Picturing Perfect (38 page)

"How was your flight?" She asked, paging through what looks like a training manual. Her office is bright green with various Jordan Tours posters with smiling travelers splashed around the walls.

"Good. Watched a couple of movies," I replied with a non-committal shrug. What I failed to mention is that the movies were god-awful. Seriously, they were years old and completely ridiculous. A plane full of grown-ups watching some stupid-ass movie about teenagers rebelling against their parents. Insert eye roll here. My ticket was freaking expensive. The least the airline could've done was give me a movie with a sexy man like Henry Cavill. Is that too much to ask?

Michelle nodded and I could tell was already moving on to the next order of business.

"Okay, so your training will begin tomorrow. You're going to shadow another tour guide on his tour."

"His?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"No, no…just making sure I heard you right."

I haven't dated in a while…and I know, I
know
that I shouldn't be looking to date my co-workers. But, I'm not gonna lie. I'm curious. I've always dreamed of running away with a hot Italian or French man. One who's accent makes my toes curl with beautiful anticipation.

"His name is Thomas Mashburn and he's one of our best. He'll teach you everything you need to know."

"Sounds good," I said with a decisive nod. I didn't want her to think I was a diva or something. And the name Thomas doesn't exactly sound like someone exotic…so, it'll be easier to focus on the job.

"When you return from your tour, we'll have an apartment ready for you. I must warn you, Jordan rents very small flats for their guides since we're hardly there…usually on the road."

"Makes sense to me. I don't need a huge place." I said with a large smile. Okay, that may have been overkill. But, I was starting to feel really guilty about my Jersey Shore thoughts and wanted to backpedal a little bit.

Michelle handed the large binder to me and grabbed another for herself. She reviewed all of the rules and regulations for Jordan Tours employees before sending me on my way. As instructed, I returned to my hotel and prepared for my first training session, which will last exactly fifteen days starting bright and early tomorrow morning. After grabbing dinner at a local pub, I settled in for the night.

Settling in to my small, drafty hotel room, I had to turn on the TV just to distract myself from the noisy hallways. The pubs must have just closed and tourists are heading back to their rooms for the night. Pulling the scratchy quilt up to my chin, I laid my head on the lumpy pillow. Daydreaming of what this year would bring. And feeling like I was home…for the very first time.

I was
such
a fucking idiot yesterday. Like big time. Seriously, I'm not even kidding.

We were traveling through Germany and Thom was giving a little shbeel about Munich, the latest stop on our "European Decadence" tour. It's the beginning of our two week jaunt and the people are just getting to know one another on the bus. They've slowly been making small-talk and discovering where everyone is from. We have South Africans, Americans, Canadians and Australians on this trip. Thom is really cool and I guess I'm sort of attracted to him, but that's neither here nor there. Okay,
maybe
it is. But, that comes later.

The point is, this afternoon, as we were approaching Munich, Thom was giving his speech about the Hofbrahaus. How it's one of the most famous restaurants in Germany, how Hitler used to have Nazi meetings there, how the wait staff can't be hired unless they can "fist" five beer steins at a time. When he said "fist" the beersteins, I was drinking from my water bottle. Hearing the word "fist" being used as a verb made my mind go to a really dirty place, and I spit my water on the seat in front of me. Thom stared at me, his mouth agape, holding the microphone near his face. One of the Americans started to chuckle under his breath and Thom, who is a really pale guy, turned bright red, just like a tomato.

He glared at me, laughed nervously, and went right back to his speech. I mouthed the words, "I'm sorry" as he continued, but I could tell I was in for it. He was going to ream my ass out. So fucking unprofessional,
so
fucking stupid.

When we arrived at the hotel, we both sat in our seats, allowing all of our tour members to leave the bus first to gather their luggage from the undercarriage compartment. I prepared myself for the tongue lashing of the freaking century.

Thom shook his head, raised his sandy brown eyebrow and simply asked, "Are you fucking kidding me?" His Australian accent was thick with sarcasm.

"I'm sorry, seriously I am." My brows knitted as I clenched my teeth. "I'm such a moron."

He threw his head back in laughter, "You almost made me lose my shit in front of the entire group."

"I know," I said, really confused at his lack of anger.

"Don't do it again. But, it was fucking hilarious." He paused and then smirked, like a such a player. "Fisting? You've got a sick little mind."

"Oh, thank God. I thought you were pissed." I let out a huge sigh and wiped my brow.

I really couldn't handle the idea of being fired while still in training. I'd look like the biggest idiot crawling back to the states and explaining this to my family.

"I mean, I kind of am. You threw me off my game. But, you're a riot, Auden." He grabbed his backpack, placed his Ray Bans on the bridge of his nose and made his way off the bus. I watched as his lean, muscular legs flexed while he walked down the steps. I had to stop myself from having dirty thoughts about my trainer. After all, that wouldn't look good to Michelle. She'd probably be pissed and then we'd never be paired up to work with one another in the future. And I wanted to keep my options open.

After checking in to the hotel, we met our tour group at the famous Hofbrahaus. I visited this place only once before, when I was really young. I had completely forgotten about the beer steins and how people compete to see how many they can hold in their hand at one time. But, as soon as we sat down in our long wooden booth and I took in the smells, the people and the decor of this famous restaurant, I remembered my brother, trying so hard to impress our Dad, when we were kids.

Jason had predicted that he could handle three steins. My Dad wasn't so sure. Our waitress obliged and brought three of the large, clunky glasses to the table. Jason swallowed hard and took a couple of deep breaths, looking at the foamy liquid in each of the large glass steins. He wrapped his hands through the handle of one, and then the other and finally the third. His face turned red as he attempted to lift those glasses off the table. But nothing happened. Not. A. Thing. Those glasses were glued to our table.

