She's No Good for Me

After the day Owen was having, the last thing she wanted to do was be verbally abused by the ungrateful teenagers spending mommy and daddy’s hard earned cash. In other words, she was sick of having a metaphorical mirror shoved in her face every night.

She had an odd feeling that her parents knew this would happen, that she would serve herself night after night in all of her snotty glory. It was like this whole volunteer act was a cover up for an intervention, they wanted their daughter to see the error of her ways and come back home healed.

All of this added to the clumsy day from hell that she was having, made her desire to go back to Vegas a million times stronger.

She was an hour into the night, a thin blonde no older than fourteen stood before her scanning the pinned up items over and over. She had been doing this for five minutes, five precious minutes that nobody wanted to spare.

It was starting to make Owen’s skin vibrate. A low buzzing that started right before annoyance kicked in and her unfiltered ranting began.

“Look, kid, I don’t want to rush you or anything but it’s a t-shirt. It’s not a life changing purchase, so pick one, pay me and move on,” she snapped.

The girl looked at her in disgust and raised her hand. Extending her finger to point out a t-shirt, she pulled out some money and threw it down on the table.

Grabbing the wrinkled green bills, Owen handed her the small t-shirt in exchange and smiled.

“Have a nice night,” she called as she watched the girl walk away. “Don’t come back to my damn table or I’ll punch you in the face,” she added under her breath.

“You’ll drive them all away like that,” Dylan laughed.

Glancing at him, she shrugged her shoulders. “That means less work for me then.”

“And less time to stare at me too,” he pointed out.

“Now that wouldn’t be a shame, now would it?”

Before Dylan could make a snide comment in return, Owen had spotted her cousin making his way towards them.

“Thank god,” she squealed in delight. “My dear cousin has come to save me.”

Alex’s eyes grew wide. “She’s perky, Dylan what did you do?”

“Dirty, dirty things dude,” he sighed, shaking his head.

“Too much information,” the singer grumbled, his face contorting in disgust.

“Here,” Owen smiled, tugging Alex behind the table by the wrist. “You two can talk all about it while I take a bathroom break.”

Her cousin’s lips parted in protest, but before a word could slip out she had taken off towards the dressing rooms.

She weaved quickly through the narrow hallways, not particularly interested in hearing the lecture Alex would give her if she took too long.

He had this tone when he reprimanded her, because he had apparently been appointed king of Owen’s world. The tone was shrill, it reminded her of the French teacher she had in high school.

“En Francis,” She would practically shriek. Shrieking that would continue when Owen would take a ten minute bathroom break.

The patterns in her life were becoming alarming.

In her deep thought, she had trusted her senses to guide her effortlessly through the maze like hallways. Assuming that they would warn her of any impending danger so she could avoid further embarrassment and bruising.

They didn’t.

When her body collided into another just as she came around a corner, the yelp she produced seemed to echo off the walls.

“What the fu-”

“Are you o-”

“You,” cutting him off Owen seethed, recognizing the face when her blurry vision had cleared.

“Hi,” he smirked.

It was then that Owen realized his hands were carefully gripped at her waist, holding her slack body upright. The closeness of their chests, the way his warm breath tickled slightly against her face, the smugness of his smirk, it all made her sick.

She could tell that he loved this kind of thing, being the hero, being in control. She had seen it twice that day, the way his lips curled ever so slightly when he held her up or when he picked up the accidentally discarded t-shirts. It was almost as if he expected her to get on her knees and thank him, praise him for being her knight in shining armor.

Wedging her hands between them, she used his chest to steady herself before she shoved him away. Her make-up laded eyes dropping into a glare as she brought her palms down against her dress to smooth out the wrinkles.

“Are you incapable of walking or something?” She seethed.

His smirk quickly faded. “I uh…”

“This is the second time that you’ve literally run into me today, you directionally challenged asshole,” the venom dripped from her voice as she cut him off again.

“Now that’s a little harsh,” he shot back in a calm, almost playful manner.

“And my thigh looks like I spent a hard night on a pole, all because you cannot watch where you’re going.”

The ridiculous nature of her statement was a product of her incapability to think before she spoke sometimes. The sheer anger coursing through her veins shut down the already faulty mechanism people had to filter their thoughts.

He bothered her; everything about him bothered her and made her livid. Owen hated guys like him; she had been around so many of them, it made her want to punch this kid square in his eye.

In typical douche bag fashion, he did the thing that she had expected him to do. He laughed.

