No Holding Back (10 page)

Chris never thought about all the Styrofoam containers that Wade brought her, not until now. And she silently admitted that he did have a point. She didn
’t realize how much time she spent on the bus until Wade painted the picture.

Still, she hesitated outright, not really knowing how to spend her freedom and so Wade offered some more ‘encouragement.’

“Will you get going already? Joe and I would go too, but we
’d be spotted right off the bat and this time, security is a little…lacking.” With a head bob, he motioned to Os who was lost in his headphones and none the wiser. “Oh! And take this, too. It’s yours. I’ve been meaning to get you one for a while.”

Wade reached into his other pocket and handed Chris a bran
d new cell phone. She thumbed over the large smooth screen and never imagined she’d be the owner of something so expensive and she tucked it away into her back pocket.

“My number
’s in there - just in case,” Wade admitted and coaxed Chris with a genuine smile.

Chris took one last look at her band mates before she took off her beanie
, pulled off the heavy hoodie, and placed it over the seat.

Wade nodded his approval
while trying not to picture his own hands running through her hair. He looked away momentarily and rubbed the back of his head while he cleared his throat.

“That
’s the spirit. Now get the hell outta here and go have some fun. Take as long as you want.”

Chris
felt a little overwhelmed at first as she walked up to the front. But when Pete pushed a button to open the doors, she couldn’t help but feel like an injured animal being released back into the wild. Chris turned and looked at Wade one more time and smiled without showing her teeth.

“Thanks.”

He nodded and she disappeared.

As soon as the doors shut behind
her, she closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of the fresh outdoors.

It was
a breezy, sunny afternoon complimented the sound of lawnmowers and fresh cut grass. River City’s park loomed in front of her; an inviting forest of birds, trees, and families enjoying the warm afternoon.

It was beautiful and the weather couldn
’t have been nicer either. The sun was shining and peeking through the tall trees and it hit her face in warm, teasing kisses. Chris stood standing almost stupidly by the bus as if afraid to leave it protectiveness, but Wade’s words held a ring of truth about them. And so she forced herself to take a step away, and then another.

Soon, she
found herself walking down an inviting sidewalk until she was deep into the park’s activities. It seemed everyone else thought they would enjoy the weather as well and she saw dozens of kids chase each other through a maze of trees. Picnics and birthday parties went on under different shelters and she saw the smiling faces of people everywhere. Kites flew, dogs chased Frisbees, kids fell down, cried, and got back up again and that’s when it hit her. The smell of food.

She saw smoke rising from several different BBQ pits and the intoxicating
char of hamburgers, hotdogs, and bratwursts wafted into the air, sending Chris into a dizzying fit hunger. She recalled Wade’s suggestion from earlier and brought out her new cell phone, figuring the fancy device could find the damn place.

In moments, the GPS made it clear that i
t was only a few blocks from her but without a second thought, she headed in that direction. Before she knew it, her stomach led her to the most inconspicuous building that ever passed for a smokehouse. But she knew she was at the right place when the smell of pork, mixed with a crisp yet tangy mixture of sugar and vinegar, made her throat freeze up yet water at the same time.

“What can I get for ya, hun?” a kindly older gentleman with a mustache asked.

Chris pondered like an eager 10-year old at an ice-cream shop while she studied the miraculous menu of calorie-laden pork before finally settling on a choice.

“I
’ll have a full rack of baby back ribs, extra sauce, a BBQ pork sandwich, and a side of fries with a lemonade.”

The proprietor
’s eyes widened at the prospect of so much food for such a small person but Chris’ appetite was anything but small. After she handed over a few bills to the guy, he gave Chris a warm smile.

“Certainly. Have a seat and we
’ll bring it right out.”

Chris sat down
as far away as possible from only a few other patrons. They stared outright at her abnormally large and baggy clothing, but she didn’t care about them or anything else for that matter – only her food. But she was forced to sit for what seemed like hours as she waited for her BBQ masterpiece. She messed with the menus, folded a few napkins into bad origami, and stared at the restaurant’s dusty array of hanging Wild West paraphernalia.

But not a moment too soon, Chris saw the same mustached-man bring out her food on a heavy tray and set it down right in front of her.

“Here you are. Enjoy,” he said with a smile, and then walked off.

Chris wasted no time diving into her full rack of ribs. She was beyond caring about what the other customers thought of her ravenous eating habits as she cleaned each bone one by one. She was thankful for the full roll of paper towels that sat on each table and soon, she built up a small pile of the sauce-laden tissues.

When she moved on to her sandwich, she dipped her fries in the extra sauce until not a single one remained. She wiped her mouth and looked yet again at the same older couple that had been staring at her for the past forty-five minutes. She thought they were a little too impeccably dressed for a BBQ joint, and went back to ignoring them. But when the older guy wouldn’t stop staring, Chris became increasingly annoyed and felt like returning the favor.

She stared back at the old man with an equally intense expression
while taking a long, hard swig from her Styrofoam lemonade cup – feeling the pressure build within her lungs. 

Just then, she put all humility aside and opened her mouth to allow a long, drawn-out belch ride past her lips. The foul gesture earned her a dirty look from the o
lder man but Chris just snickered.

“Excuse me,” she said sarcastically.

