Page 5 of Twist of Fate
The old Finn didn’t care about any of that and would, of course, only be seen at the trendiest, most exclusive places in the city.
Yeah, old Finn was kind of an arse.
Tonight, Rian and I had planned on going to a pub near Trinity, but it’s always a popular spot for alumni and students.
I don’t want to be around anything or anyone familiar tonight.
There isn’t a street or corner of Dublin that doesn’t feel familiar anymore, not after living here for so long. But it is large enough that I can still pretend to have some anonymity.
Or try to.
Walking past the college, tourists take photos of the limestone buildings, now only accessible to students. The gates will reopen in the morning, and the lines will queue so visitors can shuffle in to get a peek at a single page of the twelve-hundred-year-old book.
A single page, and you never know which one it will be.
TheBook of Kellsis Dublin’s version of theMona Lisa.
Overhyped and underwhelming.
In a city this large and ancient, there are far more interesting things to discover with fewer crowds and an even cheaper price tag.
Christ, I really do sound like a tour guide.
I inwardly groan as I cross the street. A Canadian couple stops me at the corner and asks for directions to Temple Bar.
I don’t bother pointing out there are better pubs.
They’ll just ignore me and go there anyway.
When I first started working as a guide for O’Connell Tours, I had a mentor. His name was Seamus, and he was a retired history teacher from Kerry. He liked working for O’Connell because it allowed him to travel and share his love of history. This is a fairly common trait among most tour guides. I am the youngest by a few decades.
After a few days shadowing Seamus and seeing how he interacted with his guests, it didn’t take long for my youth and stubbornness to rear its ugly head. I was convinced I could not only do the job in my sleep, but I could do a far better job than Seamus.
It didn’t take long to realize just how wrong I was.
On my first solo trip, we were driving down the streets of Dublin, and a few people asked what they should visit during their free time. I promptly got on the microphone and told them what they shouldn’t visit—basically all the major spots—Dublin Castle, Book of Kells, and Temple Bar. Even the Guinness tour. I watched as all their faces fell one by one. I then gave them a list of some of my favorite spots—the Chester Beatty Library, St. Audoen’s Church, and my favorite parks throughout the city.
I called Seamus up that first night and explained what I’d done, and he just laughed, his old, rough voice filling my ear. “For some of these people, this is their one and only visit to Ireland. It may just be another day in the city for you, Dub, but for them, it’s a dream come true.”
Dub.He loved calling me that. Did he think, after living here my whole life, that he was the first one?
“So I’m crushing their dreams?” I scoffed as I sat alone in the cramped hotel room.
“A bit, lad, yeah. It’s their holiday.”
“All right, I understand. Leave them be.”
“Hold on to your suggestions, though. You’re always gonna have the adventurous ones or the repeat travelers, and those—those are the ones you want to wow with yer fancy opinions.”
I’ve been using his advice ever since. I am the supportive host who will happily drop off an entire coach of people at Blarney Castle, but if anyone wanted my honest opinion on kissing that stone, I’d tell them they were better off spending their time walking the ancient gardens.
All that hard work seems to be paying off. In less than a year, I have not only been the highest-rated host but also the most requested by repeat visitors. Seamus swears if it weren’t for my pretty face and all the flirting he insists I do, I’d be a lot worse off.
Arsehole.
Lost in thought, I barely remember what direction I was headed. I briefly glance up, go around the corner, and run headfirst into?—
“Shit!” Small hands reach out to steady me as I find myself staring down into two of the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. “I’m so sorry,” she says, taking a step back. Her hands go with her, and I immediately feel the loss. The heat from my fingers feels like a brand on my shoulder. “I wasn’t paying attention. I’m…lost.” The last word comes with a flush of the cheeks as I finally get a good look at her.
