” I said quietly, hoping he could feel the genuine concern behind my words as I stepped close enough to feel the heat from his body. He nodded once.

“Not now. . . . One day.” He leaned in so our bodies brushed against each other, his arms looping behind me and
pushing against the small of my back to nudge me closer still. “Cass, don’t take this the wrong way, but I need to be sure you are not going to run from me again.”

His distrust stung, but I couldn’t blame him. I nodded, curling my body into his chest.

“Come on. Let’s go get something to eat by ourselves. The guys can manage one meal without killing each other.” Tucker laughed, coaxing a smile from me.

I nodded. “It would be nice to have some alone time.” I gave him a kiss on the cheek, pausing to take in the loving look in his eyes.

We walked around the mall until we found a small pizza joint. It was early for pizza, but that was one of the things I loved about Tucker. He lived outside of the box, and I loved that life with him was so carefree.

“Tuck, how did you fill your free time when . . . when we were apart?”

“I wrote songs . . . to make me feel closer to you.”

“Yeah, I heard.” I sighed, dropping my food on the paper plate. “I’m sorry, Tucker. For everything.”

“The songs you heard helped me get over the pain. The songs that reminded me of you, of the good times, I don’t play onstage. They are just for me.” I could feel his eyes on me. I slowly raised my gaze to meet his. “I’d like to play them for you.”

“I’d love that.” His hand slid across the table and over mine.

“Tucker, I don’t want to be the reason your band isn’t getting along.” I let my shoulders sag, wondering if there was any way I could make all of this right and still be with him. After the baby, I was actually surprised any of the band members talked to me at all. I remembered how Eric reacted when Tucker first told him last summer that I was pregnant, and I felt a stab of pain and hatred as if he’d just spat those cruel words at me again: “Make it
un
-happen.” I shook my head to erase the painful memory from my mind.

“You’re not causing any sort of rift, Cass, I promise you. But if it makes you feel any better, I’ll talk to the guys.” He squeezed my hand reassuringly. “You’re my number one priority. If I have to choose, it’s you every time, Cass.” He smiled, but my heart sank. I didn’t want him to have to choose, didn’t want to be that person. I wouldn’t let him destroy everything he had worked for just to be with me. We had sacrificed enough already.

“Maybe I should talk to them. One-on-one. If I can find out what is bothering them, maybe I can help put their minds at ease. Reassure them that I have no intention of coming between you guys.”

Tucker smiled at me, tracing over the bones in my hand with the pad of his finger.

“All right.” He picked up his slice and continued to eat. After watching him for a moment, I did the same. It felt good being here with him. It felt normal.

We left the eatery and walked around the mall, hand in hand. We stopped in a few shops and I got some clothing. Mostly jeans and a few tops and a pair of pajamas, since I would be in such close proximity to all of the guys. I had some money saved but not nearly enough to cover it all. Tucker insisted on paying since he was the reason I was even here with him. I didn’t want to be a charity case, but I had no other choice if I wanted to stay clothed. We finished our shopping excursion by buying a few toiletries.

We crossed the parking lot back to the bus, and I paused to take in the sight of it now that I had the benefit of daylight. It was black and massive like a double-decker bus, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the cars. The side had gold and brown swirls that trailed back the length of it. We stopped at the entrance as I looked it over.

“Pretty nice, huh? It’s used, but it still has a lot of life left in it.”

“It’s really great.” I smiled over at him. He was beaming from ear to ear.

“We’re gonna get a new one once we get signed.”

I gave him a quizzical look as I ran my fingers over the gold pattern.

“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
other
songs. It will be easier to concentrate if it’s just the guys.”

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—
our
life—for the foreseeable future. I decided to head out and get some groceries so at least the fridge would be stocked when the guys returned. If I couldn’t win Eric over with words, maybe I could break that wall down with food.

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.”

“Oh, I don’t keep a diary.” I tossed the book back on the stack. Sarah grabbed it.

“You have to get your thoughts out somehow. My head would explode if I didn’t write songs or poetry.” She smiled as she held it out to me. I hesitated, but I realized it might be nice to get my feelings down on paper at times when Tuck wasn’t there to talk to. Music had always been a large part of my life in helping me when I was feeling down. Being able to create that would be a dream come true. I grabbed it and tossed it in the cart along with a pack of pens.

“Couldn’t hurt.” I shrugged as we continued through the
store. “So . . . what does your family think of you being on the road with all of these guys?”

“We don’t talk much.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and frowned as she looked over cans of soup. “You think this is healthy?”

“I have no clue.” I grabbed a few cans and began to look over the ingredients. “I don’t have any family to speak of either.”

“A merry band of misfits.” She laughed and bumped me with her shoulder. “Let me know if any of the guys give you trouble.”

“Sure. Thanks.” I was surprised by how kind and easygoing Sarah was. Watching her onstage she gave off the impression that she was larger than life and more than a little intimidating. It was interesting to see how much of that was a mask and not at all who she really was. It made me realize that what you saw on television or read in magazines had little to do with how these people actually lived.

We collected a few more items and spent a good twenty minutes looking through funky hair accessories. Sarah held up a spool of black ribbon that faded into a pale blue.

“Not very rock star.” I laughed and she rolled her eyes.

“I meant for you, would make your eye color pop.”

“I’m more of a plain-Jane type.” I laughed and grabbed a pack of hair ties from the shelf.

“That isn’t a type, Cass. That’s a tragedy.” She grabbed the
hair ties from my hand and tossed them back at the rack. “You are too pretty not to show it off to the world.”

By the time we had made it back to the buses I felt light, happy, and optimistic. I didn’t realize how much I’d been longing to talk to another woman about everything that was going on. I hoped I saw her again soon. Her kindness had caught me off guard. There was more to her than meets the eye, and she seemed to feel the same way about me, although I didn’t see it.