Page 35 of Only One Tour Bus

I lean into the room to yell at the beds. “Thomas, I need you to acknowledge me in some way.”

He raises his arm at me from the bed and then leans over to vomit into the trash can someone had the foresight to put next to the bed. I suppose they are professionals at this.

“Grand. We’re having dinner at an Indian restaurant tonight as part of the tour. Here’s the address and time if you want to join. And clean that up before you leave.” I write it out as fast as I can and shove it at Kevin, the smell of the room moving toward me like a solid mass.

Back in the lobby, Asha is telling some story that has everyone laughing around her. She finishes up when she sees me, and then rushes to meet me away from the group.

“They’re fine, but hungover. They must have been massively pissed last night. They’re going to have a lie-in.”

“Good. Well, not that they’re in pain, but that they’re in the room and conscious. Now we can enjoy royal London!” She says the last part louder, and for the benefit for the rest of the group, who don’t look happy at the delay.

The grumbling doesn’t stop when we usher them onto the bus, and I get it. I wouldn’t be happy if the vacation I paid for was interrupted by two eejits who don’t know their limits. There’s nothing we can say to make it better, so we ignore the complaints and hope palaces assuage them.

“Maybe I should stay back, too.” Christina looks longingly at the hotel.

Asha pauses, looking torn at the prospect of confrontation. “Oh, if that’s what you want…”

I clear my throat and look meaningfully at Christina. This is the sort of thing Asha is supposed to be working on.

“No, you know what? You should stay. Unless you feel really, really bad, of course. But I have aspirin! I also know the best places to puke in London, if it comes to that. I know that later, you won’t remember how bad you felt, just that you saw some awesome things.” Asha rummages through her backpack for the acetaminophen. “I once went to Egypt in the summer, which everyone told me was not the best time to do that, and it was so hot. But all I remember is how amazing the pyramids were and how it was nice that it wasn’t crowded. And all the jokes we made about the wrath of the sun god.” She holds up the bottle to Christina.

Christina takes it with a sigh. “Okay. I’m coming.” She trudges up the bus steps and Asha throws me a triumphant smile. I roll my eyes in response. She still has no backbone, as she was originally going to let the tourist stay. Not that I expect sunshine to be particularly rigid.

“Welcome to London-town!” Asha puts on what is the single worst English accent I’ve ever heard in my life, and I feel for the group who has to experience it with me. It’s even worse than her Irish one and dear god, she’s going to do this in every country we go to, isn’t she? Butchering language left and right. But a quick look shows the group is laughing, enjoying her absurdity. Well, if it works…

“On this tour there’s going to be royalty, horses, big hats, big houses, and more scandal than even the modern tabloids could dream of. And it’s all found in history books.”

She’s back to speaking with an American accent. Thank Christ.

I take up the introduction to the tour, as we discussed, and Asha will jump in later. “London has been inhabited since 4000 BCE⁠—”

“Not this again,” she whispers under her breath. Okay, she wasn’t supposed to jump in this early. “London has so much greenery that per United Nations definitions, it counts as a forest.” Asha has no concern for my carefully planned speech. Even though we tried to discuss the tour so we wouldn’t run into this exact problem.

We continue the tour, and I manage to teach some history while Asha tells the group about sex, lies, and betrayal. It’s exhausting, but the back and forth makes the group pay more attention than they would otherwise.

I can admit that, to myself if not out loud.

I’m less excited about all the photo stops we do, which are longer and more frequent than I usually give, but the tourists are happy, and it may make them pay attention more during the tour, since they know she’ll point out the good spots and they don’t have to worry about it.

This may be something to consider for future tours.

“And now, free time! Let me know if you need any recommendations!” she says.

“I have the sheets for things to do in London, for anyone that didn’t get to see them yesterday,” I say.

The group swarms me for the papers as Asha patiently takes last-minute photos and answers questions, even though I already gave them all the information they need. I could leave now, since my job is technically over. But Asha is still here, and I’m lingering.

“See you all for dinner! It’s at the best Indian restaurant ever!” She waves until our groups is fully dispersed, then turns to me with a look of terrifying determination. “How do you feel about picnics?”

CHAPTER 15

ASHA

“Come again?” Callum asks.

That accent should be illegal, for the effect it has on me. It’s unfair. All lyrical, like he’s reciting a love poem to me even though he’s staring in confusion. Or sometimes in disgust at my advocating of pictures.

“A picnic. I want to see the ruins of St. Dunstan-in-the-East, and I heard it’s a nice spot for a meal. Unless you already have plans?” Considering I’m still trying to get over the embarrassment of hugging him last night when he wanted to pick something up from the floor, a level of embarrassment far above waving at someone who was waving at the person behind me but below kissing him thinking he was going in for one, I don’t know if I want him to have plans or not.