Page 22 of Only One Tour Bus

“Nothing happened. It’s fine. The bus has all the parts it came out here with. So do the passengers. It’s a win.”

Callum doesn’t press, since no one has gotten into a physical fight.

Back at the hotel, I make sure everyone has places they can go for dinner before getting an egg-salad sandwich from around the corner. Callum disappeared before the last tourist left, so I guess we won’t be having any more intimate meals together anytime soon.

That’s fine. We’re not on this trip together as tourists. Not even friends, really. Just coworkers.

And I have to put more history in these tours so Rob doesn’t fire me for showing people too good a time.

Which is an absurd crime to be charged with.

CHAPTER 10

CALLUM

Today is not going to be a good day.

There are a few days that are especially rough on tour, like the last day, which is usually just a collection of exhausted zombies trying to get to an airport for the promise of their own beds, grumpy and mad at anything that causes them the slightest inconvenience. And the second to last day, which involves us touring with those just as exhausted zombies, trying to squeeze some more learning and culture in when people are tired and hot, since we end in Rome a lot.

As the first long coach drive, today comes somewhere under those on the list. Everyone is excited after their first few days on vacation and from the good time they had in Edinburgh. And then we put them in a coach for eight hours. We do have a stop halfway to see the ruins of Fountains Abbey, but that’s still four hours away.

It’s going to be a long day with people who want to be exploring but who have to sit in a bus for what amounts to an entire workday.

At least there are tablets and phones to keep people entertained now. I can’t imagine doing this job without that convenience. I’ve heard horror stories of veteran tour leaders having to invent games and have sing-alongs for those long rides.

I shudder at the thought.

And the phones certainly make the tourists getting lost harder. Not impossible, because service isn’t great everywhere and some don’t have any service in Europe, but it’s at least harder.

“It’s a beautiful Scottish day for a drive!” a voice sings behind me. Actually sings.

I turn, noting Asha’s hair is blowing in a nonexistent breeze with no sign of a fan, like she’s the main character of a romance film. Then again, she’s walking so quickly toward me, it may just be momentum.

“No, it’s not. It’s never a good day to drive the length of the entire country. It’s too long.” But necessary for this tour.

“The Irish and British are hilarious with what you consider long distances. I once drove from San Diego to San Francisco to see a museum exhibition, and I regretted nothing. And not only is that about how far we’re going, but California traffic made that ride a much longer journey than today will be.”

“Americans.”

“Yeah. We have our moments.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Undoubtedly. And you would be right to say that for myriad reasons. But I’ve chosen to take it in a positive manner.”

She’s like a person in one of those giant plastic balls that roll down hills. Everything bounces off their obnoxious plastic shield, and she just rolls right along, happy as a clam.

An oblivious, perky, naive clam.

I try to bring us back to business. “Laura’s parked and ready.”

“Ah, but is she caffeinated?”

“Pardon?”

Asha holds up both hands. “Laura hates early mornings so she’s grumpy and drives fifteen under the speed limit until we get some coffee in her. She always forgets how much she needs it, so we go slow until the first stop. Then she’ll be going the speed limit but still grumpy because of the quality of gas station coffee.”

“And how is this our problem? Shouldn’t she just remember to get the coffee before she gets the bus?”