Bruce gets rid of his guitarist but he knows they won’t let him alone that easily. Isn’t like they suffer of a total lack of talent, but drunk and drugged mates are the worst company. Bruce gets in the bus looking around. There’s still empty spaces when he sees his guitarist jumping into the bus as well. Knowing him, he surely bought a ticket too. Recalling an old trick, Bruce looks for an old lady with no luck, so he sits besides the nearest woman he finds. He pretends to be busy with his bag as that guy passes, but of course his guitarist recognises him anyway.
“Listen, Shorty…” says the guy all leather and oxygenated hair.
“Don’t call me Shorty”
“Okay, man” Bruce twists his mouth, if at least could talk a little bit less louder… “Listen, you’ll missing a great chance, you…”
“Sssshhh… Don’t you see she’s sleeping?!”
The guy roughly looks at her and talks again.
“Listen, I tell you…”
“Shut up!! Let my cousin sleep!” says Bruce trying to speak undertone.
“Your cousin? Do you have a cousin?”
“You’re looking at her right now.”
“I didn’t know you have a cousin.”
“Well, now you know.”
“Yeah, whatever. I’m telling you…”
“Shut the fuck up!” says Bruce clinching his teeth “She’s ill, have some respect!”
“Why should I? It’s not my problem.”
“Well! It’s MY problem.” says Bruce getting up.
But his guitarist is not impressed, he’s almost 20 cms. taller.
“I don’t mind. The point is “
“The point is you’re annoying my arse off.” says a tall and tattooed man standing right beside the guitarist “Get off! I can’t sit.”
A word between why and what appears in his mouth and fades. Now this is an impressive man. Other voices rise from the bunch trying to get in the bus. “What’s wrong?” “I don’t know ” “Why that dude is stuck there?” “Move on, mate!!!” The guitarist looks around but now the bus is almost complete. He tries to leave them space but is cursed by an old man who got an elbow in his eyes. The guitarist throws gross words to the old man. Frowning faces arise everywhere looking angry at him. The guitarist realises that he can’t fight against everybody and now the bus is full, so he turns around and leaves the bus. Passengers slowly get back to their respective business, the old man keeps grumbling for himself, the tattooed man reaches his seat and Bruce sits down. Sylvia is looking in curiosity. The bus starts. Bruce rubs his forehead, his headache is striking back.
“What happened?” asks Sylvia.
“Do you know?”
“Uhm… just a fight, you know, there’s no place and that…” Bruce avoids details, ashamed of knowing such a person.
“Ah… looked as if you know him… that’s why I asked…” Bruce gulps.
“Oh, no, no. I mean, I know who is but is no friend of mine.”
“Ah… Who is?”
“He looks so queer and you said you know him… Is he famous or something?”
“Yeah, yeah, but long ago.” Bruce leans towards her as if he were going to say a secret. “Now he’s drowned in alcohol, you know, rock star life and so… that crap”
“Yeah! I don’t do that.”
“Don’t do… what?”
“Getting drunk, wasting talent…”
But now the mystery is solved for her so she lost her interest. Sylvia turns her head and looks through the window. Bruce looks for his headphones inside the bag. He feels better now his band mates are faraway and people don’t confuse him anymore with them.