Unwanted Stars (4 page)

So...time for an update. Tom is an idiot, Michelle is probably regretting her decision to hire me, and I had to deal with tour members hitting on me after we got back to London.

"The tour's over, Auden. You wanna come back to my hotel?" asked Douglas, one of the Canadians from the trip. The one who kept making eyes at me after the night at the Hofbräuhaus.

"Yeah, no…um, I can think of about a million things I'd rather do. And no, I won't be participating in any fisting!" is what I wanted to say, but I had to maintain my professionalism and act as if I didn't want to shove his balls down his throat.

What was my actual response? "Oh man, sorry. Jordan Tours has so many policies about these things. Even after the tour is over it's still not allowed." Total lie. Once the tours were over, it's fair game, but I had no interest in touching the dark-haired monstrosity with pimples all over his cheeks. Is that mean? Yeah, I guess so. But still—he grossed me out.

Tom hadn't spoken to me since the night we slept together. I'd been trying to figure out why—was he into me for real? Was he embarrassed that he didn't ahem, last very long? Whatever it was, he needed to get over himself. I missed the laidback Tom who I could joke with, flirt with, and laugh at. I didn't like the new Tom who barely made eye contact with me and acted like I no longer existed.

Yesterday when we got back to London, I spent the day moving into my new flat. Michelle wasn't kidding when she said this place was small. It’s like one of those shoebox dioramas we made as kids. That's where I "live" now. It doesn't bother me. I mean, I didn't pack a lot of things when I moved here, and I'll spend most of my time living out of a suitcase as we travel the continent. Even though it's small, I like it. I really do. It has a slight smell of cinnamon to it, which is actually a smell I can tolerate. I think my neighbor has a thing for burning scented candles. As long as she doesn't burn the building down, it's fine.

This morning, I went for a run to clear my head and prepare myself to leave again in a couple of days. Secretly, I was hoping Tom wouldn't be my supervisor again, but I wasn't counting on a stroke of good luck.

Sweat dripped down my back as I walked into the apartment, stripping off my scarf and ear warming headband. I had a message waiting for me in my flat...from Michelle. "Hello, Auden. Please stop by my office this afternoon to discuss the tour."

Cryptic much? Which tour was she talking about? The one that just finished? The next one on my schedule? What the hell? Immediately, I dialed Tom's cell.

"Oi," he answered. I did love that accent even though I wanted to punch him square in his sexy little jaw.

"What the hell did you say to Michelle?"

Silence.

"Tom!"

"It's not a big deal. I didn't tell her about Germany."

"You swear? I don't wanna get fired over this!" I said, slamming my carton of orange juice on my tiny countertop as I opened up the cabinet to retrieve a glass. The hinge squeaked as it opened and I could barely hear Tom reassuring me that he didn't say a word to my boss.

"Then why does she want to see me? What
did
you tell her?"

"Nothing, really. She asked if you were a good fit for Jordan."

"And?"

"And I said I wasn't sure."

"Are you kidding me? Tom! Why would you say that? I worked my ass off last week!"

"I know, I know. I just—"

"This is about Germany. You're punishing me."

"No, I'm not." His voice was gruff.

"Then what? What did I do wrong?" I snapped.

"Look, I was irritated. I saw you talking to that Canadian guy the night we got back. And I didn't like it."

"Douglas? Are you serious? He's gross!"

"I know! But you were flirting with him."

"
Ex-cuse
me? I was
not!
I was letting him down easy." I shuddered at the thought of actually flirting with that man.

"That's not what it looked like to me," Tom said. He was jealous. I could hear it in his voice. Dickhead.

"I thought what happened was just a one-night thing," I said. "Why would you be jealous? You haven't even spoken to me!"

"You practically kicked me out of your room, Auden. I was into you and clearly you didn't feel the same. I've never done that before. I risked my job for you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"It's fine. I mean, whatever. I'm over it."

Silence.

"So, what did you tell Michelle?"

He sighed into the phone and I rolled my eyes in response. I really wanted to kick his ass.

"I told her your professionalism could use some work. I mean, c'mon—the water bottle incident, making bets in front of the tour members—"

"Hold the fuck on. You made that bet
with me
. Did you tell her that?"

Silence once again.

"Yeah," I said, "I didn't think so."

My cheeks were growing hot with anger and frustration. I had no intention of flying back to America with my tail tucked between my legs. I'd wait tables, tend bar, whatever I needed to do to avoid that humiliation. No way was I going to give Charlotte and Stanford Kelly the satisfaction.

