White Trash Damaged Part 14

"I'm sure he was told to say that."

"It doesn't matter. He shouldn't have." I pushed to my feet and began pacing the floor as I chewed angrily on my lower lip. "I think I'll take you up on that drink now."

I didn't waste any time getting off that bus. I felt like I was drowning inside of that closed-off s.p.a.ce that not long ago I actually considered home.

"It's Donna. She is slowly trying to put herself in the middle of my relationship," I said as we went inside the bar.

"She can't come between the two of you unless you let her."

"Trust me. I am not." I slid onto the bar stool and Sarah took a seat next to me, holding up a hand to signal the bartender.

"Maybe not you . . ." Her voice trailed off.

"She's been pulling us apart from day one, but this is different. Those songs are my heart and soul. It is the only thing I have of my own."

"Two shots of Jack," she told the bartender who flipped his cleaning rag over his shoulder and went to work at pouring our drinks. "I want to hire you." She turned to face me.

"Hire me for what?" I drank back my whiskey, wincing as it burned my throat.

"You're an amazing writer, and we could use some fresh material."

"I don't think that's a good idea." I felt like selling my songs to someone else would be like cheating on Tucker. As much as he had hurt me, I didn't want to go behind his back.

"You don't want to follow your dreams and see where they take you?"

"I don't know what I want anymore. I never really had a dream outside of escaping my old life. I didn't know I was good at anything."

"You have talent, that's for sure. But is it what you want out of life?"

"I enjoy writing and it helps me work through all of my issues. It would be incredible to be able to do that for a living."

"Then you need to make it happen. You can't rely on anyone but yourself to do that. Not even Tucker, no matter how close you are."

After a few more drinks Sarah had to get ready for the concert tonight. I didn't feel like watching the band perform. I was always a few feet from Tucker, but it might as well have been thousands of miles. When he was onstage he was a product, an object that belonged to the ma.s.ses. It didn't used to feel that way, but ever since Donna had taken over as manager, things had changed. I bit my tongue because I knew that was what was best for the band, but what I wanted was what was best for Tucker. I wasn't sure what that was anymore.

"I'm gonna take a walk, clear my head."

"Don't get lost. Concert starts at eight," Sarah replied.

I nodded, not wanting to tell her I didn't think I could handle watching Tucker perform tonight. I needed a break. I watched Sarah leave and waited a few minutes before stepping outside and figuring out where I was going to go from here.

I decided to go see a movie instead. It was such a normal mundane thing, but it was a luxury for me. I hadn't been able to afford things like that most of my life, and now I just didn't have the time, even though I felt like ninety percent of my day was spent sitting and waiting.

I headed for the large theater across the highway and purchased a ticket for Halftime, a new comedy that I had heard nothing about since we rarely watched television. It didn't matter. I just needed to do something fun on my own for once. I couldn't let my happiness be determined by others any longer.

The film dragged on, and I spent more time watching a group of college friends laugh and make fun of each other than I did watching the movie.

After the last of the credits rolled up the screen and the lights to the theater came back on, I decided I had been gone long enough.

My mood had lightened a little and it felt good to collect my thoughts instead of going with my normal instinct to flee. Even with all that was going on, it gave me hope that I was finally growing as a person. In my mind I began laying out a calm, levelheaded way to approach Tucker.

All feelings of contentment left as I approached the bus. I could see Tucker pacing back and forth in front of the door. When he spotted me he began to walk toward me and it was obvious he was not happy.

"I have been searching everywhere for you. I was worried sick. I thought . . ." Tucker cut off his own thoughts as the muscles in his jaw ticked under his skin.

"It's a little too late to be worried about me," I spat back angrily, my hands on my hips. So much for keeping a level head and talking this out like adults.

"I missed a concert! Do you have any idea how p.i.s.sed everyone is at me right now?"

I took a step forward, staring him dead in the eye.

"Do you have any idea how p.i.s.sed I am at you right now?" I spat.