Tilting her head to the side, Owen raised her eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

“This is the most we’ve talked all tour,” he mused, completely taken with the simple fact.

Looking at him with surprise and distain, she shook her head. Forgetting all about the bathroom, she turned on her heels and stormed away.

Reaching her table in record time, she shoved her way passed Alex who seemed to be holding an informal meet and greet.

“You can leave now,” she whispered at him in a snippy tone.

“I knew your good mood wouldn’t last long,” he mumbled, the large smile still plastered all over his face. He turned to the small group of girls and held up his hands. “Sorry ladies, but I’ve got to go. Feel free to buy a t-shirt or something, and don’t forget to come find me after the show.”

Owen watched as he walked away, most of the girls trailing behind him like puppy dogs. Rolling her eyes, she tended to the few girls who had stayed behind before she placed her hands flat against the table and let out a loud, deliberately dramatic sigh.

“What’s wrong with you?” Dylan questioned with a sympathetic look.

“It’s like, so fucking pathetic how these girls act,” the disgust falling from every word intensified as she went on. “If they knew how he was at home they wouldn’t even give a shit about him. If he still had braces, I bet you any money those girls would find him repulsive. Especially with the amount of food that gets stu-”

“Owen! My god, I really don’t need to picture that.”

“Sorry,” she muttered before she turned her stiff body towards him and let it collapse. “I’m just having a really bad day.”

“No? I couldn’t tell at all,” he replied sarcastically.

In the two weeks that Owen had been standing behind tables and selling t-shirts, Dylan had become the closest thing to a friend that she had. Their “friendship” was the equivalent of a school friend, somebody that you only spoke to at school but never socialized with outside of those walls. The moment that she left the safety of her table and went to the van, Dylan was a distant memory.

He knew this, and he didn’t entirely mind it. Owen was something that you could only handle in small doses, and for those few hours that they were stuck doing their job she had become some what of a comfort. He enjoyed her spunk, the sarcastic nature in which she let every word flow from her mouth. She made the mundane tasks fun, and even sort of funny.

Owen could also appreciate Dylan’s snide remarks, and the way he used sarcasm just as much as she did. But he was more willing to enter friendships with strangers than she was; there was no way that Owen would do something so stupid.

She didn’t want to make any lasting friendships; she had no use for them. All she wanted to do was get through the rest of the summer and go home back to her normal life, her comfortable bed and people she actually cared to see. Nobody, not even Dylan, was going to change that.

Before Owen could say anything more, the house lights dimmed and the loud screams pierced her ears. She enjoyed those screams, oddly enough. Not because one of the bands were going to take the stage, –she hated every single one of them, actually- but because she got a break. People were too busy watching a bunch of grown men flail around on stage and sing awful pop songs to buy anything.

Sitting carefully on the edge of one of the boxes, she stared directly ahead at the stage. Four boys and one girl sauntered out, causing Owen to groan. Her lips curled into a sneer as the lead singer opened his mouth to sing the first note, and the crowd went completely wild.

“You don’t like this band?” Dylan chuckled.

Glancing over at him, she shook her head. “No, and I like them even less as of today.”

His eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“See the one on the left, the kid wearing the idiotic glasses and hideous hat?” She paused to look at Dylan as he nodded his head. “He’s the reason I’m having a bad day.”

“What could he have possibly done to aid in the awfulness of your day?”

“He’s practically knocked me on my ass twice, and he was right there when I dropped a bunch of boxes on the ground. Pretty convenient if you ask me.”

The laughter erupted from Dylan’s throat, lasting for a minute longer than it should have. “Are you trying to tell me that he placed some curse on you and your poor boxes or something?”

“Shut up,” she growled. “Every bad thing that’s happened to me today has involved him in some way, that’s all I’m saying.”

“You’re insane.”

With a roll of her eyes, she crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “Whatever, he’s a douche bag.”

“You don’t even know him Owen,” he dismissed, slightly offended by her label.

“I don’t need to know him Dylan; he’s exactly like every other guy I’ve ever met in Vegas. Shallow, cocky, disrespectful, the list goes on, and on, and on. Not to mention, he can’t play a guitar or sing for shit. He’s just another no talent hack who relies on his looks.”

“You really are a bitch.”

Taking her eyes away from the stage, Owen glared at the boy one table away from her. His face was filled with anger; she could practically see the steam billowing out of his ears. His eyes were pointed forward, either hand balled into a fist. She had a feeling that if she didn’t possess the anatomy of a female, Dylan would have reached over and punched her.

