Chapter 13
ASHA
The group is already rowdy and more than a little stir-crazy when we park in front of the hotel in London, right next to the Tower of London.
It takes more patience than usual to get everyone checked in and to their rooms, and I start with the sober people.
I make sure they have recommendations for dinner, drinks, and free time options, and Callum shows them his lists, and then we bid them good night.
Everyone else wants to go drinking.
Callum gets a stubborn look on his face, and I know he’s going to throw keys at them and let them find their own way, so I grab the packet of keys before he can. Instead, I start negotiating with the drunk emotional terrorists.
I promise them if they can get their bags locked safely in their rooms, I’ll take them to a pub I know around the corner, which is the best pub in London. They somehow believe me, despite us not staying remotely near the heart of London nightlife.
“You’re agreeing to take them out?” Callum asks, incredulous.
“If I can get them to their rooms, half will take one look at that bed and not come out again. They’ll order room service and be nice and rested for the walking tour tomorrow. And the rest, I should probably take them somewhere they’re least likely to get in trouble. Here.”
“That’s a good idea.” He sounds impressed. Rude.
“Hey, I know things. I especially know things about the eighteen-to-thirty tour. My bread-and-butter.”
“I haven’t had to deal with drunken twenty-somethings in a long time. I don’t relish doing it again.”
“I’ll have you know, I haven’t lost someone since the tour we don’t speak of.”
“But—”
“If I was going to speak about that tour, I would point out that I can’t actually kidnap adults and make them make good choices.
I did what I could by blatantly lying to them to steer them to the most boring bars and about what time it was.
I was just as surprised as anyone when the cops knocked on my door. ”
“What—”
“But I’m not going to talk about it.” I wait a beat. “If I was going to say more about it, I would add that I got all the charges dropped, and no one spent more than a few hours in jail.”
“Oh, grand.”
“But don’t worry, that was when I was a baby tour leader. No cops since then.” I pat Callum on the arm, not as an excuse to feel his muscles, although it is quite the perk. I can’t help it that friendly motions can be construed as sexual if one party is about to melt into a pile of lust.
Me. I’m about to melt into a pile of lust. Which is why my fingers linger. I snatch my arm back when I notice the lingering and turn to take my own bags to my room.
“That’s not comforting,” Callum yells after me.
I wave at him. “Be in the lobby in fifteen minutes if you want to see how many people take me up on the offer.”
Jennifer stops me before I reach the stairs. “I need some laundry done.”
Already? We’ve only been through one city. This may be a record. “I can look up some laundromats or dry cleaners for you. The hotel probably does something as well, although I don’t know what they would charge for that.” I get my phone out.
“I don’t want to deal with figuring out all that, I’m on vacation! Could you just coordinate it?”
“Your laundry?”
“It would be such a help.”
I do hate doing my own laundry. So I get why they wouldn’t want to deal with it on vacation. “Sure. I’ll stop by your room to get it and take it down. They’ll probably charge the room and you can pay when you check out.”
“Great! You’re the best.”
Anything for the best vacation ever.
I drag my suitcase to my room and send out positive thoughts to the universe that the drunkest guests stay in their rooms so I can prove what a good tour guide I am to Callum.
I’m not distracted by the absolutely spectacular view I have of the Tower of London and the Tower Bridge, Stacey from the front desk having given me a stunning view, because she is the best, and understands how hard this job is.
I don’t know when Callum’s opinion started to matter to me. Maybe because it’s irritating when someone doubts my ability. But it doesn’t usually have this much of an effect on me. Rob never believes in me, and I don’t care about that tool.
And Callum is so grumpy, it shouldn’t matter what he thinks either. Because who can trust someone who doesn’t enjoy life, not even occasionally?
But he’s so damn smart. All those facts he holds behind that frown.
He’s a walking encyclopedia of all the dates and names and places I usually get mixed up when I’m giving a tour without my notecards handy, preferring to spend my precious brain space on the broad details of interesting stories instead.
It’s been kind of nice to let him tell the boring stuff and interrupt with the good parts intermittently. And to interrupt to make sure people have ice cream/water breaks and photo opportunities.