"You're mad at me?" He had the nerve to look offended, and I wanted to scream. He really had no clue how badly he had hurt me. "This is my career, Ca.s.s. You told me not to give up on it, and now you're doing your best to destroy it."

I took a step back. It felt like I had been physically punched in the gut. His words ripped through me. I was Tucker's biggest supporter.

"What about me, Tucker? What about my dreams?" I had finally found something I was good at and I loved to do, and it got swept under the giant rug that was Tucker's fame. I couldn't handle it anymore. I needed to have my own ident.i.ty.

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Writing that poem . . . that song . . . was the one thing I had done for me since I joined you on tour. It was mine. I had created something I was incredibly proud of, and you took credit for it like it meant nothing at all." I knew I was overreacting, but I felt like I was slipping away. I couldn't stand in the shadows of his career anymore. I was getting lost in the dark.

"Ca.s.s, our fans don't want to know that I have a girlfriend. They don't want to know that I am singing songs that I didn't write myself."

"Well, someone has been spending too much time with Donna." I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Don't do that. You know that this band is important to me."

"I used to be important to you, too. What happened to that?" I asked as I took off around him, walking as fast as I could to the bus door. I yanked it open, unable to look at him as the tears threatened to spill over. I felt like a jerk. I didn't want him to agonize over choosing between me and his band. I wanted the choice to be obvious. I wanted him to stand up for me. I didn't want to be his dirty little secret.

I SLEPT LIKE h.e.l.l all night tossing and turning. Tucker never came to bed, and I knew everyone was mad at him and blamed me for it. This tour-our rhythm, our lack of privacy, this whole situation-it was killing us, and we needed a drastic change or it would destroy our relationship for good.

It didn't take long to decide it was time to visit my father. It would give Tucker and me the breathing room we needed to think about what we wanted out of life and what we needed from each other.

I grabbed my cell phone and sent him a text. I want to visit my father.

I waited for nearly ten minutes for his response, and it was killing me not knowing where he was. I found a flight that leaves tomorrow.

I didn't know what I wanted him to say, but that wasn't it. He was happy to send me away and he wasn't going to put up a fight. As tears swam in my eyes, I grabbed my small duffel bag and began to shove some clothes inside.

"Trying to sleep," Eric called from his bunk.

"Sorry," I said sadly, my voice cracking.

He pushed back the curtain to his bunk and groaned as he sat up.

"Where the h.e.l.l are you going?" he asked, pointing to my bag.

"To see my father."

"You coming back?"

I stopped shoving clothes in my bag and took a deep breath.

"I don't think I'm wanted around here anymore."

Eric jumped down from the bunk and put his hand on my shoulder, turning me around to face him.

"You don't honestly believe that, do you?"

I couldn't respond. The words stuck behind the lump that had formed in my throat. Eric looked uncomfortable as he scratched the back of his head.

"Tucker would quit this band in a heartbeat if you asked him to."

"I wouldn't do that," I said defensively.

"I know you wouldn't. You care too much about him to ask him something like that. This isn't easy for you; we all know that. It only proves how much you both love each other. You think he would throw it all away over some bulls.h.i.t fight?"

I shook my head. For once, Eric was the voice of reason.

"He fell asleep on Filth's bus. They have a free bunk. He just needed some time to think. I told him it was stupid, but he was sure you didn't want him here."

"It's his bus."

"But you're his girl, and that is more important to him than all of this."

"Thank you . . . for saying that." I was grateful for his kindness, but I wished I believed his words.

"It's what friends do. Now stop your blubbering."

I laughed and sank back on the bed feeling the pressure leave my chest.

THE BAND was out the door early to rehea.r.s.e and discuss the music video they would be shooting next week.

Tucker came back around six in the evening and barely spoke a word to me, but I could see he wasn't mad. He was concerned about me leaving. Tucker had reservations from the beginning about me reconnecting with my father. He didn't trust a man who would leave behind everyone he was supposed to love.

"What time is my flight?" I asked as I picked up my sub sandwich and took a bite.