Disgusted, the older gentleman finally broke eye contact and soon left with, who Chris assumed, was his wife who also gave her a dirty and equally displeasing look. But Chris only smiled and took another napkin, wiping her mouth as daintily as she could and turned and continued to stare back at them until they walked out of the smokehouse.

“That
certainly was impressive, Miss.”

Chris turned and looked up
to see the very same guy who served her. He had a big smile on his face as he held a plate, and on it was a slice of the most luscious cheesecake that she ever laid eyes on. To her surprise, he put it on the table right in front of her.

“I-I didn
’t order this,” she explained.

“I know you didn
’t. But the guys and I saw what you did to the mayor and his wife and-.”

Chris
’ stomach dropped and she cupped her mouth to her hands. “Oh my god! I-I’m so sorry!”

But he just laughed.
“
Don’t
be. The guy’s a jerk. He raised taxes last year and he expects a free meal every time he comes in here. It’s the least we can do.”

Before Chris could
refuse any further, he turned and walked away.

B
eside herself, Chris took a moment to look at the highly decorated platter of white and dark swirl patterns of the cheesecake in front of her. It was centered on a white plate decorated with chocolate drizzles, sprinkles, and whipped cream.

It almost pained to her
to destroy the delicious decoration, but when she looked back up at the pit masters behind the counter, they smiled at her and gave her a thumbs up.

She smiled back and held up her fork in a sort of cheers and so she gave in and watched the utensil cut through the creamy cake and put a piece in
to her mouth.

She smiled when
she found out it tasted like cookies and cream. She couldn’t remember having anything so divine and luscious before in her life, but right away, she decided it would be her favorite.

Completely stuffed, she said goodbye a dozen or so times before she left behind the thankful employees at the smokehouse and started to make her way back to the bus. She saw
it resting in the exact same spot about a block or so away but another sign caught her eye. It stood upon the sidewalk advertising, “Walk-Ins Welcome!” As she drew closer, she saw specials and prices for facials, pedicures, manicures, haircuts, massages, and the like. It was a spa.

Normally, she would have protested the unsavory appeal of so much femininity, but in a way, Chris wanted to do something relaxing and she couldn
’t remember the last time she treated herself, if at all.

“
Oh, what the hell,” she thought, and walked in.

She was greeted by a few odd stares at first but as soon as she flashed several large bills, the employees treated he
r as though she were a long, lost friend.

They
approached her warmly, showed her the daily specials, and offered her a drink but Chris needed little enticement.

“Just gimme all of it,” she said resolutely.

And it was as if she’d told them they all won the gas station lottery. Chris was soon whisked away into a back room and told to undress. When she settled in for a full-body massage she wondered why she almost refused it in the first place.

“Wow, sweeti
e!” said the woman named Sylvia. “You have a lot of tension in your arms!”

She laughed through her nose and dozed off several times in the dark room all while listening to the s
ound of flutes being played within the background of a gentle stream.

After an hour of her muscles being pounded into submission, Chris hobbled over to the ornately
cushioned chair where a soothing foot bath awaited her. As she thumbed through several magazines, a little Asian woman in front of her went to work on her feet and shins. She vigorously scrubbed away at her skin and layered on the soaps and lotions, but Chris refused nail polish of any kind knowing she’d have it remove it all before their next show.

She received a facial while her hands were being doted upon
and had a wonderful time chiming in to some feminine conversation about the latest hairstyles and fancy clothing trends. When she asked them, they gave her the location of several outlet stores that Chris might find some more ‘fitting’ clothing.

Almost two hours later, Chris emerged from her makeover feeling energized yet relaxed with the exception of the eyebrow-plucking surgery she was
still recovering from.

The ladies waved goodbye and hugged Chris to death as she left them to go
and visit the clothing store they all raved about. She found the place easily enough, a few blocks down just like they said. But when she stepped through the glass doors of a retail store called
Southern Comfort
, out of place didn’t even come close to how she felt.

Chris stood frozen in her spot by the entrance
while all the customers and employees couldn’t help but stare at her odd clothing ensemble. Chris couldn’t blame them and even tried to see through their eyes at what she possibly looked like to them; an overly thin yet pathetic looking girl whose clothes barely clung to the skin she was in. Chris was nearly ready to turn and leave when an older employee with white, curly hair approached her fearlessly.

“Hey there
, sug. Can I help you find something?” came a southern accent that Chris wasn’t quite expecting.

Upon closer inspection, Chris memorized the name tag
of the older woman whom she thought could easily be her grandmother before responding, “Sure…Tracy? I could really use some clothes that fit better.”

Undete
rred by her daunting task, the kindly, older woman put on a regal appearance and placed her arm around Chris and gave her a firm squeeze while she led her back to the women’s section. Happily, the store’s employee held up dozens of cute tops but Chris was a little reluctant to try on the form fitting jeans while she went on and on about certain brand-name clothing. She even reached for seemingly random clothing and brought them together in the cutest outfits Chris had ever seen.

“
Wow, you know a lot about fashion! If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were a designer in a past life!” Chris exclaimed.

Suddenly, Tracy struck a debutante pose and smiled graciously.
“Honey, you are lookin’ at Miss Alabama of 1959!”

Chris
’ jaw dropped and she covered her mouth.

“
No way!”

“
I’ll also have you know that I have carry a master’s degree in fashion, darlin’!”

Chris chuckled.
“A woman who is both smart
and
beautiful? Your husband is one lucky guy.”