"Try two, son." My dad encouraged him.

Jason nodded, pressed his glasses higher on his nose and released his hand from one of the steins. Biting his lower teeth into his top lip, he lifted the glasses once again. This time, he was able to get them about an inch off the table. And even though, we all knew the point of this exercise was to actually be able to carry the steins around the restaurant, we erupted in applause just the same. Jason's always been a smart guy, even as a boy. So he knew we were celebrating a mediocre achievement. But, he was polite and thanked the waitress as she patted his head and took the steins into her right hand, as if they weighed next to nothing. He watched her in awe as she walked away.

No one else at the table tried to lift the steins. Not my dad, not Maya, not my Mom. That was Jason's moment and no one wanted to embarrass him. My normal bratty self would've tried it, but for some reason, I knew it was time to back down. He was embarrassed…which didn't happen often. So, I clapped along with everyone else, secretly wishing I could've tried lifting those huge glasses more than an inch off the rough wooden table.

Jason is one of those guys who lives life how he wants to—you can take him or leave him. I'm kinda the same way, most of the time. Unfortunately, the difference is that Jason is someone whom everyone adores and understands. Me, not so much. People don't always get me right away…and some never do. When I find people who understand me, I stick with them. I'm fiercely loyal. And so far, there haven't been many people who have fit into that category. There's my best friend Hadley…and, well, that's about it. She's the only one who really gets me, really knows me and stands by me one hundred percent. She's like a sister…almost more than my actual sister Maya, at times. Isn't that depressing?

Thom nudged my arm as our waitress smiled down at me, ready to take my drink order. I ordered a beer, just like everyone else at the table. She thanked us and walked away with her notepad. I glanced down the table at the huge party of sixteen that was our long wooden table. How on earth would she deliver all that beer?

My question was answered just a few minutes later as a small troop of waitresses arrived, each fisting four steins of beer. They placed them in front of each person at the table, and Thom lead everyone in the proper toast.

"Prost," we all said loudly as our glasses clinked at the center of the table. We each took a sip of the cold, amber liquid.

"Damn, that's good." I said. Normally I hated beer. I suffered through drinking keg beer in college because, let's face it, you weren't going to find a French Martini at a frat party on campus. So, I drank the swill, knowing when I grew past my college days, I'd indulge in whatever alcoholic beverage I liked. But, when in Rome…do as the Romans do.

And When in Munich, you drink beer. Lots of beer. And thank the lord, this beer was delicious. Smooth, way too smooth. Thank God we're allowed to drink with the members of our tour or I'd be in a lot of trouble with this job. A hell of a lot of trouble.

After ordering our dinners, most of us were ready for another round of beer. And the guys were ready to see how many steins they could fist.

"Oy," Pete, a dark haired Australian man yelled from the other side of the table. "I reckon Miss Auden, here, must drink every time someone says the word fist."

His wife Rhiannon covered her mouth in laughter as she and Pete clinked their glasses. I opened my mouth to object, but Thom beat me to the punch. He stood, shaking his head from side to side and I breathed a sigh of relief. With this group, I would be in big trouble. They were already having a lot of fun at my expense. If I had to drink every time one of them said that word, they'd have to carry me out of the restaurant.

"Pete, Pete, Pete," Thom said, holding his fresh stein of beer with one hand as he waved the other from side to side. The table grew silent and almost tense as we prepared for Thom to put Pete in his place. He raised his stein in the air and said, "You're a bloody genius, mate. That's the best idea I've heard all day!"

Traitor.
I should've known he'd turn on me.

"Wait a minute, don't I have a say in this?" I practically screeched. I hate when people try to make decisions for me. It pisses me off.

"Nope," Thomas grinned, taking a sip.

"All right, I'll make you a deal. I'll take a sip any time one of you losers says fist."

The redhead across the table spit out a sip of her beer.
Nice
.

"Prost!" Thom said as he raised his glass in the air.

"Wait, I wasn't finished! I'll do it, if
you
can fist five steins in one hand. Five full steins."

Thom raised an eyebrow and scrunched his lips together, pondering the deal.

"Better yet," he said, "I'll let you out of this if you can fist three."

"Are you scared you can't do it?" I pushed him further, standing and placing my hands on my hips, cocking my head to the side. The guys at the table chuckled as the women "oooohed" knowing I was calling Thom out.

"That's not it, lovely. I know I can do it. Not much fun in that. But, I
don't know
if you can lift three. In fact, I'm willing to bet that you can't lift more than two."

"Fine, you're on. I'll lift those three steins, and when I do, I don't have to drink."

"Deal," he said, holding out his hand.

"I wasn't finished," I said, shaking my finger at him, "But, if
you can't handle
five steins, then
you
have to drink every time that word is said. And I will make sure it's said…a lot. So choose wisely."

His eyes widened at my challenge and his pale cheeks turned pink again. We'd only known each other for a few days. He didn't know the real Auden yet. But, he was about to. She was finally ready to come out and play.

"Let's do this," Thom said.

Three guys at the table immediately offered up their steins. I bounced around quickly like Rocky Balboa, shaking my head from side to side.

"You've got this, girl," Rhiannon yelled from the other end of the table, her dark brown curls all tied up in a loose bun. I gave her a cocky wink and pointed my finger at her. The first beer was getting into my system and I was ready to do this. If my brother could lift two when we were kids, of course I could lift three.

I cracked my knuckles together and gripped the cold, clear handles.