Status: Vacation leave, post in the next three days.
In the Band
2
Dahlia takes forever in the bathroom. She is a slow mover as it is, but then she has to primp her hair and put on her skank makeup. I’m not very aggressive, so I always am last for the bathroom, and unfortunately, the RV only has one. Why did Dahlia even need a shower anyway? It wasn’t like she performed.
“Daaaaahlia!” I whined. “Hurry up!”
She came out of the bathroom at last, wearing an impossibly low-cut top, something that was just long enough to pass for a skirt, too much makeup, and a look of disgust. I loathed her.
I went in, shooting her a mean look. The bathroom was really cramped, since eight people shared it, five of which were women. I didn’t really mind sharing with guys, as long as the place was clean. Dahlia, however, loved the fact that there was men’s cologne and Axe and shaving cream all over the other half of the counter. In fact, she purposely left her feminine crap out where the guys could see it. She was a whore, but we put up with her because she was the best merch girl around. Maybe the two were inter-related.
I showered quickly, put on my post-concert attire (sweats and an old Weezer tee) and pulled my hair into a ponytail. I wasn’t like my mom, who always had to look her best. I liked to be comfy. It helped that I didn’t look much like her either.
“She lives!” cried Patrick as I emerged from the bathroom.
I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.”
“Alright, ready to go?” asked Nikki. “Damn, I could eat a bear!” cried Pat.
We all trouped out of the bus and into Dahlia’s Porsche. Luckily, Dahlia only slept on the RV, so we didn’t have to put up with her during the day. Anne Marie was the only one of us that couldn’t drive, as she was the youngest. She had her permit, but most of us affectionately referred to her as “Baby.”
When we arrived at the restaurant, I put my phone on silent since I wouldn’t be able to hear it anyway. I consequently failed to notice the one new text message I received as we sat down to eat.
“Daaaaahlia!” I whined. “Hurry up!”
She came out of the bathroom at last, wearing an impossibly low-cut top, something that was just long enough to pass for a skirt, too much makeup, and a look of disgust. I loathed her.
I went in, shooting her a mean look. The bathroom was really cramped, since eight people shared it, five of which were women. I didn’t really mind sharing with guys, as long as the place was clean. Dahlia, however, loved the fact that there was men’s cologne and Axe and shaving cream all over the other half of the counter. In fact, she purposely left her feminine crap out where the guys could see it. She was a whore, but we put up with her because she was the best merch girl around. Maybe the two were inter-related.
I showered quickly, put on my post-concert attire (sweats and an old Weezer tee) and pulled my hair into a ponytail. I wasn’t like my mom, who always had to look her best. I liked to be comfy. It helped that I didn’t look much like her either.
“She lives!” cried Patrick as I emerged from the bathroom.
I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.”
“Alright, ready to go?” asked Nikki. “Damn, I could eat a bear!” cried Pat.
We all trouped out of the bus and into Dahlia’s Porsche. Luckily, Dahlia only slept on the RV, so we didn’t have to put up with her during the day. Anne Marie was the only one of us that couldn’t drive, as she was the youngest. She had her permit, but most of us affectionately referred to her as “Baby.”
When we arrived at the restaurant, I put my phone on silent since I wouldn’t be able to hear it anyway. I consequently failed to notice the one new text message I received as we sat down to eat.
♠ ♠ ♠
~~ Steph