White Trash Damaged

12

THE DAYS BLED together into one endless string of concerts and driving occasionally punctuated by an argument with Donna. She was determined to get me off the bus, and I was hell-bent on standing my ground. It was easy to forget there was more going on in the world than what was happening with the band.

“This band is awesome,” the guy on the other side of the guardrail yelled to me as the next concert got under way. He didn’t look like your typical rock-concert goer. He was wearing jeans and a button-up plaid shirt that hung open over a white cotton tee. A giant camera hung from his neck.

“Yeah, they’re great.” I kept my eyes fixed on the stage as Tucker belted out the chorus to “Empty Sheets.” “Are you a photographer?” I asked, motioning to the camera.

“Oh, this?” He picked up the camera and turned it over in his hand. “Just a hobby. This song is amazing!”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Tucker can make anything sound good,” I replied.

“You know him? Like friends with him?” he asked, and the question made me feel uncomfortable. “I guess that’s why you get to stand on that side of the railing.”

“He’s my boyfriend.” I knew I was blushing, but I couldn’t help it. I relished the rare moments when I got to break the rules a bit and talk about my relationship with someone.

“That’s got to be crazy. I bet it’s hard going so long without seeing each other.”

“I travel with him.” I grinned and listened to the band begin their next song.

“That’s pretty cool.”

The music picked up, putting an end to the chitchat. I loved watching Tucker perform. It never got old watching him do what he loved. I hoped one day I would be as satisfied in whatever I chose to do with my life.

After his set ended I slipped backstage and waited for him just out of sight of the concertgoers. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him as he lifted my feet from the ground.

“You’re sweaty.” I made a face, and he sat me back on my feet and grinned.

“Want to get sweaty with me?” He cocked his eyebrow.

“Mmmm . . .” I pretended to think about it, and Tucker picked me up as I wrapped my legs around his waist, giggling. He pressed my back against the cinder-block wall and kissed me. There was nothing playful about his kiss. His tongue slid over my lower lip and I let my mouth fall open, inviting him inside.

“They’re asking for you,” Chris called out from the door.

“Fuck.” Tucker rested his forehead against mine and closed his eyes. “I have to go sign some autographs, and we have that VIP thing tonight.”

I nodded as I dropped my legs and he lowered me to the ground. I was beginning to wonder if the timing would ever be right for me and Tucker again. I was finally feeling like I could push away the past and get lost in the kisses of my boyfriend . . . and now he had to go. Again.

“It’s fine. I’ll go hang out on the bus.” I gave him a quick kiss on the nose and waited for him to walk back out toward the stage. With a sigh I retreated back to the bus to spend the next few hours by myself. I hated being alone, but it gave me time to write and it had become a great way for me to work through everything I was still carrying around with me.

I made my way out of the back exit of the building and slipped into the bus that was parked just behind the doors. Tonight we had security posted outside, and it made me nervous to think how things were changing so rapidly.

I grabbed my notebook and began to jot down lines as they floated through my head. Nothing was really coming together, but Tucker had told me that when he writes it never seems to make sense at first, so I didn’t let it discourage me. After a good two hours of getting lost in my memories, I knew it was going to be a long night for the guys, and it was no use waiting up. I crawled into bed alone and stared at the pictures of Tucker taped overhead before drifting off to sleep.