His anger confused her though. When she normally ripped into her cousin’s band, –“the drab” as she liked to call them- Dylan would laugh. He would chuckle at every imitation, every harsh comment and every dirty little secret she spilled. She couldn’t understand why after all this time he would take her words so personally.

“How are you all feeling tonight?” The sandy blonde boy shouted into his microphone, causing the cheers to roll loudly up from the crowd. “We’re The Summer Set from Scottsdale, Arizona.”

In that moment, Owen felt her stomach drop. The boy one table over stood underneath a t-shirt display plastered with The Summer Set.

In two weeks she had neglected to notice…no, she had neglected to care who Dylan worked for. It should have been obvious really, regardless of her lack of perception. She had seen the very boy she had just tore apart walk by their tables and say hello to Dylan, or she had seen the girl on drums sitting there before the show on several occasions.

She stood in complete and utter embarrassment, so ashamed that she had completely tore into one of his friends.

“Dylan I-I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

Shrugging his shoulders, he stood in silence and kept his eyes on the stage. They would stay there for the rest of the night, just like the silence that the pair now traded between one another.

&&

Taking in a deep breath of fresh air, Owen smiled. Everything was packed neatly in the trailer, and the boys were still talking to a few fans that had stayed around to meet them.

It had been a long day, and she was still completely mortified by what had happened with Dylan inside. All she wanted to do was leave, go to the motel that had been booked and go to bed.

Crawling inside of the van, she grabbed her purse and fished through it. Finding the small pack of cigarettes that she had hidden inside, she slipped one out of the pack and began looking for her lighter. When she couldn’t find it in her over stuff bag, she retreated from the van and spotted Johnson smoking a cigarette of his own near the trailer.

“Johnson,” she called to get his attention.

He glanced over at her and raised his eyebrow, watching her thin arm waving wildly to call him over.

“What?” He grumbled as he walked closer to her.

“Can I borrow your lighter?”

“You shouldn’t smoke Owen,” he tutted, holding the small black lighter between his fingers.

“Bite me,” she mumbled as she snatched the lighter out of his hand and lit the thin stick of tobacco. Inhaling deeply, she held the smoke in her lungs for a few brief seconds before blowing it out in a straight line. A smile stretched across her face, her nerves now somewhat calm.

“Thanks,” she handed the lighter back, the calm smile quickly transforming to a sarcastic one.

“I didn’t even know you had those.”

“I am very good at keeping things a secret.”

A smirk appeared on the drummer’s face. But before he could speak, Alex’s loud voice interrupted.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m doing math homework,” Owen said flatly.

“You’re smoking,” his shrieking voice boomed out and around them.

Owen twisted her face into mock surprise. “God, you are so smart Alex. I really don’t understand why you aren’t a brain surgeon or a rocket scientist. You’re really letting all of that intelligence got to waste.”

“You are such a pain in the ass,” Alex muttered.

“So what did Josh say, what are we doing tonight?” Johnson questioned, interrupting the petty squabble.

“Either a karaoke bar or a regular one, whichever one will accept the fake ID’s.”

Rolling her eyes, Owen threw her cigarette to the ground and stepped on the butt. “None of you know how to have any fun.”

A loud string of laughter erupted when she turned her back and climbed back into the van.

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all night,” Johnson managed to get out.

“You don’t even come out with us O,” her cousin said as he climbed in to the seat behind her.

“So? I don’t need to go out with you guys to know that what you do is shit.”

“Well what do you suggest we do? Since, you know, you apparently know everything.”

Turning around in her seat, she looked at her cousin and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, something besides getting completely wasted and hooking up with whores.”

“I don’t hook up with ‘whores’ and I don’t get completely wasted,” Alex protested.

“Right I forgot, you’re still whipped,” Owen smirked. “Logan would be so mad at you.”

Clearing his throat, Alex leaned back in his seat with a none-to-pleased look on his face. “Pissing Dylan off wasn’t enough for you, so you have to try and piss me off too is that it?”

“How the hell do you know about that?” She demanded.

“Word travels fast around here,” he said his tone almost a warning.

“I guess you aren’t that good at keeping things a secret,” Johnson quipped from his place in the passenger seat.

Turning back around in her own seat, Owen crossed her arms over her chest. Just when she thought that things couldn’t get any worse, the world was proving her wrong.

