"The Greyhound Blues" Part IIB

**Story Week Continues**

Click here for "Greyhound Blues, Part I"
Click here for "Greyhound Blues, Part IIA"

Aaron skipped up the narrow column of steps and onto the Greyhound bus. The bus was brighter than usual, the top lights being juiced up a bit by the personal reading lights hovering just above the individual bus seats. The bus was only half full. As usual, the elderly scattered themselves near the front, while the younger riders packed the back.

Aaron strolled to the back of the bus, eager to take his place among the hip crew. The sound of tinny rock music grew louder and louder the closer he got to the back.

Several young guys, all appearing to be college-aged, commandeered the two back rows and were laughing hard over some inside joke or tale. One spotted Aaron coming their way, and pointed at him. Another threw his backpack in the one lone empty seat in their midst. Someone turned the music down.

“What’s up, fellas?” Aaron asked.

They all laughed, one of them even mimicking his greeting.

“Nothing much, bro,” a scraggly red-headed guy replied. He unzipped his maroon down jacket, then placed his hand atop the seat occupied by his backpack “And I hope you don’t think you’re sitting back here with us. Not with all those empty seats up front.”

“That’s cool,” Aaron said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sounded like a lot of fun going on back here. Thought I’d be able to sit with you. Good conversation makes the ride go by faster.”

“Well, you thought wrong,” the red head replied. He looked around at his friends. “Right, fellas?”

They all nodded in agreement and exchanged fist pounds. They stared Aaron down.

Aaron turned around and started back towards the front of the bus. He was in no mood to argue over a seat that he had every right to sit in.

To his left, two seats ahead of the rowdy college crew, he spotted a sister dressed in black leather from head to toe. She sat with her legs wide open, one leg propped up, the thin heel of her high heel boot stabbing the cloth fabric of the bus seat. A small laptop computer was perched on her thigh, and she was busy peeling off her leather gloves.

“Twist,” Aaron said.

The woman cut her eyes up at him, then looked all around about her, then back up at him. She flipped stray blond streaked black hair back behind her ear.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you.”

“Excuse me?”

Aaron let his duffel bag fall to the floor. He leaned over, folding his arms and resting them on the back of the seat in an effort to get closer to her. “Twist that pretty thick leg out the way so I can sit with you, sugar.”

She frowned. She gripped the laptop then flipped her other leg up, crossing her legs at the ankle. “There’s no sugar here, player. Uh, maybe you should check up front with the geriatric crew. You might find some sugar up there.”

She delivered those words in one of the most sexiest voices he’d ever heard. A series of oohs and foot stomps exploded from the back of the bus. Aaron glanced over his shoulder at the laughing fellas then back at the young lady.

“You can’t catch a break, can you, bro?” the all to familiar red head yelled.

Aaron smiled and backed away from the woman. “I guess not.”
.
“Then I guess it’d be a good idea for you to go back up to the front, then.”

“I guess so.”

“You need to get that ancient version of the Bluetooth out your ear, looking like a Star Trek Cyborg.”


Aaron adjusted his Bluetooth in his ear.

“You will never catch me, Captain Kirk,” one of the guys growled in a low scary voice. More laughter erupted from the crew.

Aaron glanced back at the young lady. Her laptop was now open, it’s neon blue glow illuminating her soft brown skin. She was typing hard and fast, her head leaning back against the bus window. He wanted to say more, but had a disturbing vision of a laptop coming fast and hard at his head.

He gave a polite nod of defeat, lifted his duffel bag, and started back towards the front of the bus.
“You can sit with me, sexy,” he heard someone say. Aaron stopped and turned in that direction.

Two guys were staring at him, smiling hard.

One of the guys, a light brother with way too much gel caked in hair, keeping it at full attention, grinned. He licked his lips in high anticipation. His sidekick leaned in closer to his friend to get a better look.

“Uh, you don’t appear to have room for me.”

“Not really. But if you can’t find a seat up front, feel free to double back and sit on my lap.” Both men giggled.

Aaron thanked him, but declined. “Where are you fellas heading?”

They both smiled, happy for any semblance of conversation. “We’re heading to the Brand New Heavies concert.”

Aaron hadn’t heard of this Brand New Heavies, but figured it must be some type of rock band. “The Heavies. I’m going to see them, too. Been looking forward to this concert for months.”

This little tad of information really excited them. “So, you like the Heavies? What’s your favorite song?” They both leaned forward, waiting for his answer.

“I uh, like the slow songs. Love the slow ones.”

“Really,” the light brother said. “They don’t have many of those, the slow songs, I mean. But you must be a good man if you like the slow songs.”

Aaron had no idea what that meant. He gripped his duffel bag, said his goodbyes, and continued his trek towards the front of the bus. There was nothing worse than getting hit on by other men. He knew he didn’t do anything to draw such attention, but for some reason he became a homosexual magnet at times. He didn’t even notice them when he got on the bus. He quickened his step when he heard one of the guys mention something about his ass.


