How Not To Be A Groupie

My face continued to burn as Bon loomed over me, one hand on the bathroom doorknob, the other on the wall as he steadied himself. I held my breath, knowing I'd probably give ourselves away if I took so much as one little gasp. Bon held a finger to his lips and pressed his ear against the door. As people got on and off the bus, the little bathroom we locked ourselves in shook and rattled. Bon had waited until no one was looking before grabbing my hand and pulling me in, shutting the door. At first I looked at him like he was crazy and demanded to know what the big idea was before he shushed me. Realizing he wasn't doing what I thought he was doing, I kept quiet and waited for him to explain. 

The backs of my legs pressed flush against the toilet and I tried not to cry from the smell. After a hot day and a long drive to and from the venue, the bathroom had seen some things. I couldn't help but notice something sticking out from a low shelf. A tiny box of some kind. It almost looked like a packet of cigarettes. 

Some chatter got really close to the bathroom and Bon had to put a hand to his mouth to stifle any giggling. His other hand held fast to the knob in case anyone tried to open it for one last go in the loo. What would happen if someone got in and found us here? What would they think? Maybe they'd give Bon a thumbs up and close the door. Maybe they'd give me a dirty look. Or maybe they'd question what the fuck we were doing. And I wouldn't have an answer. 

Water splashed in the bowl and I prayed none of it would get on me. After more shaking and me almost falling straight into the toilet, the person outside the door left and the bus was quiet. Instead of opening the door right away, Bon held still, waiting. After a solid minute of nothing, he slowly opened the door and peered out, a tiny wave of fresh air pouring in. "What are you doing?" I whispered.

"I think they're gone," he said, opening the door a little wider. Stepping one foot out and looking up and down the bus, Bon zipped out of the bathroom and hurried to the windows, pulling a curtain shut then peeking outside. I hustled out of that bathroom and closed the door, only for the door to open again and hit me on my ass. I slammed it closed and huffed. 

"What are we still doing here?" I asked. What on earth had Bon planned for us to do on the tour bus?

Bon sat back in the seat, propping his legs up and resting his hands behind his head. "Anythin' we want," he smiled. 

"Are you crazy?" I asked. "Someone's going to come back for something. Or the driver's locked the doors from the outside and we can't get out." I thought back to what I knew about buses. "Can't the doors only open if the bus is on?"

"Ya' think I couldn't kick the doors open if I wanted to?" Bon asked, demonstrating a kick from his reclined position. "There's probably a key in the glove box anyway."

I wanted to see for myself. I marched to the front of the bus and opened up a brown, rectangle shaped cabinet with a sparkling silver handle. Underneath stacks of papers, maps, and a broken pen, there was a single key. I put it in my pocket just in case and shut the compartment before going back to Bon who had closed every single curtain on the bus so no one could see in. "Why are staying here again?" I asked. "Refresh my memory, please."

"'Cause you're losin' your spirit," he said, inspecting a stain on one of the curtains. I didn't want to say anything but it looked like a blood stain. "You've been out of it since breakfast this mornin' an' I thought this might cheer you up."

"You thought me being kidnapped would cheer me up?" I asked, my voice rising. I almost started laughing. Bon looked a bit sheepish but held back a laugh as well. "Where are we going to sleep?"

"The beds, of course," he said, nodding at the coffin-like beds in the back. "You ever sleep in one of those before?"

I thought back to when I had taken a tour of one of the buses a couple weeks ago and fell asleep in one of the beds. "I have, actually," I said.