Once everyone else was in the van, they were off towards the motel. The roads were fairly clear; very little traffic littered the lined pavement, which made Owen happy. It meant that she didn’t have to sit very long in the now tense van, wondering if everybody else knew what she had done.

It wasn’t that she cared that they knew necessarily, because she didn’t really mind what people thought about her. It was that for the first time in her whole life, Owen Marie Price felt guilty for something. What she had said to Dylan was wrong, there was no denying that. And she was starting to question if the way she had treated that poor boy all day, as well as the way she was treating everyone else, was right.

Pulling into the parking lot of the motel a short time later, they all filed out of the van and grabbed their bags. It was a race up to the two rooms that had been booked, where Owen threw her bag on one of the beds to claim it as hers before anybody else could.

The ever so quiet Alex Marshall walked into the room moments after Owen, and placed his bag on the other bed before disappearing into the bathroom.

A knock rang through the quiet room a few minutes later startling the girl who stood all alone. Walking towards the door Owen opened it a crack and peered out to see who it was. Noticing the offending presence on the other side, she thought about shutting the door in his face, but instead held the door open.

“Marshall,” Cash called as he brushed passed Owen to enter the room.

“You’re welcome,” she sneered.

He looked at her with a bored expression and called out for his band mate once more.

“Dude, what?” The muffled sound of his voice came from behind the bathroom door.

“Stop beating off and get out here.”

“Do you really have to say stuff like that?” Owen questioned in disgust as she sat down on the uncomfortable bed.

“Do you really have to say stuff like that?” He mocked before turning his attention to the now open bathroom door. “Marsh, we’re going to karaoke man. You down?”

“No, I don’t feel like going out tonight dude. Next time,” he disappeared behind the door without another word.

“What about you?” Cash turned to glance at the girl now digging through her duffle bag.

She glanced up at him and shook her head from side to side, not bothering to give him a verbal response.

“Whatever,” he shrugged, heading out of the room without another word.

As silence fell over the room once more, Owen heard the faint sound of the shower running. Letting out a small sigh, she stood up from the bed and searched the room for the television remote. Finding it placed in the top drawer of one of the nightstands, she began ten minutes of mindless channel surfing.

It didn’t take much longer for the bathroom door to swing open, a shirtless boy making quick strides towards the bed he had claimed for himself.

Owen glanced over at him and bit her bottom lip. “Do you want me to…?”

“No it’s fine,” he dismissed. “Do you need the bathroom?”

“Yeah, I won’t be long or anything if you still need it,” she nodded, standing up from the bed quickly and grabbing the pajamas that she had fished out of her luggage.

He shook his head and gave her a small smile. “Take all the time you want.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, retreating quickly and secluding herself behind the door of the stark white bathroom.

Letting out a long sigh, she turned on the shower and let the hot water run for a few minutes. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she cringed. She looked terrible, the make-up she had put on early in the day did nothing to hide the sunken look her eyes seemed to take on, or the dull tint her skin held. The day she was having showed clearly on her face with no signs of going away.

She hoped that a nice hot shower would improve her mood, as well as a good sleep even if the bed was about as comfortable as the seats in the van.

Climbing behind the steamy curtain, Owen let the hot water beat down on her aching limbs. The tension lifting ever so slightly from her muscles as she shampooed her honey blonde locks.

She had missed this about home too, being able to take a nice shower after a hard day. A decent shower was a few and far between, some days she couldn’t even bring herself to take one because she was so tired and just wanted to lay down. Other days she would have preferred to jump in a polluted lake than step one foot in some of the disgusting showers that she came across.

After fifteen long minutes of enjoying the hot water, Owen turned the shower off and stepped out. Looking at the towel carefully, she decided not to use it. She had no idea where it had been within the last twenty odd minutes let alone its whole span of life at the motel, or how many times it had been washed. She just wasn’t willing to take the risk.

Pulling a grey pair of shorts and thin black wife beater over her damp skin, Owen placed her wet hair in a messy bun and gathered the pile of clothes from the floor. Retreating back in the room and towards her bag, she noticed that Marshall was lying quietly in bed with the television still on.

“I found ‘I Am Legend’ on if you want to watch it,” he softly told her, his eyes never leaving the screen.

Shaking her head, Owen placed her bag on the floor and sat down. “Not really, I kind of hated that movie.”

“Yeah me too,” he shrugged, picking up the remote and flicking through the channels. “‘House’?”

