4. Finn
FOUR
Finn
PAST
It’s late, and I’m fucking wrecked.
I’ve been at this job for nearly two years, and I’ll never understand how a couple of hours of chatting up tourists can be more exhausting than a whole day on the rugby field.
And this new group is so fucking chatty.
Well, most of them, at least.
Stepping into my hotel room, I kick off my runners, empty my pockets on the small table by the window, and flop onto the queen-size bed fully clothed.
Just as my eyelids start to close, I hear my phone buzzing from across the room.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter under my breath.
Every bone in my body is screaming at me to let it go to voicemail, but since I’m technically on the clock all the damn time while on tour, I can’t. Groaning as I reach across the bed, I grab the phone and feel a grin spread across my face as soon as I see the caller ID.
“I didn’t expect to hear from you,” I say, bypassing any formal greeting. There’s no need after so many years of friendship.
“Well, considering I stepped out on you last night, I figured I at least owed you a phone call,” Rian replies.
I lean back against the headboard, choosing to remain upright. I don’t want to accidentally doze off on the lad.
“You make it sound like I’m your lover, and you’re calling to smooth things over.” I grin. “Not to say I wouldn’t appreciate a bouquet of flowers or a box of sweets.”
“I wouldn’t even know where to send them.” He chuckles. “You’re never home.”
“You’re one to talk.” My gaze wanders to the window, which offers a picturesque view of the Irish Sea—the same view I’ve seen dozens of times before.
“I wasn’t joking yesterday when I said I was missing home. This shit is getting old.”
“Yeah? Where’d they send you this time?”
“Seattle,” he says with a sigh. “Again. I’m worried they want me to relocate.”
“Relocated to Seattle?” I find myself sitting up a bit straighter, suddenly much more awake.
“It is where they’re headquartered.”
“Do you—” I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. “Want to? Leave, I mean? Move to the States?”
“If it were temporary, maybe? Or if I had a reason to stay, like a girl or friends, but I don’t. There’s nothing here for me except a job, and that’s just fucking depressing. I don’t want to move somewhere where I have no roots. I don’t want to be here all alone.”
“There’s a chance you could plant new roots,” I say, attempting to cheer him up. But it’s a struggle because I don’t want him to leave either. So much has changed in my life as it is, and yeah, I know that sounds selfish as fuck—but Rian is my best friend. “It could be a grand adventure.”
“Maybe.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “Nothing has been decided yet, so for now, I’ll just be traveling back and forth, carrying on as usual.”
“You must be racking up a load of airline miles at least.”
He snorts. “God knows when I’ll use them.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “But enough about me. I didn’t call you during my precious lunch hour to complain. We were supposed to catch up last night, and I bolloxed that.”
“I told you it’s fine.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m not sorry. I’ve been a shite best friend lately. I’ve barely talked to you in a month.”
“There’s not much to tell. Same shit, different day. Only in my world, it’s ‘same tour bus, different day.’”
“You should put that on a T-shirt. It could be the company’s Christmas gift.” I let out a laugh before he asks, “How’s this new group looking? Mostly silver-haired biddies as usual?”
“It’s a good group. Not nearly as gray as my usual stock,” I tell him. “So fucking chatty, though. I never thought I’d make it back to my hotel room, Rian. I didn’t even have time to change before the group dinner. Just had to roll in there in clothes I tossed on this morning.”
“Oh, there goes your tip money,” he jokes. “So, a bit of a variety, then?”
I’ll say…
“Don’t get me wrong,” I reiterate, gazing at the generic coastal painting on the wall across from me. “Most of them are still over sixty-five, but I’ve got a few younger ones thrown in to keep it interesting. There’s a group of middle-aged women enjoying a family-free holiday.”
“Oh, they must just love you.” He laughs.
I just roll my eyes and keep talking. “There’s another group of guys, although I think they’re a little younger. And then there’s this girl.”
“A girl?” I can hear the amusement in his tone. “Why do I feel like there’s a story there?”
“Because there is.” I exhale while leaning my head back. “And it’s a crazy one.”
I tell him about my run-in with Aisling and how I was nearly late this morning because I missed my alarm. I go on to explain that it cost me precious prep time, and I didn’t get to check everyone out.
“It’s really kind of creepy that you do that, you know?”
“It’s not creepy,” I argue. “It’s thorough. You wouldn’t believe how many times it has saved me from sticking my foot in my mouth.”
“All right, fair enough. I guess they don’t call you Five-Star Finn for nothing.”
“They don’t call me that. No one calls me that, you eejit.”
“Well, they should.”
I simply shake my head and carry on with my story until I reach the part where I walk into the pub.
“She’s in your tour group?” He bursts out laughing. “I should have seen that coming. Oh, god, that’s priceless.”
“It’s fucking bad luck is what it is,” I groan. “How does that even happen, Rian? You should have seen my bleeding face. I’m pretty sure the rest of the guests thought I’d gone mental or saw a ghost.”
“You kind of did,” he argues, his voice dripping with amusement. The bastard. “So, what did you do? Did you talk to her? Please tell me you asked her if she found what she was searching for. Fuck, that’s a great pickup line. I’ve got to jot that one down.”
A heavy pause fills the air as I try to find an answer.
“Oh my god, you’ve already bolloxed this, didn’t you?”
If by “bollox” he means, did I panic, avoid eye contact, and then piss her off so much that she ignored me for the rest of the night—then yes, I completely fucked this up.
“Bolloxed what?” I respond instead. “There’s nothing to bollox, Rian. She’s a guest on my tour. A paying customer for a company I happen to?—”
“Oh, come on, Finn. Live a little!”
I let out a frustrated sigh, questioning why I even brought this up. “She’ll be here for a week, and then she’ll get on a plane and return to her life in the States, and I’ll?—”
He lets out a frustrated sigh. “You know, even if?—”
“When,” I correct him.
“Right—when your da takes you back into the fold, it’s not like your life will be over. I know you feel like you have something to prove to him, but don’t let that dictate the rest of your life.”
“I just need to stay focused. I can’t have any distractions. Relationships are distractions.”
“And you would know because?—”
“I’ve dated…”
“Dating Brenna O’Leary for two months in sixth year doesn’t count.” Before I can protest, he adds, “And neither do one-night stands that just happen to last a week or two.”
“Fine, but it doesn’t change the fact that this girl is still leaving in six days.” I frown. “No, I’m just going to treat her like any other guest and get through this tour.”
“Well, it seems like you’ve got everything figured out.”
Did I, though?