GREYHOUND GRIFTER

GREYHOUND GRIFTER

         The blue and silver Greyhound rounded the corner of Broadway and Delmar.  The driver eased its sleek body up to the terminal and spit out a half-dozen winter-bundled passengers. LOS ANGELES, read the destination placard over the windshield.

         This is my bus!  Ellie thought as she scanned the faces of the waiting passengers. I hope no one sees how excited I am. I don’t need these people to think I’m some kind of silly dreamer like mother does.

         She opened her compact and a thin pink cloud of powder filled the air in front of her.  The face in the small round mirror pleased her. She admired her green felt hat with its grosgrain ribbon band and puff of white ostrich feathers off to the side. I’m a knockout in my new Claudette Colbert blouse.  I love these thin black stripes and the white collar and cuffs.

         The stitched image of a man serenading a young girl on her petit point purse pleased her, even if the bag didn’t match her ensemble. Her opened-toed pumps were passé, but polished to a high shine.  If I had just a couple more bucks, I could get a pair that would knock those Hollywood talent scouts back on their heels. But, as it was, Ellie had only fourteen dollars to make this trip and survive until she landed a part.
 
         All the women waiting for this bus are big chunks of lead. They’d never make it in Hollywood and the men aren’t much better --except for that tall guy in the front of the line with the dark, Brylcreemed  hair and Gable moustache. If his clothes weren't so shabby, I could fall for a guy like that.
       
         Gable smiled at her as she passed. Ellie smiled back and shrugged her narrow shoulders to say it was too bad the seat next to him was taken.  She found a seat toward the back and secreted her handbag between her hip and the wall of the bus. 

         As the bus pulled out an old woman with a worn gray hat and a Woolworth's shopping bag sat down next to her. In Tulsa, after shopping bag got out, Ellie watched Gable hotfoot his way down the aisle and plant himself next to her.

*

          “Hey Babe, I’ve been waiting for this spot since St. Louis,” he said as he put his small case on the overhead shelf and tucked his newspaper in the net pouch in front of them.   
       
         “Sit down then,” she said, ecstatic he’d come to find her. He’s tall, but not skinny tall, and he’s handsome! Too bad he dresses like he’s down on his luck, but then, who isn’t these days?”

         “The name’s Pete.  What’s yours?

         “Call me Ell.”

         “Where you comin’ from, Ell?

         “Effingham, Illinois. You?”

         “Cleveland, here. How far you goin'?”

         “Hollywood.  I’m an actress.”

         “Really? Me too!” Pete said.

         “You're an actress?” Ellie asked, raising both of her plucked crescent brows.

         “No! No! I’m an actor.  That's why I’m going to Hollywood too.  Looks like we’ll have a couple of days to get to know each other.”

*

         “Next stop, Amarillo, Texas.” The driver’s voice crackled over the loudspeaker. “You have thirty minutes and only thirty minutes.This bus waits for no one!” 

         “When we get to Amarillo, how about we get ourselves a couple a’ sinkers and some joe?” Pete asked.

         “You buyin’?”

         “Not this time, Babe, but when I’m working again, I’ll buy you a baker’s dozen of Hollywood’s finest. Then I’ll take you and that bag of doughnuts over to the Grauman’s Chinese Theater to see the actors’ handprints in the cement. I hear they got Gable’s, Harlow’s and even the Marx brothers’ there.”

         The bus swerved into the terminal lot and pulled to a stop. “Amarillo, thirty minutes!”

         “You think Claudette Colbert’s handprints are there too?”
       
         “No way to know until we get there.” Pete said as he placed his arm around Ellie’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze, “How ‘bout we go see for ourselves?”       

         That squeeze sure felt nice and he wants to pal up when we get to Hollywood.  I won’t be on my own!  Ellie leaned into Pete’s body but quickly pulled away. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

*

         The bus rolled past endless miles of pastureland. There was nothing to see, but she didn’t care.  Ellie hadn’t even arrived in Hollywood and already she was cuddling with Gable beneath her pink shawl with its silver threads.

*

         “Flagstaff, Arizona coming up! Twenty minute stop!” the driver barked.

         “So what plays have you been in?” she asked.

         “It’s, uh - it's hard to remember them all.  You guess a play and I’ll tell you if I’ve been in it.”

         “How about Abe Lincoln in Illinois? That’s real popular in playhouses in Chicago and Springfield right now.”

         “Oh, sure. I played that in Cleveland. What role do you think I had?”

         “Abe Lincoln, of course! They’d want a tall guy for the part, right?”

         “Right again, Miss Ell.  Any other guesses?”
 
         “How about The Man Who Came to Dinner?”

         “Another good guess! And my part was?”

         “You played the guy who broke his leg, Sheridan something, right?”

         “Right again!  You sure know your onions when it comes to the theater.”

         “I follow that kind of thing, it being my profession.”

         “Now you tell me what plays you’ve been in,” he said.

         “I was in the Mikado in high school. I played Nanki-Poo, one of the three little maids. You remember!“ Ellie said and began to sing:

                             Three little maids from school are we
                             Pert as a school-girl well can be
                             Filled to the brim with girlish glee
                             Three little maids from school
                                                 (The Mikado – G & S )

         “You’re such a peach!” Pete said and lifted her chin to plant a kiss on her glossy red lips.

         “Don’t do that! People will see!” Ellie said as she reached for her compact to check the status of her lipstick.