"Nine in the morning." He took a sip of his soda but didn't look up at me.

"Three days?"

He nodded as he shoved a handful of chips in his mouth.

"Can you please talk to me? We can't work through this if we don't talk. I hate you being mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you, Ca.s.s." His eyes met mine. "I'm scared you are going to get hurt or taken advantage of by one of the few people who you love. Not that he deserves it." The muscles in his jaw ticked.

"People change. Look at me. I'm a completely different person now."

"No, you're not, Ca.s.s. You are the same sweet and loving girl I fell in love with. Your circ.u.mstances changed, not who you are."

"You don't think he is any different?"

"I hope he is, for your sake."

We spent the rest of the evening in Tucker's bunk, wrapped in each other's arms as we stared up at the pictures taped overhead. There was still so much that needed to be said, but we were both exhausted, physically and emotionally.

"What's that one from?" I asked, pointing to a picture of him surrounded by a bunch of children ranging in age from toddlers to late teens.

"That's when we played a free gig for the West Lake Children's Home. All of those kids were abused, abandoned, or neglected. Every single one of them had a smile on their faces that day. We raised a few thousand dollars for them."

"That's amazing. I would have loved to have been there."

He pulled me tighter into his arms and kissed the side of my head.

"You will be at the next one."

I twisted to look up at him, his head above mine.

"I promised we'd do it every year. Remind us who we are and how fortunate we are to be doing this."

"You really are lucky."

His gaze fell to my lips and back to my eyes as he ran his thumb over my chin.

"I'm the luckiest man on Earth." He tilted my chin up higher to meet his lips. "I'm going to miss you."

I laid my head on his shoulder, my arm over his chest. We drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.

I FELT LIKE I was on another planet leaving Tucker and the band behind to go meet my father. I wished I had Tucker by my side for this, but it was something I needed to do for myself. Tucker couldn't hold my hand for the rest of my life and he had a very hectic schedule to maintain.

New Orleans was unlike anything I had ever seen. We had some crazy characters on the River Walk in Savannah, but they didn't hold a candle to the street performers that lined the city here. Everything was painted in bright colors and it looked like the city was in the midst of a party, even though it wasn't anywhere near a holiday. My eyes danced over the buildings. I promised Eric I would take a picture of the House of the Rising Sun if I saw it, but the cabdriver had no idea what I was talking about.

The driver took me right through the French Quarter at my request. I was eager to see my dad but was so terrified that it would go badly that I was trying to prolong the inevitable as much as possible.

The car crawled at a snail's pace as we got stuck behind a horse carriage, and tourists stood in the streets to take pictures of the beautiful old balconies covered in bead necklaces.

I glanced down at my cell phone, wanting to call Tucker, but, even after our tender night together, all of the tension between us in the last few weeks made me worry he might be relieved to have a break from me. I wouldn't blame him. I was sad to admit that getting out of that cramped bus actually felt good. I missed Tucker desperately, though, and that was even more reason to give us some time apart. I didn't want to rely on him for my happiness or to feel fulfilled. I needed to get that on my own.

As we pulled back out onto the main road I began to think about the other man I was missing in my life, my father. The trip from the quarter to his home was only about five minutes, but it flew by so quickly I wanted to yell at the driver to slow down. My stomach was in knots.

We pulled up to the curb in front of a modest home that was painted a pale yellow with purple trim around the windows. It sat several feet off the ground on large cinder blocks. I got out of the back of the car and paid the cabdriver, clutching my bag to my side. I felt a million miles from home, even though I had no home to speak of.

The screen door opened and an older man stepped out into the sun. I recognized him instantly-he looked exactly as he had when I was young, but his hair was much thinner and his midsection had expanded.

"Welcome home, Ca.s.s." He had a huge smile on his face, and my heart warmed at his words. He held his arms open, and I reluctantly stepped up the front steps and gave him a quick hug. The door opened behind us and out stepped a woman with an enormous round belly. Her hand rested on top of it, and the other hand rested on her lower back.