We travel along St. James’s Park and then coming into vision I see the Gothic steeples of Westminster Abbey. I know the structure was built in the thirteenth century thanks to a required humanities class at Clarkson. I’m sure it’s the oldest building I’ve ever seen in my life. Beyond that is Big Ben standing next to the River Thames. I can’t help imagining Peter, Wendy and the Darling boys flying around it.
Brady lets out an undignified snort, which makes me laugh. I look down at him sleeping and it pulls me away from my sightseeing and lets me study his face without him knowing. Brady has opened so many doors for me, emotionally, intellectually even sexually. Especially sexually. The things I have seen and done because of him are next level, and even though he can make me crazy, and I don’t like the fact that he thinks the ends always justify the means, even if we aren’t a couple and never will be again, at least we get to share this experience. I’m grateful for that. Brady looks so innocent sleeping on my shoulder it makes me think that maybe I can find a way to trust him again.
Chapter 11
London
Brady
Fresh air rushes into the back seat as the car door opens. It takes me a second to remember where I am but as my eyes open, I realize I fell asleep with my head on Hayes’ shoulder. But the safe and comfortable feeling from my nap disappears when I remember I still haven’t told Hayes that we’re supposed to be a couple.
I look up and see three stories of imposing brick with ornate stone carvings around the door and pale, cream trim highlighting the arched windows. Mayfair is the first stop on our summer tour. It’s all about to get very real, or at least real behind the scenes. In front of the camera will be a carefully constructed fantasy with almost no relationship to reality. I may not be the biggest influencer out there, but I know that what counts is how things look, not how they are.
I turn my neck from side to side to stretch and notice a mysterious stain on the front of Hayes’ shirt. He thinks he’s only behind the scenes, but the For Us people expect to see us both looking camera-ready. I don’t want his first impression to include a remnant of the chicken teriyaki from the flight, so I rummage through my bag.
“Here,” I say before moving toward the open door. I hand him a paisley sapphire and persimmon gauzy scarf. “Put this around your neck and let it hang to cover…” I move my hand around the entire front of his body where the stain is. “This.”
“I’m behind the camera. What does it matter?” he asks, not taking the scarf.
“Hayes, just put it on. I want to make a good first impression. How would it seem if my production assistant looked like the service cart from the flight ran him over?” I wrap the scarf around his neck to cover the mess to the best of my ability.
We get out of the car and I tip the driver double, telling him it’s to pay for his daughter’s birthday party next week, which he told me about at the airport. A shimmering figure with a short, sleek cut showcasing the tightly coiled texture of her hair and wearing wide-black pants and a glittering jacket walks toward us. I recognize Aisha from our video chats. “Hello to you both. I hope you had a pleasant journey. Traffic is awful coming in from Heathrow, so we have your room ready for you.” She glides down the steps.
“Brady, so nice to finally meet you in person.” She shakes my hand formally. Aisha has been pleasant but formal in our meetings. Her words are crisp and efficient, but this is work, not an actual vacation.
She then turns to Hayes. “And this must be your boy…” She’s going to say boyfriend. I know it. I don’t want my cover blown so quickly, so I jump in.
“This is Hayes,” I say, delaying the inevitable. “Hayes, I’d like you to meet Aisha. She has been so fabulous to work with.” I squeeze out as much enthusiasm as I can, hoping it will soften her, but it doesn’t seem to have any impact.
“This place is amazing,” Hayes says.
“St. Sebastian’s is certainly one of my favorites,” Aisha says, looking around. “All of our hotels are repurposed buildings. This was a Victorian grammar school built in 1888.” She points to a block of carved stone near the entrance with the date. “The schoolyards there and there…” she gestures to the sides of the building, “…have been turned into an outdoor cafe and gardens.” Stone paths meander through casually placed tables separated by leafy green topiary. “But a little of that can go a long way. Our clientele likes things smart but understated.” Her words are more of a warning than an explanation.
Aisha walks us up the stairs and invites us to look around while she retrieves our keycards. We enter what must have been the assembly hall of the school. It’s been transformed into the lobby but retained some of the original details like the polished wood floors scuffed from years of students running late to class. On the wall they’ve hung vintage chalkboards with abstract drawings that remind me of Keith Haring. There’s a gift shop called “The Canteen” selling school-related souvenirs like pennants and up-cycled school uniforms.
I look over at Hayes to see his reaction. When we were dating and I tried to splurge on anything he scoffed and told me he didn’t need anything fancy, but I can tell he’s impressed by the clever details in the hotel.
“I have you in the Headmaster’s Suite, which is really the nicest accommodation in the entire place,” Aisha says, returning with our keycards. “I thought we would have a nibble and go over some details. I have a surprise for you in the dining room.” Hayes is on the other side of the room in front of a vintage poster of the periodic table, so I take a few steps and peek into the dining room.
I love surprises.
But not this one.
I can see a small poster of one of the images from our old account on a table. It’s from the night we camped in the mountains during our road trip. Hayes has his arm stretched in front of us and he’s wearing a Clarkson cap with a big toothy grin, an ombre of spring colors in the background. I thought I’d detest camping, but I loved feeling the cool night air on my nose as we snuggled in our sleeping bags. Hayes was more shocked than I was. His other arm is around me in the image and I’m smiling in a way that is more for myself than the camera. The memory is warm and fuzzy, but the feeling doesn’t last long because above the image are the words: “Brady and Hayes: The For Us Couple of the Summer! Follow our adventure. #CouplesGoals #SummerVibes. @ForUsResorts.” It’s cringe on so many levels.
I cannot let him see this before I’ve explained that we have to pretend to be a couple. Right now, he thinks he’s here to hold the camera, a human tripod, and not sexually – although he qualifies in that way certainly.
I panic and move quickly away from the dining room to make sure Hayes doesn’t go anywhere near it. My sudden motion alerts Aisha. “Is everything okay?”
I’m standing halfway between Aisha and Hayes with enough distance to leap in front of Hayes and block his entrance to the dining room if need be.
“Aisha, would you mind if I sent Hayes up to take a nap and refresh? He’s been traveling for a few days. I started off in New York, but he has come a much longer way. I can share any of the details with him later.” Hayes stifles a yawn as he walks over to us.
“That’s fine,” Aisha says with a forced smile. I don’t believe she thinks it’s fine at all, but still it allows Hayes to make a much-needed exit.
“Are you sure?” Hayes asks, but the thought of a nap must have done something to his brain because the yawn now escapes.
“I’ve got this. Why don’t you go up and maybe take a nap and a shower? We can head out and grab some content once I come up.” Hayes’ best manners are on display. He thanks me and tells Aisha how nice it was to meet her and that he’s looking forward to working on the project. Then he walks toward the elevator.
