Page 114 of Corrupted Bride

EPILOGUE: MARI

“How big is it again?”

The grizzled old lady pats the side of the bus fondly. “This here’s a full size International. Forty feet long, eight wide, ten tall, around twenty-five-thousand pounds of pure heaven.” She grins and scrapes her fingernail over some rust. “Mostly heaven anyways.”

I walk slow around the old school bus. It’s in good condition despite some of the blemishes. Bass made sure to send over two separate mechanics to look it over, I think as a way to scare me off, but they both agreed the bus has great bones. I reach the door and pry it open, climbing up and gazing down the middle.

Dirty, rotting seats, everything falling apart. It smells faintly mildewy. Old chewing gum is plastered to the floor.

But I can see the future. A kitchen there, a bathroom there, bed way in the back. Poor Bass will have to stoop, but this isn’t about him.

It’s about me and freedom.

Not to escape. That was the old days. No, I’m not running from anymore.

More like running to. And dragging Bass along, kicking and screaming.

“Twenty-two thousand?” I call to the woman waiting outside.

“Twenty-two,” she agrees.

I haggle her down to twenty and we shake. She beams with pride as we walk together back toward her barn. “So you doing one of them conversions?” she asks with a flippant shrug. “I seen them on Instagram.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Gonna do it yourself?”

“Definitely. I’ll have help, but I’m not in any rush.”

“Atta girl. That’s the way. Do it all yourself, make your mistakes. Nothing you can do to this bus is gonna break it.”

“You know anything about building a motor home?”

“Nah, not a clue. I flip these things to people like you.” She cackles as she gathers up the paperwork.

Bass stares at the bus parked behind the garage for a full minute before sighing. “I can’t believe you actually bought it.”

“Check this out!” Cruz leans out a window and throws a paper airplane at me. “It was under a seat!”

“Oh god, that must be like a decade old.”

“Probably more!” Cruz disappears back into the bus.

“At least he’s happy,” Bass says, kicking one of the tires. “And what’s the final plan for this?”

“You know.” I lean against him, smiling. “We’ll drive around the country together.”

“And you think I’m going to fit in that thing?”

“Okay, maybe we’ll drive around Texas. Or I’ll drive alone!”

“Like I’m going to let you out of my sight in this thing,” he snarls, hugging me against him protectively.

“Then you’ll have to suck it up and come with me. It won’t be all the time. Maybe for a few weeks a year.”

“Fine.” He grunts the word and leans down to kiss me. “Only because I love you. No fucking way I’d ever be caught dead in a school bus otherwise.”

“I know.” I touch his cheek. “But don’t worry. This is a problem for future-Bastiano. I have a lot of work to do first.”