Smiling at Everything

Jazz leaned against her sink the next morning in her undergarments, smearing light pink eye shadow over her eyelids. Today, she had to eat with both of her parents. She couldn't go all out with her eye shadow like she normally did. The colors had to be light, feminine, and respectful. She had grown up being taught to do her makeup like that and she hated it. When the band started performing, she started doing bright makeup just for shows. It eventually became an everyday thing, as long as she took it off before she saw her parents. Stage clothing was also off-limits around her parents. Those clothes her mother bought her saw sunlight once a week.

Jazz pulled away from the mirror, taking a sip from her energy drink and examining her handiwork. She had been drink energy drinks and playing her piano all night, like she always did, this time playing her piano to avoid pulling the razor blade from the trash to cut up her body. Sleep didn't happen; it would tonight. She was going to at least try to sleep before the tour so she could run without sleep till they got to a hotel. Waking up due to nightmares in a hotel was easier than in a cramped bunk. Not to mention a lot less terrifying.

Deciding her makeup was good enough to please both of her parents, Jazz left the hall bathroom, walked down the hall to her suite and straight into her closet. She set her energy drink on one of the shoe shelves. Both of her hands had to be free to go through the packed space.

Jazz shifted through the variety of clothes, cringing at the styles her mother bought. There would never be a point in time that Jazz Presley would wear a pant suit or an evening gown. Her fans would have a fit.

For a moment, Jazz thought about wearing one of the tracksuits that she received recently but it wouldn't translate well into lunchtime attire. She settled on a pale yellow sundress that her mother gave her almost a month prior. She pulled the dress over her head, careful not to upset the makeup she just applied.

The dress had to still be in season.

Jazz grabbed a pair of woven wedges, slipping them on her feet and fastening the bands around her ankles. All she had left to do was find a necklace, cover her arms in bracelets to hide her scar, and do her hair.

Jazz left the walk-in closet, energy drink in hand, and walked to her dresser drawers, opening a drawer and pulling a random silver necklace out. It didn't matter much to her how it looked; as long as it wasn't too extravagant, it would be just fine. She placed the chain around her neck and attached the clasp. From the same drawer, she pulled out a set of yellow and silver bracelets, slipping them on her arms, covering her old scars.

Part of her regretted ever making the cuts that caused those scars. They would never go away. The cuts had been much too deep to allow the scars to fully go away. She spent her days hiding them when she knew she shouldn't have been ashamed of what she had done to her body. She didn't doubt that she could go without the bracelets or the long-sleeved tops and no one in the band would notice the series of marks on her arm.

It was a bit depressing to think about how little her friends noticed.

Jazz grabbed her hair brush from the vanity next to her dresser drawers, brought it through her layered, brown hair, and set it back on the vanity. She stared at her reflection in her vanity mirror, making sure everything was in the right place. Her parents would pick at anything that looked out of place. They always did.

Jazz couldn't help noticing how normal she looked. It wasn't a sight she was used to. If anyone in the band saw her, she would never hear the end of it. They had never seen her without the bright makeup or in a dress. Her hair wasn't in its signature pigtails that only encompassed the bottom layer of her hair, the shorter layer free from any restraints. Made up, she was just another rich kid.

Jazz sighed, grabbing her white purse and her cell phone. She definitely wasn't comfortable dressed like this. Sure, it was what she grew up in; it was the lifestyle she was bred into. But she couldn't stand it.

Jazz's phone vibrated in her hand. She looked at the caller id. "Neon" was written across the screen of her phone. Jazz pressed the green button and placed the phone to her ear. She didn't need to take a full minute to prep herself for phone calls anymore.

"Hello?" Jazz said, voice cheery.

"Hey, the organizations that we're giving merch booth profits to want us to meet them for dinner tonight. The two opening acts and the guys will be there. Can you make it?" Neon asked.

Jazz knew Neon was referring to All Time Low when she said "the guys." The two bands had grown close over the past year. It was bound to happen with the cross-band dating.

"What time?" Jazz asked.

"Around five. I can call you back when they give us a specific time."

"I have to go eat with my parents, so calling would be a bad idea. Just text me the information."

It was improper etiquette to answer the phone at the table. Her parents never let her forget her manners. Though she had a habit of forgetting them when she wasn't around her parents.

"Both of them together? I thought your parents couldn't stand to be in the same room together," Neon said.

Of all the band members, Neon was the only one who knew anything about Jazz's personal life. She knew Jazz's parents were wealthy; she knew about the divorce; she knew about the money they were shelling out on Jazz to get back at each other.

"No. I'm seeing mother for brunch and father for lunch," Jazz said.

"You're seeing them both in the same day back-to-back? Good luck with that."

"Don't worry, I'll think about the performing and I'll survive," Jazz paused, "Oh shit, I have to tell them we're going on tour. Damn it."

"Just don't tell them where we're going. We don't want them showing up at the hotel like they did last time."

"Thank god Arpeggio was still quiet then. She didn't go around talking about the massive fight they got in."

"If Grim would have found out, they would have been banned from ever showing up at an event."

"Not like they show up often," Jazz chirped.

She was rather happy her parents didn't go to performances. They wouldn't understand any of what she did for a living.

"It’s a good thing too. We'd be screwed if they did," Neon commented.

"True that."

"Well, I'll send you the time when I get it. If they cancel the dinner, I'll tell you."

"Sounds good to me."

"Okay. Bye, dork."

"Bye, freak."

Jazz pressed the red button her phone, ending the call, and shoved the phone in her oversized purse. She left from the suite, down the curved staircase, and across the living room. Jazz grabbed the set of car keys from the hook near the door, dropping them in her purse and checking for her license.

Today would be one of the few times she drove her car. Partially because she had to keep her mother thinking she drove the expensive cars she bought. And partially to make sure her friends didn't see her dressed the way she was.

Though, of the secrets she had been keeping, her rich background wasn't the worst.