Page 20 of Love on Tour
“Nope. I’ll be fine up here,” she said, patting the upper bunk. “Is there anything else I need to know?”
“Yes. If we stop in the middle of the night, you know, to gas up or whatever, do not get off the bus without someone knowing about it.”
“But if it’s the middle of the night, I won’t want to wake anyone,” Christine said, reasoning it through.
“The driver doesn’t do a bunk check. You’ll get left behind. If you can’t find the bus driver to let him know, the signal is to leave a roll of paper towels on his seat. That lets him know somebody got off the bus.”
“Do people really get left behind?” Christine asked.
“Hell, a superstar once got left behind. Trust me, use the paper towels. It works.”
“Got it.” Christine prayed she wouldn’t need to get off the bus. She couldn’t fathom being left at a truck stop somewhere.
Another door at the far end of the bunk area caught her eye.
“The back lounge is through that door,” Austin said. “I’m sure you remember the closet of women’s clothing.” He chuckled. “There’s another small bathroom and a couch in there. Use whatever you need.”
“Thanks.” She didn’t want to think about any recent additions to the closet.
They returned to the front lounge, and Christine met the few people she didn’t already know. The bus driver, Al, peeked his head into the front lounge where everyone was packed in tight. He addressed Christine directly. “Now, little lady, I’m not sure what you know about being on a band bus, but we don’t go number two in the toilet.”
Christine’s eyes darted from the bus driver to Austin to Matt and back to Austin, who stepped in to save her.
“I’m sure she’ll be okay.”
Christine smiled with relief.
“I told her to poop before bus call.”
“You what? No, you didn’t.” She looked at the band and then the bus driver. “I didn’t . . . I mean . . . he didn’t. I . . . um . . .” Her eyes briefly met Matt’s before she looked away in humiliation.
“Long as you don’t poop on the bus, we’re good. Let’s go,” the driver said. He hopped into his seat and started up the rig.
Christine sat down, horrified, while Austin fell onto the couch roaring.
“Asshole,” Christine mouthed.
“Welcome to the road, Chrissy!”
The guys fired up the movieJackass Number Two, and as the movie played, they yelled things like “gross,” “freaking disgusting,” and “dude, that’s fucked up” while Christine sat in her corner trying to appear like she was enjoying it while nearly throwing up.
Alicia fit in like one of the guys. She high-fived the others at the most disgusting parts, and when there was a scene thatincluded a guy getting overturned in a port-a-potty, she laughed so loud she snorted. Christine tried to laugh with her, the whole female bonding thing, but it came out more like a smirk.
Christine heard a door open and then close, and a guy walked into the lounge from the back of the bus. His wrinkled T-shirt read SHARTHAPPENS. His sweatpants had a food stain as well as a couple of holes, and his hair stood up in all directions.
“Dudes, I just left an epic fart in the back lounge.”
“Shit, man. I’ve got a guest on board. Chill,” Austin said. He looked at Christine. “This is Ralph, our sound tech.”
Ralph reached over to shake her hand, and Christine wished she was wearing a glove. “Christine,” she said.
“Woo-hoo!We’ve got a chick on the bus,” Ralph said, causing Austin to groan.
“Excuse me. You always have a chick on the bus,” Alicia said.
“Where?” Ralph asked, looking past her.
Alicia flipped him off.
