When the Bus Stopped

Chapter 2

"Pretty out there," a cameraman remarked. He nodded after the house bus driving down the road, almost submerged in clouds of black smoke.

"Yes... very pretty," Alessandro Magno agreed - misunderstanding the kiwi slang - "but not all of the water is getting to the water tank."

The cameraman shot him a confused look. "Oh right... She's a few sandwiches short of a picnic?"

"Si. She doesn't have all of the players."

The two men laughed.

"Ok everyone." The director bustled forward. "We are up to the second scene."

The subtext to his sentence lingered on the breeze between them. The outdoor sex scene.

Alessandro thanked his lucky stars the old house bus hadn't arrived a moment later. He was decidedly uncomfortable about swapping saliva with his co-star without a stunningly good looking woman guessing at what crimes were taking place like she was at some kind of charades night.

"We need to fix Olivia's makeup," one of the crew commented.

He glanced at his co-star subjectively. With shapely legs and a cute little face, he wouldn't have to try too hard to act like there was chemistry. Although it didn't help that every time their lips locked someone hollered "CUT!" And then new recommendations were shot forth: more tongue, less tongue, tongue to the left, no... tongue back a little bit more to the right, chin out.

When a battery had to be swapped on a camera and the boom was lifted out of shot, the two had tried to make small talk. Olivia was eager to discuss her husband and kid to the point of obsessive prattling. She didn't breathe between sentences leaving Alessandro no chance to get a word in, even if he'd wanted to.

While Alessandro Magno was quick to swap jokes and laughter on set, he'd managed to stop himself from getting any deeper than that. He'd learnt from past experience that divulging anything of consequence would lead to magazine covers splashing his photograph under some outrageous headlines, all justified - in their mind - by the simple sentence "sources close to Alessandro say"... He'd even had to watch his humor. Sarcasm was something he wasn't allowed to indulge in. He had to accept that every single person around him was desperate to make a little extra cash. On the few occasions Alessandro had trusted people he'd been badly let down.

That mistrust had left him stranded with other aging celebrities as his only peers. People - like him - who had a lot to lose.

Gone were the days when he could date whoever he pleased. Now it was only those he met in the VIP lounge of well-established, glitzy nightclubs.

Because women like the dreadlocked beauty in her large house bus had become out of reach for him, he'd only desired them more. Their casual freedoms... the way they could come and go as they pleased. With no one watching ... no "cancel culture" to care about.

But he wouldn't be careless... once they sunk their claws in they would bleed him dry. Alessandro didn't believe he was half as attractive as the "World's hottest Bachelor" articles proclaimed. The only thing about him that made women weak at the knees - as far as he was concerned - was his overflowing bank account.

He just hoped that the unhinged Medusa chugging off down the road didn't have a hallelujah moment. Being stalked for the remainder of his visit by a large bus - camouflaged by the smoke that poured continuously from its exhaust pipe - might be very unforgettable.

"Strange!" Olivia said reaching his side, lips dabbed with a red gloss. She sucked in a huge gulp of oxygen and burst forth into an unintelligible conversation. "Imagine living in a bus, I couldn't go a week without my bath and hair dryer, my husband always makes jokes about it. He says 'Olivia, I need to get an electrician to move the electrical switches away from the bath in case you electrocute yourself. When my son misses me he just gets a pillow and brings it into the bathroom and sits by the plug to spend time with me.'"

She stopped talking long enough to bark with laughter. "I'm so indulgent like that."

He tried to smile politely but ended up grimacing at her. "Hm."

She gushed on, oblivious of his expression. "And what an interesting looking woman she was, do you think her outfit cost less than a bag of rice? I never bought an item of clothing for less than eighty dollars. And that is counting my handkerchiefs." Another bellow of laughter. "Another reason my husband calls me indulgent. She was very interesting looking, you know what I mean? Not beautiful, though."

Alessandro shot Olivia a sharp look. "She might be nuts but she was definitely very beautiful."

"Oh." Olivia seemed shocked by his outburst.

He could almost kick himself. He could see the headlines now, "Alessandro's new love interest" with 'sources' confirming it.

There was a long pause. Olivia cleared her throat. "I guess I didn't see her too well... she seemed a little large. My husband always says that I barely eat. He thinks I have the same appetite as a sparrow, can you believe it?" Cue her over excited laughter which - without breath - lunged back into words. "He says that he supports my job as an actor - but he hopes plus size becomes fashionable, because then it wont hurt so much when I accidentally elbow him in bed. I'm a very restless sleeper."

She babbled like a creek after heavy rain, not noticing the glazed look on Alessandro's face.

As the director barked out orders to his crew, and his co-star talked, Alessandro's mind returned to the woman and her copper red dreadlocks. His unhinged Medusa. His? He stopped himself sharply.

She definitely wasn't - and wouldn't be - his.

His brain obeyed momentarily settling into calm.

But then it began whispering again. Whispering excitedly, he began tuning out on his inner voice as effectively as he was tuning out on his co-star.

Until the whisper grew louder... she was a bohemian Medusa. His mind played on that for a short while. Until it struck him, just as his lips were connecting with Olivia's.

Bohemian Medusa you cast a spell on me... His nose wrinkled at the idiocy of the words.

"CUT!"

He looked up.

"Alessandro, keep your nose still. And hands away from her face, you're obscuring her from view. "

Alessandro hadn't written new lyrics in five years. The previous year he had recorded covers of Christmas songs. The years before that he'd forked out good money for someone else to throw together some upbeat words with completely no meaning. He'd lost his mojo... but something had triggered his creativity. Or someone.

While he struggled with where to put his hands and chin for the ensuing two hours it was there, teasing his brain. Lyrics filled his mind... all kinds of lyrics: from the idiotic and insane to deep and profound.

He felt an urgent need to see her again. Could it be possible that she was the strangely dressed muse he needed?