The journey to Paris, NY had left Manny over-hot, irritated and bored. The trip was short but the coach was slow and its progress ponderous. Or at least, that’s the impression it left Manny with.
Worse, when he finally got to the town, he found himself stuck in the open beneath the blazing sun with nothing to do but wait for the clock to run down the sixty minutes it would take the bus to Utica to arrive. At least, it would be an easy ride from there to New York. He had to be patient and wait, that was all.
He studied the neatly kept lawns and whitewashed buildings. Paris was as quiet as a morgue. At one point, a tractor rolled passed carting silage. The stench emanating from the cargo repelled him and his temper became brittle. The countryside sucked. Along the street he found a small store where he bought water and pilfered some mints. They didn’t sell sunscreen. The store was so dull he didn’t have the heart to kick-off about this omission, the middle-aged shop assistant so laid back she wouldn’t have noticed if he did.
Next door was a small store that sold clothes. As he strode in, the sales assistant regarded him warily over her glasses. She’s clocked my crappy gear, he thought. I wonder if she gets lots of trade from ex-inmates? He chose to ignore her, and made a beeline for the t-shirts and pants instead. A short while later he emerged into the daylight dressed in a navy-blue top emblazoned with the motif College 78 and three-quarter length charcoal slacks that fit better than the things the prison had dressed him in. His appearance was still ridiculous but at least he’d ditched his prison-chosen garments for some new clothes. Now, at least, he didn’t have the mark of a newly released man about him.
As he sauntered back down the street, short of money after his buying his attire, he popped a mint into his mouth and considered his situation. Aside from being broke, the plan was working as he’d hoped, and that gave him cause to smile. He loitered at the bus stop until the Utica coach pulled beside him. The driver was loose-chinned, with more stubble than hair. ‘You comin’ a-board?’
‘Maybe. Are you heading to Utica?’ Manny squinted. He’d some trouble focusing on the man through the glare of the sun.
The driver had taken a dislike to him and wagged a finger towards the sign at the front. ‘That’s what it says, bud.’
Manny climbed the steps onto the coach. He didn’t much care for the driver, either. ‘Well, I’m heading that way, so I’ll come on board.’
‘You gonna pay? Eight dollars will take ya all the way.’
Manny snorted. ‘What are you? A prostitute? I don’t wanna make out with you, dough-ball.’
‘Smart ass. Eight dollars will get ya to Utica. So… ya gonna pay?’
‘Nope.’ This was fun. It was good showing the schmuck who the boss was. Manny took another mint out of its packet and popped it into his mouth. To his eyes the driver suddenly appeared uncomfortable. That suited Manny fine.
‘Well, if ya ain’t paying, ya’s staying. Just ya turn your ass around and get back on the sidewalk.’
The mint was fresh and cool as he rolled it over his tongue. ‘Nope. I’m not gonna do that.’
One or two passengers tilted their heads toward them, spotting their altercation. Voices muttered. Manny sniggered to himself, relishing the disquiet. He particularly enjoyed the way the driver’s Adam’s apple bobbed under his neck fat as the he gulped and said, ‘Sir, I’ll remove ya by force if I have to. I’ll come right around and pull ya down those steps.’
Manny grinned and made a point of examining the driver’s physique, making sure the driver was aware he was being appraised. Then Manny straightened his back and stuck out his chest. ‘Look at me, then have a good look at yourself. Do you really want to try kicking me off the bus?’
‘I…’
Manny hadn’t done a windup like this for so long. He’d forgotten how much of a buzz he got from it. His irritation over the temperature receded, forgotten. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘this is what we’re gonna do…
‘I’m gonna walk right up the back and sit down nice and quiet. No fuss. No messing around. You’re gonna forget I’m on this crate. Instead, you’re gonna do your job and drive us to Utica. Right? Right? You’re gonna get all these nice folks with their shiny faces to their husbands, mistresses and granddaddies, or whoever else they’re visiting. Is that clear?’
The driver understood, at last. The flesh under his chin wobbled as he nodded consent.
‘Good. On you go. Drive.’ Manny strolled up the aisle. He smiled at his fellow passengers as he went, giving the occasional greeting. God, yeah. He was like the goddamn pope: beneficent, beatific. A small boy got a pat on the head, a girl a gentle press on the cheek. On the back seat he squeezed between a middle-aged man with a moustache and a too tight t-shirt, and an elderly lady dressed for winter. He rested his arms on the seat backs above their heads, allowed sweat from his armpits to waft over them. ‘That’s better…’ The man and woman edged away. Their movements were small, inconspicuous, but Manny spotted how their butts inched off to the side a little, giving him more room, which was fine by him. As he laughed to himself, he widened the gap between his knees and pointed his toes at the ceiling. His plan was coming together.
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