Page 29 of Twist of Fate
I tried tuning them out after that.
Because, if I didn’t, I’d be unemployed by now. Or possibly in jail.
Not only were these gobshites probably ten years her senior, but they were acting like she was a foregone conclusion. Just another conquest.
And now, I have to sit here at the front of the bus while the guy who supposedly “won” their pathetic little pissing contest attempts to entice her into his bed. I glance back and quickly try to see what her mam is doing. She’s got her nose buried in a book. Aisling laughs again. Deidre smiles.
I let out a sigh that’s edging close to a growl.
It’s not your problem.
Not.Laugh.Your.Laugh.Problem.
Is this guy a fucking comedian? No one isthatfunny.
I do something I rarely do while on tour: I pop in my earbuds, effectively cutting myself off from everyone and everything until we return to the hotel. When Collin brings the bus to a stop, I nearly leap off the damn thing. I’m so eager to be finished for the day that I hardly feel any joy as those euros start piling up in my hand.
Some folks like to tip daily, while others prefer to wait until the end, like one big grand finale. I’m not picky; I take what I’m offered, and even though I’m fucking exhausted, I do it with a grateful smile on my face because I’m not an arsehole.
After I address any lingering questions about tomorrow and say good night to everyone, I make my way to my room, trying to avoid any thoughts of Aisling and Mr. Chuckle.
Is she going out with him tonight?
Is her mam okay with that?
Stellar job at that avoiding, Finn.
I key into my room and drop my phone and wallet on the table. I take one look at the neatly made bed and know that if I so much as lie down for even a moment, I’m done for the day.
And I still have shit to do.
So, rather than resting, I gather all the stray clothes, shoes, and anything else that may be lying around and pack as much as I can, leaving out only what I need for tonight and tomorrow morning. I’ve learned, after a couple of years living in hotel rooms, that being organized makes the difference between a rushed morning and a pleasant one.
Once that’s sorted, I briefly consider room service. Heading back down to the hotel restaurant feels like an absolute chore, but I don’t want to waste my own money just to have someone walk my food upstairs.
My meals while on tour are expensed, as are all tour guides. However, while our daily limit is fairly generous, we aren’t permitted to order room service. I’ve never really figured out if it’s to avoid paying the excessive fees they add on or just to prevent us from hiding out in our rooms every night.
Maybe if I had actually attended some of those meetings I was supposed to go to…
With an exasperated huff, I stuff my phone and wallet back into my jeans pocket and head downstairs. Again. It’s early enough that I doubt I’ll run into any guests while I’m down there. Most of the time, when they choose to have an early meal, they head into town for it, opting to explore the small village of Dún Laoghaire that surrounds us.
I don’t blame them. There are some fantastic restaurants around here.
I should know. It’s where I grew up.
The stark reminder that my childhood home is only a few miles away has me thinking back to the last time I saw my parents. After my dad enforced his “punishment,” I vowed I’d never go back there.
So far, I’ve kept my word.
Unfortunately, my mam seems to be an innocent bystander in this conflict with my father. When I cut ties with him, I also ended my contact with her. No holidays or birthdays. A few phone calls here and there, but in a way, I am punishing her, too.
I step into the hotel dining room, and before I can even make eye contact with the hostess, I see her.
Aisling.
I’m starting to wonder if I could pick her out of a crowd. Whenever she’s near, I can’t seem to look away.
She’s sitting at a small table near the back with her mother.