“I’ve seen this one,” she sighed, taking in a few seconds of the show.

“Should I see what’s on Lifetime?”

“God no,” she scoffed at the thought of even watching a second of that horrible channel.

“What about MTV?” He suggested.

She let out an exasperated sigh and shook her head. “No.”

Placing the remote on the bed, he glanced over at her. “Are you going to say yes to anything?”

“Possibly,” Owen shrugged.

“You haven’t yet,” Marshall muttered.

“Uh, that’s because I’ve either seen it or have no desire to see it.”

“I’m not talking about the television.”

“Then what are you talking about?” She furrowed her brows, watching the boy who had nestled underneath the covers fling them away and sit up straight to look directly at her.

“Are you going to sit around sulking every single day, or are you going to just relax and hang out?” The hint of annoyance could be heard in his voice, while his face was hardened in frustration.

“And what are you doing?” She shot back in a defensive tone.

He rolled his eyes; she had either missed the point completely or was being stubborn as usual.

“Look Owen, whatever grudge you have and whatever anger you’re trying to hold on to is pointless,” he began, his features softening up. “Yeah touring is hard work, and sure it isn’t anything like being at home seeing your friends or sleeping in a real bed,” Marshall hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words to use. He didn’t want to offend her; he just wanted her to understand.

“You just aren’t seeing the positive side of this,” he continued. “You get to travel around the country, see a new city every night and see a ton of new faces. There are so many good people who want to get to know you, and who knows? You might make life long friends, but you aren’t giving them a chance. You aren’t really giving any of this a chance. Do you want to look back on this experience and regret everything that you’ve done? Like not going out and having some fun, or shutting out every single opportunity to get to know some amazing people for the stupidest reasons, whatever your reasons are because none of us can figure it out.”

Owen’s face fell into a dumbfounded expression. She had never expected to have this type of conversation with Alex Marshall of all people. They had barely spoken two words the entire time that they had known one another, but it was as if he had been peering in at her thoughts. The questions and second guessing of the actions she had taken that day.

“Maybe you’re right,” she finally said after a few moments of reflective silence.

“I know I’m right,” the warm smile stretched all the way across his baby face. “You don’t have to go out every single night that they do, and you don’t have to become best friends with every single person here, because some people really aren’t worth it,” he chuckled, hinting that he was talking about Cash. “You should just try; you know be nicer to people, give them a chance? Especially Dylan, maybe even John.”

Bowing her head in shame, Owen picked at the fabric of her shorts. “You heard about that huh?”

“Everyone heard about that Owen,” he told her in a soft and sympathetic tone.

“Dylan probably hates me,” she sighed, bringing her hands up and running them over her face.

“I don’t think he hates you,” Marshall shrugged. “He’s probably not stoked on you though.”

“You know,” she chuckled, bringing her eyes up to look at him once more. “You’re like Yoda dude. You don’t really say much, but what you do say is pretty life changing.”

“I do what I can,” he nodded. “I’m not saying you have to change everything about you though, because people sort of like the sarcastic Owen. All I’m saying is…”

“Be a little more open to the experience and be a lot less bitchy?”

“Exactly,” with a nod of his head and a small smile, Marshall slid back under the covers and continued to surf through the channels.

Biting at her bottom lip, Owen lay back on the rock hard bed and stared at the ceiling. She was going to apologize to Dylan and the boy with the stupid glasses tomorrow and she was going to try and start being nicer to everyone else.

A tiny part of her however, felt like this was going to be impossible. She felt that her stubborn attitude would get in the way, or once her guilt subsided she wouldn’t even care.

On the other hand, it seemed that her resistance was only making things worse. She had been so wrapped up in her unhappiness that she had never stopped to think about everyone else around her. People who wanted to get to know her, her poor cousin who had been trying so hard to make her feel welcome.

Maybe it was time to put aside all of those ill feelings, feelings that as she thought more about them seemed completely ridiculous. There was no need to be angry at her parents for wanting to help out their nephew, and there was no reason to treat her cousin like garbage because of her own insecurities, or push the only friend she had kind of made so far away with her big mouth.

The more in depth that she thought about all of this, the heavier her eyelids seemed to fall. This could all wait until the morning. She could have a fresh start and a new perspective when the sun rose in the sky, and when Cash’s unbearable voice came booming from in the hallway.

Owen knew that she couldn’t fix all of this over night, but at the very least she was going to try and fix a few of her mistakes.