         “Okay, no more kissing, for now.  So, any other acting parts?”

         “I played Molly Larkins in The Farmer Takes a Wife, but that was an amateur production at the VFW Hall. The audience was loaded with broken down old guys leftover from the Great War.  Some were even older than that.  It was scary.”

         “At least you’ve got some experience to tell those Hollywood movie moguls about.”

         Ellie smiled up at him.  She liked this guy. He made her feel safe. “But I still don’t have the kind of acting experience you do.”

         “You will, Ell. Give it time.”

*

         “Rise and shine, ladies and gents.  We’re coming up on Needles, California. You have 30 minutes to get some breakfast.”

         “What did he say? What time is it?” Ellie asked, wiping the sleep from the inner corners of her eyes.

         “It's 6:00am, sweetheart. We get thirty minutes in Needles,” Pete said as he pushed back her shiny black bangs to kiss her forehead.

         “But it’s sooo early!”

         “I thought you were on pins and needles to get to California?”

         “Ugh! What a terrible joke. Just shut up and let me sleep,” Ellie said, putting her head on his shoulder.

*

         "Los Angeles bus departing in 5 minutes." A squeaky female voice blasted over the loudspeaker in the Needles terminal café. "All passengers on board!” 

         “Hollywood here we come!” Ellie said as she bounded back onto the bus.       

         “I have an announcement, ladies and gentlemen. The Reverend Ace Willoughby, a member of the Foursquare Gospel Temple in Los Angeles, has graciously offered to perform Sunday services for us. He’ll begin in a few moments.”

         “Oh no,” Ellie groaned, “Isn’t that the idiot who left something behind at every bus terminal we’ve stopped at? It’s a wonder he still has his trousers.”

         “Yep, that’s him,” Pete chuckled as he looked through the window at the bleak desert landscape, “Why not go back to sleep and I’ll listen to Reverend Willoughby for you.”

         “Don’t bother" Ellie said, "I’m not from church going people.”  She nuzzled her way under his arm and drifted into dreams of Hollywood and stardom.

         She awoke with the desert sun hammering against her window. “Whew!  It’s hot,” she said, pulling away from the warmth of Pete’s body,  “How long have I been asleep?”

         “A couple of hours.”

         “How was the preacher?”

         “A real flat-tire, put me to sleep a couple of times.”

         “No big surprise.” Ellie said as she reached into her handbag for her compact. Her arched brows pinched together tight. The stuff inside my bag is messed up! What happened to my singles? My change? I HAD twelve dollars and thirty-five cents left!

         Ellie stood up and glared down at Pete. “You bastard! You took my money!” She shouted loud enough for everyone to hear. “Someone get the driver!”

         “Quiet down! Please sit!” Pete whispered, tugging at her arm.

         “I will NOT quiet down,” she said and jerked loose from his grasp, “You’re nothing but a thief. How could you? Driver! Help me!”

         The bus slowed to a stop at the desert’s edge and the driver came down the aisle. Reverend Willoughby trailed a few steps behind.

         “What’s going on back here?” the driver asked as he tucked his shirt back into his trousers.

         “This man stole my money while I was sleeping.”

         “It’s not true.  Maybe she lost her money at the terminal in Needles?”

         “How well do you know this man, young lady?”

         ”I met him when he sat down next to me in Tulsa.”

         “You have a job, young man?”

         “A job? What does that have to do with anything? Hardly anyone has a job these days.”

         The bus driver turned to confer with the preacher then motioned for two male passengers to come closer.

         “Stand up and empty your pockets.”

         “I don’t have to do that. You’re not the police.”

         The driver cleared the way as the two men, both a lot heftier than Pete, approached. “No, I’m not the police, but on this bus, I’m the boss, Buster, so empty ‘em!”

         Pete pulled his pockets inside out and a fountain of silver and copper coins clattered onto the floor. A collection of crumpled bills drifted after them.

         “Everybody back. Nobody but the girl touches that money,” the driver said.

         ”But that money is mine!”

         The driver pointed to the suitcase in the overhead rack, “That yours?”

         “Yes,” Pete answered.

         The driver snatched the bag from its roost and shoved it into Pete’s chest, “Now get out!”

         “You can’t do that. I bought my ticket fair and square."

         “Fella, I can do whatever I want on my bus and I got these guys behind me to prove it.”

         "But It’s the middle of the desert!  I’ll die out here."

         “You won’t die. The Cadiz train station is four miles that way,” the driver said, pointing to a turnoff just ahead.

         Pete looked out the window but all he saw was a narrow gravel road and barren dry hills in the distance.

         “I can't see any train station from here.  How do I know you’re not lying?”

         “It’s my job to put you off this bus, mister, not to kill you. There’s water in Cadiz and maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll be able to hop a freight out of there.

         Pete looked over at Ellie and shook his head.

         “Enjoy your hike. You crumb!” she said.

         “You’ll do real good in Hollywood, you bimbo bitch.”

         “Get that guy outta here!”  the bus drive shouted and his volunteer goons obeyed, tossing Gable, head first, into the dirt.
                   

*

         “Next stop, Newberry Springs,” said the bus driver as he levered the door shut, threw the Super Greyhound into gear and the bus churned forward.

         Good riddance, Ellie thought as she watched Pete disappear in the smoke behind the departing bus.

         …seventeen, eighteen, nineteen dollars, not counting the change. This is gravy! Now I have enough money for those shoes!

word count  ___________