ODAAT: Volume 1, Chapter 23

 

Chapter 23

Tour Bus

The tour bus itself is more spacious than either of us were prepared for. The drivers seat is luxurious, with big arms that fold up. It's designed for lengthy driving and adjustable for quick naps. There's a sliding paper door that separates the driver from the rest of the bus. On the other side of that door is a lounge. There's a couch on both sides of the bus, opposite to one another. There's no table in between, because that would limit the walk space. Instead, there's a table on both ends of the couches. The tables are built into the bus, but the driver, Clifford, explains that there is a fold out table underneath one of the couches that spans the length of the walk space. It just stays folded up when it's not in use.

“The last band to rent the bus decided to make a few improvements. They wanted it to be more livable.” Clifford adds. Just past the couches is where the bunks would start. Instead, there are four closed off areas, two on each side. They are the width of a bunk, but a bit longer and there's nothing above them. Past the four beds is a closet.

“Perfect for storing suitcases, while the merchandise and equipment can just go under the bus.” He continues. Across from the closet is the bathroom. It's small, but able to flush. It will require maintenance every couple of days, but Clifford tells us not to worry about that.

“It's my job to make sure everything functions.” He assures. Crystal throws her suitcase down on the first bed to the left. She wants to be directly behind the door for whatever reason. I put my suitcase on the bed opposite of hers, putting myself behind Clifford. The other two beds are going to be largely unused, but there weren't any other buses available. Most bands would choose flying. He seems happy with his choice as he boards the bus behind us. The color scheme is dark gray, with the couches being a swirl pattern with lighter shades. The curtains are also a gray color that match the ones around the bus. He drops down on one of the couches, since his suitcase is already in the closet. His team will meet us at the venues, since most of them are going to be flying ahead. No one else wants to be confined to a tour bus, the way these two seem to.

“Welcome to your home for the next six weeks.” Clifford welcomes, heading back to the drivers seat. I sit down in the lounge, across from Frankie. We watch as Crystal lays down in her chosen bunk. She seems to rest for only a minute before getting up and trying the bunk further down. Then she moves on to the next bunk, making the same face. Then finally, she's testing out the one I picked.

“These are all terrible.” She complains, sitting up and crossing her arms over her chest. She's got a pout on her glossed lips.

“What exactly did you expect?” I ask her. She puts on a pout and looks around, finally rising from the beds. She walks over to the couch and drops down beside him.

“Memory foam.” She states, sounding sure of herself. I laugh, looking over at them. He nods.

“I'll get you some tomorrow.” He assures her, putting his arm around her shoulders. She leans into him, letting her eyes flutter closed. He looks over at me as Clifford starts the bus.

“Buckle up ladies, we're off.” He calls towards us. I wave, since I'm the only one he can see.

“Where to now?” I question, leaning back against the couch. He looks lost in thought, biting the side of his lip. He moves his fingers around, like he's making arrows on a map that only he can see.

“Arizona, then New Mexico.” He pauses.

“There's two shows in Texas.” He adds. I raise my eyebrow.

“Why?” I question, letting my arms fall to the couch. He shrugs.

“Big state I guess. I didn't pick the dates.” He assures, shaking his head lightly. He moves carefully, trying not to disturb Crystal. She has already fallen asleep against his shoulder.

“I'm not sure where after that. I'll have to get my assistant to print out

a list of the dates.” He offers. I nod, looking over my shoulder at the window. I watch the white lines on the road, passing us by. It reminds me of the many other times I've done this exact activity. When I was living with Luke, I got a little drunk one night. The next morning, I felt like death had hit me with a truck and I was walking around a zombie. I was dizzy and felt like throwing up all the food I hadn't eaten. He sat on the edge of the bed, watching as I sat on the floor. Then he started rambling about lines in the road. He painted the visual of the lines going faster and faster until I threw up on myself. He just laughed, feeling accomplished. He wasn't being cruel, but he was reminding me it was my own fault.

“You seem, distant.” He observes. I pull my eyes from the road and let them land on him.

“I'm just thinking.” I mumble. I don't need to tell him what I'm thinking about. He knows. The white lines on the road are painting arrows away from Hunter.