Chapter Fifteen
I mean sure, Brian warned me but he didn't warn me.
The moment the door opened, a colossal burst of sound escaped from inside. A stereo was blasting some club beat music and there were at least three male voices and one female voice shouting at each other.
"Sounds like someone's in trouble already," Brian laughed as he took the steps leading up into the bus two at a time. He stopped at the top and shouted, "IT AIN'T NO PARTY LIKE A BACKSTREET PARTY..."
"Cos a Backstreet party don't stop!" came a responsive shout. Several other voices continued what sounded like an argument. "Brian! You made it! Guys, Brian's here." Brian waved for me to follow him and disappeared further into the bus. I felt almost like I was signing a death waiver, took a deep breath of fresh air, and pulled the bus door closed behind me as I ascended the steps.
The bus was already a mess. Stuff was everywhere. Two long couches lined the first part of the bus, with open duffle bags strewn about, stuff pouring out of them. Sneakers lay on the floor haphazardly, their laces coiled around like a murder victim's at the scene of a crime. The music was thump-thumping so loud the floor of the bus shook from it. It smelled slightly like smoke.
"You better be leaning out the window with that shit, AJ," came a loud female voice from the back of the bus.
A body backed out of a bunk in the wall just beyond the couches. The guy was covered with tattoos. I swear to God there wasn't a single space of bare skin left. He had a cigarette in his hand, "Well I was, but now I'm inside telling you that I was leaning outside," he said. His voice was rough, probably from the smoking. He glanced back at me, "Yo," he said without so much as doing a once-over, then he ducked back into the bunk, his legs wriggling out into the aisle as he did.
Commotion was so not the word to cover what was happening here.
"You're so fulla crap dude... you are so not out the window, you're in your fuckin' bunk." A tall blonde guy pranced back toward me in the aisle, whipped open the curtain on Tattoo's bunk. Tattoo was, indeed, just laying in the bunk with a cigarette. "FIRE HAZARD!" yelled the blonde guy, snapping the cigarette out of Tattoo's fingers.
"What the fuck!" Tattoos leaped out of the bunk, eyes ablaze.
Blondie didn't respond, he was too busy running for one of the open windows that were over the couches, nearly knocking me over to get there. He tossed the cigarette out the window. He tripped over the murdered sneakers and fell backwards onto the opposing couch, his arms and legs flailing. "Aahh crap!" he yelped as his ass hit the floor with a loud thump. He stared up at me. "Oh hey," he said before scrambling to his feet. "You delivering the pizza?"
"Pizza?"
"He doesn't look like a pizza dude," commented Tattoos.
"Pizza dudes don't have a look, dumbass," Blondie responded.
"NICKOLAS, get your bubble ass back here!" the woman's voice carried over the other sounds.
"You're wanted, your highn-ass," Tattoos said. He reached in his pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes, pulled one from the box, and crawled back into his bunk.
"COMING!" Blondie yelled. He studied me a second. "You ain't got no flippin' pies, yo," he said.
"I'm uh here with Br--"
"There you are!" Brian came back from wherever he'd gone. "Nick, stop traumatizing Ben."
"Ben?" Nick looked at me again. He looked at Brian, "Yo how the frick do you know the pizza dude's name?"
"I'm not a pi--"
"NICKOLAS!" a short, brown haired girl interrupted me as she came out of the far end of the bus. "God you're a pain in my ass. Will you please come help me and Howie get this shit into the overheads? You know we can't reach it."
"Duty calls," Nick said, and he bounded away.
"Jenn," Brian called to the girl, "Can I talk to you a second?"
"Yeah, hold on B-Rok, let me make sure Nick's working and not trying to shove Howie in the overhead and I'll be right back." She turned and a moment later we could hear her yelling Nickolas again. Evidently Howie was being shoved in the overhead bins.
Brian laughed, "Told'ja it was crazy."
"Yeah," I said, mesmerized by the hyperactivity on board the bus. It had looked so... calm and peaceful from outside.
Brian smiled, "If it's any consolation, the roadie's bus is always calmer."
"It is a huge consolation," I answered.
It took about ten minutes before Jenn returned. "Hey, sorry," she tucked a stray piece of hair over her ear, "You know Nick, he's a pain in my ass... all the damn time," she added. She looked at me. "Are you the pizza guy?"
"No," I answered. What the hell was with everyone thinking I was the pizza guy?
"This is Ben," Brian said.
Jenn nodded, "Hey nice to meet you. I'm the fellas tour manager."
"Nice to meet you, too."
"I was hoping," Brian said slowly, "That maybe we had some space for an extra stagehand, that maybe Ben could help out? Join us on tour?" he grinned.
Jenn hesitated.
Brian turned to me, "If nothing else you can run the Wylee trailer," he suggested.
I imagined my life aboard the Purple People Eater. I didn't even know anything about the stuff Leighanne designed or sold. "I uh might not be suited for that," I replied quietly.
Jenn shrugged, "I'll talk to Rick."
"PUT ME DOWN OR I'LL FUCKIN' KEEL YOU!" a thick Latino accent carried through the bus, followed by a crash and a loud, obnoxious laugh.
"Oh God," Jenn groaned, "And we haven't even left the parking lot yet." She turned and dashed away.
I looked at Brian. "You did so not warn me enough," I informed him.
His eyes twinkled, "It gets worse, trust me."
After Self by Pengi
