In the beginning of the tour—when he’d still been conscious—I’d done my best to wipe that ‘everything sucks’ frown off his face, but once those eyelids started drooping, I’d left the surly teen for dead.
And I had half a mind to continue ignoring him, but that didn’t make good fiscal sense. All guides knew that the last few minutes of a sightseeing tour were the most important. It was our last chance to remind our passengers of what awesome human beings we were. In my case, in particular, customer gratitude made the difference between a couple of bucks being shoved into the tip jar and a down payment on my electricity bill. I hated to be so focused on money, but that was the way of the world… or at least the way of my world.
Yep, if I didn’t get a healthy amount of monetary appreciation today, I’d be turning my ride-share app on after work, and what do you know… working again. Wouldn’t that be fun? Ugh.
So mingling it was.
Crouching down to address the sleepy teen personally, I said. “Three more minutes, Chase, then you’re home free.”
Chase afforded me his first smile of the day, proving that somewhere deep inside, he had a beating heart … until I realized he was actually just looking down my shirt. The perv.
I narrowed my eyes on his complacent face and let him know in no uncertain terms that I had his pimply-faced number. Years of dealing with guys like him making lewd comments or gestures on my bus—even grabbing my body parts on occasion as I walked by their seats—had taught me a thing or two about perseverance. My go-to weapon of choice? Emasculation.
“In your dreams, little dude,” I whispered in his ear before standing up, patting his head like the childish man-boy he was, and walking away. That oughta do it. I smiled before moving on to a more agreeable man. This one was in his eighties and possessed an infectious giggle—but no other real meaningful communication skills to speak of.
“How’re you doing, Lloyd?” I raised my voice to accommodate his old age. “You hanging in there?”
“What’s that, hon?” He cupped his hand behind his ear.
His wife backhanded him in the chest and screamed, “She said, how are you doing!”
My ears shrieked from the sheer volume of her helpfulness.
He smiled up at me with glazed-over eyes. “Yes, it is.”
Fighting off a giggle, I nodded in agreement. Whatever he’d heard was fine by me. In fact, sometimes I wished I could go through life like Lloyd, with a wax log jammed into my ears preventing me from hearing the likes of the Codys of the world.
As I moved past the old man, he gently touched my wrist, his bushy brows furrowed in concentration. “If you want something you’ve never had,” he said, his voice crackling with wisdom. “You have to do something you’ve never done.”
I blinked back my surprise, looking around to see if anyone else had seen Zoltare turn on unexpectedly to foretell my future. But when no one else appeared alarmed, I had to question what I’d heard.
“What did you say, Lloyd?” I asked.
A contented smile settled back over his face. Lloyd was through prophesizing. That was okay because I didn’t need him to repeat it. His words were now circulating through my head on repeat. As if it were that easy! There were a lot of things I’d never had. But things I’d done? Well, now, that was a different story. Some of those things were good—real good—but too many of them were bad. Had Lloyd wasted his words on me, or did he give the same advice to everyone he met? I wanted to believe this was divine intervention, but the likelihood was old Lloyd had swiped that quote from aReader’s Digestmagazine forty years earlier.
So, why were his words still churning in my head, inspiring me? Lloyd was right. I had to try something new. This whole spinning my wheels thing was getting me nowhere, and I was too young to give up on my dreams—whatever they might be.Yes, Lloyd,I thought to myself.Yes to all of it.It was time to shake things up and go a little crazy… but not too much, because crazy and me had always been a recipe for disaster.
Committing his guidance to memory, I finished our bizarre conversation. “Thank you, Lloyd.”
He nodded. “Yes, it is, dear.”
Encounters like this were why I loved my work. Sure, it would’ve been nice to have a job that brought in more than minimum wage plus tips, but I doubted said fictional job would have sprinkled my life with the quirky people I met every single day. There really was nothing like connecting with people of all walks of life in an environment that unified us all. I mean, come on, if there was one thing humankind could agree on, it was that we loved celebrities. For a short snapshot in time, my passengers and I were all on the same team, all wanting the same thing—to feel special intheplace where dreams come true.
And since it was my job to transport these everyday folks into that world of beauty, glamour, and wealth, I had to look the part myself. There was no rolling out of bed, winding my long dark hair into a bun, and going makeup-free to this job. I took care to rock the canvas I’d been given, and every morning, I emerged from my modest apartment looking and feeling like I belonged. I was selling a dream, after all, and the more presentable and personable I was to my customers, the more generous they’d be when our shared adventure came to a close.
Vern brought the bus to a complete stop at the vista point. My passengers sprang to their feet as the cameras began to click. I took those few spare moments to discreetly check my phone. Oh goody. I had a message waiting for me from the president of Angel Line Tours—my sister Andrea. Try as I might, there was no holding back the roll of my irritated eyes. Not exactly the sisterly thing to do, but then, we weren’t really the sisterly types. Ever sincemymother stoleherfather fromhermother—and then had me—there had been a strain in our relationship; never mind that the entire affair had taken place over twenty-six years ago. Andrea proved slow to forgive.
I read the text.“You’re late!”
That was Andrea for you—never a ‘hey sis, how are you?’ or ‘love you, Jesse.’ No, my sister started every conversation with an exclamation point, putting me on the defense before the first stone was cast. After years of trying to make amends for my very existence, I’d stopped trying. She was never going to like me or even respect me, so what was the point? Now I just lowered myself to her level and let the negativity fly.
I quickly tapped out a reasonable reply.“No shit?”
“This is the part where you explain why you are rolling in twenty minutes late.”
“Right, so here’s the deal. The chocolate glazed donuts are back at Krispy Kreme—but only for two days. What was I supposed to do?”
She shot back a response in record time.“Not funny.”