It’s not that I dislike any part of history, it’s just that some of it is less compelling to me than other parts. And I want to focus on the good bits, and not the bits that I personally find boring.
After giving myself a pep talk in the mirror, I stop by Jennifer’s room to get her laundry, and take it to the lobby, dropping it off at the front desk, which thankfully does have a laundry service.
So far, it’s only Callum and the lawyer ladies, so I exhale half of the breath I was holding, in relief.
But not everything yet, since the drunks—and I say that with the most affection—still have ten more minutes before we leave.
“What is that? Did you only bring enough clothes for two days?” Callum asks, eyebrow lifted judgmentally as I join the group.
“It’s Jennifer’s. She didn’t want to deal with it.”
His mouth opens in disbelief and I know he’s going to say it’s not our job, so I turn to talk to the group to avoid hearing it.
When the clock hits eight p.m., I smile and start herding the small group to the hotel doors.
“See. Told you it would work.” In case Callum didn’t see my prediction-based-on-experience come to fruition.
“Hmm.” Callum doesn’t look happy that I was right, even though more than half our tour is safely in their rooms, where they can only do minimal damage. I hope. Like I hope the universe doesn’t take that as a challenge.
“Are you coming with us?” I thought he would be here to watch me fail and then crawl into his comfortable bed while I direct drunk people around London.
He shrugs. “I have to eat.”
Ah. Just what every woman wants to hear. I am only coming with you because I need food as sustenance or I will cease to function.
Kevin and Thomas come out of the elevators just as I take one look back, like an amateur. I should have learned the lessons of Orpheus better, which I’m sure is that nothing good comes from looking back.
“I’m glad we didn’t miss you,” Kevin says. They’re both breathless because they ran from the elevator to meet the group, and I force a smile on my face.
“I’m so glad you won’t miss out on this pub!” I hold the door for them, and then Callum, who walks through with raised eyebrows.
“Okay. But this is still a much smaller group. So still a success, most would say,” I whisper to him.
“I’ve not said anything.”
“Your eyebrows did; they’re very expressive.” And judgmental.
“Hmm. Did they say that although you didn’t get many people, you did get the drunkest of tourists?”
I ignore him while I jog to the front of the group because he’s not wrong.
We don’t have a long walk from the hotel, which is the real reason this pub gets my “best of” award.
Especially since so many London pubs are owned by the same few corporate overlords anyway, so convenience carries a lot of weight for me when choosing, especially after a long day of traveling.
I get everyone settled, unable to stop mothering them, even though they’re adults and the mothering I’m doing is helping them get drinks. And hopefully some carbs in them at the same time, which is why I immediately order fries for the table.
If I order fries, they will be eaten. It’s one of the first things I learned as a baby tour guide.
Callum and I order actual dinner entrees, while everyone else is more concerned with the beers on tap and the special cocktails on offer. But I see some of them munching on those table fries, so I consider it a success and order some waters for the table, too.
Might as well go full mom.
The dedicated group drinks—and eats fries—while taking pictures with almost every decoration in this historic pub. I help by pointing out the best photo backgrounds and taking the photos for them, too. And even shoving the camera at Callum a few times when they want one with me.
He obliges with a roll of his eyes that is almost disguised in the low light of the pub.
I’m almost free (the other perk with this pub is that it closes at a nice, reasonable eleven o’clock) when I see a very unwelcome sight. “Oh, no.”
Callum picks up on my discomfort and his eyes follow mine to the entrance of the pub, where two very underage teenagers are walking into the room. Two underage teenagers who are on our tour.
“This feels like a family tour guide job.” I point at him. “Because all my tourists are legal and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do in this scenario,” I whisper at Callum.
“Don’t be looking at me. I leave it up to the parents to watch their children, and I’m not usually out late enough to be caught in a situation like this. Really, you should be working on telling passengers no, so start now.”
“I’ll start tomorrow. And you still have more experience with kids than me.” I lightly shove at him.
“Again, only when their parents are around. There’s very little for me to do aside from telling them history and glaring when they text during one of my speeches or wander off to take photos.”