When the Bus Stopped

Chapter 7

Lucy had transformed men's shirts into little girl's dresses, old white tee shirts had been slathered with hot wax and dip dyed before being given an interesting new shape. Men's old work ties were sewn together with a degree of care to make cutesy dresses and old sandals had been lovingly covered in buttons and sequins until they resembled something that belly dancers might enthuse over.

Lucy had put a lot of money into the new investment. Swapping her large roomy house truck which she had grown up in for a smaller, more compact house bus (something which had aggrieved her father, as he liked to think people that drove house bus' were Tin Hippies while the house truckers were so much more gritty).

The money she'd made for the exchange she was going to inject into her business... but instead of having a nice sum of money to fall back on Lucy had found herself driving her new bus to the garage to fix the wiring, followed by every single part of the motor. To put it bluntly, she'd been ripped off.

He chewed on this for a bit. "I don't know why I'm asking this, but - do you have a web page?"

"I don't think so. What is that?"

"A page on the internet."

"No. I've only used the internet once because someone was showing me how to check the weather."

"Well, I only asked because it is a great idea for business. You can up your clientèle and make more sales while working from home."

"I'm actually flat out as it is. I travel to some really eclectic markets around the country. This is the first year that I've branched out into upcycling but I used to sell my ex-boyfriend's art pieces and jewelry. And before that, I read Tarot Cards."

Daniello flinched. "Tarot Cards? Are you into that?"

"I grew up reading them; it is a no brainer for me. But as to whether I believe in it... I'm not sure. It is a bit like Astrological signs... you learn to say things loosely enough just in case. But now I want to follow my dreams."

"So what are your dreams? Do you want to become a fashion designer?"

Lucy laughed loudly, before noticing the expression on his face. "Oh. You aren't joking! Ummm, no. I just want to be happy and keep living my bohemian lifestyle while being able to let my creativity out to play. I guess I want to have my cake and eat it too."

"Well, that would be the most realistically achievable dream I've ever heard. Most people want fame and fortune."

"Well, you know my thoughts on that."

Down below their balcony, Lucy could hear a car door slamming. "Alessandro," a drunk woman's voice warbled. "I know you are in there Alessandro!"

The drunk woman's companion started cackling like an intoxicated chook. "MARRY ME ALESSANDRO MAGNO!"

"I've overheard that name a couple of times today. I wonder who it is," Lucy said.

Daniello looked surprised. "You don't know him at all? He's a world famous Tenor. He is here in New Zealand doing a few concerts."

"Oh right. I think I know the guy. About sixty or seventy years old, short and fat? A few years ago I saw him on my friend's television singing Christmas Carols. Sounds like he's smoked more than his fair share of cigarettes."

"That sounds like him!" Daniello said brightly. "Fat old bugger."

"Probably sitting in a hotel room somewhere crying into his wee hankie that he doesn't have any friends," Lucy lifted up her refilled glass. "Here is to us simple common folk with our refreshingly boring lives."

"Yes!" He agreed. "Super boring lives!" They chinked glasses.

After enjoying a few peaceful moments Daniello asked, "So. If you don't mind me asking, how much money do you make for a day at the market?"

"Profit only?"

"Uh huh."

"Last week I made eighty bucks for a day."

He sucked in his breath. "Eighty bucks?"

"Yeah, it is quite profitable."

"Profitable?" Daniello started coughing uncontrollably. When he finally got his breath back and had rubbed the tears out of his eyes he gasped, "Sorry. I just choked on a piece of sweet bread."

Lucy chortled. "Oh, the irony of that."

"Of what?"

"Choking on thyroid -" she sighed. "Don't worry about it, it is a karmic joke."

A long pause stretched out between them. "So how do you survive on eighty bucks?" He asked.

"I don't pay for power thanks to my solar powered generator. And I know how long to park on rivers or parks without getting a fine. So there is no rent."

"But what about your other bills? Your hairdresser, your fitness, your food, you must go out with friends ... What about all of that?"

"My fitness?" Lucy laughed. "I don't need that! I get enough exercise carrying buckets of water from the river to the tank in my bus every other day. My hair is hardly a high maintenance style," she said, lifting up a dreadlock as proof. "I only spend my money on food. And then a small amount is put in savings."

"You put away savings on that amount of money? I have never met a woman like you before!"

"And - to be quite honest with you - I have never met a man like you before. I noticed today that you were wearing makeup..?"

"I have to wear make-up for my job. For when I talk to the news... they don't want me washed out."

"So many things I didn't know about detectives!" Lucy exclaimed. She was about to plow on with what she had expected (namely the atrocious amounts of paperwork) when a waiter arrived with two gorgeous sundaes. The ice cream silenced her.