In his effort to get away, he tripped over something in the aisle. He almost fell forward, but grabbed the back of an empty seat to steady himself. A ball of yarn flipped back behind him and lay at his heel. He turned around, leaned down and picked it up, juggling the soft odd shaped mass in his hands. He looked up into the face of a thin white woman with blonde hair so scraggly that it looked like a bird had tried to make a nest there, but abandoned the idea. She turned away quickly, craning her neck to look out the window.


“Look Mom, I made it to the next level!” A small hand jutted a hand held game into the woman’s face.

“That’s nice, Johnny,” the dishelved woman replied as she pushed it away. “Real nice.”

She gripped a well worn tissue in her hand, tearing it into small pieces which floated like snowflakes to the floor of the bus. Thin ragged scratches faintly disguised with makeup stretched the length of her face.

A bony hand wrinkled with age appeared near Aaron’s face.

“That’s mine,” a woman said. She wiggled her hand. “I just dropped it. It’s mine.”

Aaron turned his attention to the woman sitting across the aisle from the blonde. He stood up straight and handed the ball of yarn back to her. “Oh, I wasn’t going to steal it, Ma’am.”

The old lady chuckled. “I know, I know. Just that sometimes, you know, you have to be quick on the draw. Last time I dropped my yarn on the bus, it rolled to the front and the bus driver threw it in the trash. Couldn’t even use it after that. It was all wet and sticky.”

“Well I guess you have to be more careful then.”

“I try to be. But these bones are getting old. Can’t sprint like I use to.”

“Old?” Aaron said. “Old? Ma’am, you don’t look a day over forty.”

The old woman blushed, her skin glowing a deep red. She squeezed the ball of yarn, pulling it towards her sunken chest.

Aaron winked, and the woman flashed crowded yellow teeth. He loved making an old woman’s day. She’d be gushing about his simple compliment to the ladies of her knitting circle for a long time to come, peppering her stories with tales of how such a handsome young man she met on the bus begged to wisk her away to some far off secluded isle.

Aaron slung his duffel bag on a seat a couple of rows ahead of the old woman, just far enough away so that she wouldn’t harass him for the entire trip. The elderly had the most fascinating stories, but he couldn’t be aware of what was going on around him in the midst of paying attention to such conversations.

Such was the nature of his work on the Greyhound bus routes. He was member of the stealth Night Riders, a crew of undercover cops, much like the undercover airline sky marshals, charged with keeping the Greyhound system safe from crime. Since their beginnings some five years ago, they’d reduced crime at the station and on the more popular bus routes by over ninety-five percent. The Greyhound bus had become one of the safest modes of public transportation in the country, and he felt somehow responsible for that.

He settled in and stared out the window at the tall concrete wall separating the bus station from the outside world. Tonight the crew was rowdy, but harmless. He had time to think, plan, read.

Hopefully he could do enough to keep thoughts of Nia from flooding his mind.

He was jarred by the shake of the bus. The hefty bus driver had just ran up the steps, landed in his seat, closed the bus door. The driver inched forward out of the space. A hard rapt on the glass door caused him to hit the brakes.

“Yeah, I thought you’d get the message,” the bus driver said, through a hard laugh.

The mysterious woman in the pink fur coat slowly ascended the stairs of the bus. She combed her fingers through her hair, then leisurely made her way down the aisle.

Aaron could tell she was trouble by the way her nose was all stuck up in the air. He would have to keep a close eye on her. He moved his coat and patted the seat when she got closer. She paused, as if considering his invite, but kept walking. She slid into the seat behind the nervous blonde.

Aaron stared again at the blonde, hair scraggly, fidgeting with something in her lap. The scars on her face resembled those made by type of animal, or human even.

She’d been attacked by something or someone.

Aaron lay his head back against the seat. Poor woman, he thought. Abuse was a terrible thing. That woman was on the run from someone, probably on this bus headed for a new day, a new way of life for her and her son.

He was glad to be there, making sure she got safely to her new destination.

To be continued...

Afterword for Part II

Hmm... So, this pearly toothed brotha Aaron Fletcher is an undercover cop.

Hmm...

I stumbled across the idea of that, and hope to do more with it in the future, this whole "bus marshall" idea. I tried to throw in a few clues here and there, one of the biggest being his encounter with the surly prostitute Peaches just before he got on the bus. She was NOT happy to see him, lol. Not at all.

All I know, I can do a WHOLE lotta thangs with this "bus marshall" idea.

Puts a whole new spin on Ta.yari jumping up and trying to drive the bus, don't it? LOL! Sista might just get locked up!

I had a lot of problems (and am STILL having problems) with the logistics of Aaron getting on this bus and making a quick assessment of everyone there, and coupling that with Ta.yari making her appearance on the bus. I find that I don't like dealing with a lot of folk and having to remember where everyone is sitting, etc. But I think I worked most of that out, and will continue to work on that.

Hmm... But this story isn't quite going in the direction you may think it's going. If you notice, Aaron scoped out that bus pretty hard, didn't he? Talked to a few interesting people, didn't he?

Didn't he?

Well, come back tomorrow for Part III.

And since it's Valentine's day?

Look out for, uh... bit of romance.

Really though.

Stay tuned for Part III.