"I'll talk to her," he offered, but I didn't believe him. His voice was too impassive, too indifferent. I was no longer his concern.

"Too little, too late. She wants to see me this afternoon."

"Fuck. I'm sorry. Let me see what I can do, alright?"

"No, it's fine. I'll handle it," I said before slamming the phone down on the counter and downing a glass of orange juice.

"Gross," I said, wiping my mouth. "How do you fuck up orange juice?"

Everything in London seemed to taste different than what I was used to. I had a cheeseburger at McDonald's the day before and it was the greasiest thing I'd ever put to my lips. I threw it away after two bites. This orange juice was bland, and the cream cheese I'd gotten at the local convenience store was almost rubbery. The upside? I probably wouldn’t gain any weight while I was here. That was definitely something to celebrate.

I wanted to call Hadley so badly, but it was the middle of the night back in Chicago. I couldn't do that to her. Her son, Marty, kept her busy enough. In a few hours, he'd be up and they'd be starting their day. Thinking of that little guy made me smile, no matter what was happening in my life. No matter the drama, no matter how badly things sucked sometimes, all I had to do was think of that little face. Sixteen months old and the kid had me wrapped around his little finger. Those hazel eyes and dark floppy hair made him a spitting image of Hadley's ex, and his father, Tucker Montgomery. But his personality? That was all his own. He's a fantastic combination of Had and my brother.

Jason and Hadley had been engaged since Marty's first birthday. They finally set the date, and I had plenty of time to request days off—if I still had a job, that is. I'm the maid of honor, so it's pretty important that I be there.

Yesterday, when I spoke to Hadley, I warned her that I wouldn't be able to plan her shower. I really thought she'd be upset. I mean, seriously, if it was my wedding shower, I'd want her there. I'd need her there, and I wouldn't be able to hide it. But she's different. She's level-headed and sweet. Always taking care of me and everyone else in her life. So, what was her response?

"The day you told me about this job, I knew that wasn't in the cards. Don't you worry about a thing."

Isn't she incredible? Sometimes I wondered how I got so lucky to have her stick by me all these years. Am I a terrible best friend? I didn’t think so—and obviously Had didn’t either. But still, when it came down to it, she was a far better human being than I was. And my brother was lucky to have her. The fact that my best friend would be my sister-in-law later this year was incredible. Just the thought of her officially being a part of my family made me giddy. And that little boy being my nephew? I couldn’t imagine anything better.

So, a few hours later, I walked into Michelle's office. She greeted me with a half-smile and my stomach did a flip.
Shit.

Please don't fire me. Please don't fire me. Please don't fire me.

"Have a seat." Michelle pushed her heavy black hair behind her shoulder, sitting in her armchair. The clock on her desk was bulky—way too big for her desk, but it was beautiful. Wrought iron with an ivory face. The second hand's tick-tick-tick was all I could hear in the small room.

"So," she said, narrowing her eyes at me, holding a pen in front of her face with both hands. She was trying to intimidate me. And it was working. "How would
you
say your first tour went?"

"Uh..." I cleared my throat, which felt scratchy and dry. "I thought it went well. Tom let me help out as much as possible. The tour members were really nice…"

"And you, how did
you
do?"

"It was my first time out there, but I thought I did well."
What the hell did she want me to say?

"
Listen, Auden...Jordan Tours has been around for almost twenty-five years. We're extremely selective when it comes to new hires."

Shit. Here it comes.

"Tom seemed hesitant to say how you did. And that's concerning. Tells me he has something to hide."

I bit my lip.
Shit, shit, shit.

"But, he wouldn't give me any specific examples of misconduct. So, I'm going to give you another shot."

The largest sigh of relief escaped my mouth. I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath.

"I'm switching you to Anabelle. She's not as experienced as Tom, but she's a very talented guide, and if she has an issue with you, she'll let me know
why."

"
Thank you...so much. I won't disappoint you again. I'll speak with Tom to see what I can do to improve.
And
I'll do whatever is necessary to show you that I can do this." (I can be a good liar when necessary. I wasn't going to talk to that shithead. I was free of him, thank god.)

Michelle nodded, her eyes narrowed as she bit her bottom lip. Did she suspect something happened between Tom and I?

She placed reading glasses on the bridge of her nose as she turned to her laptop.

"Anabelle's next tour starts in two days. It's a long one. Three and a half weeks."

"I can handle it," I said with a strong nod. Maybe I was trying a little too hard, but I didn't care. I was getting another chance and I was relieved. I just hoped Anabelle wasn't a bitch.