LAD: A British Bad Boy Romance Novel (Bad Boys of London Book 1) (2 page)

Kristen continued her tirade while I tried to relax again. “You have this image in your mind that life should be all like those damn Shakespeare plays or whatever, like Romeo and Juliet insta-love or something. If you understood dudes as well as me, you’d realize romance doesn’t fucking exist. Guys only want one thing and if they say otherwise, they’re lying. So, why the hell shouldn’t us girls go after that one thing too? Beat ’em at their own game they’ve been beating us at for centuries.” Her logic went a little over my head, but Kristen had had her fair experience with shitty guys; I couldn’t blame her for her views. “There are only two traits you need in a man: That you find him physically attractive and that he’s talented with either his dick or his tongue so that even if the relationship goes to shit — which it will — at least you always have the make-up sex.” She took a drawn out sip of her beer then tapped me on my arm. “Leather jacket, walking this way.”

Sure enough, the hottie at the end of the bar walked towards us. He stood taller and broader than I’d expected, and had a relaxed kind of gait, but there was still something about him that looked angry, forceful; Whether it was his tensed brow or tight lips, I wasn’t sure what made me feel that way. I could sense he felt pissed about something. He passed us by without even another glance at me, leaving the faint remnants of his spicy cologne spinning in my head. The look meant nothing, obviously— Anything he did in life probably seemed sexy, from brushing his teeth to posting a letter. I made one last subtle glance over to him as he disappeared into the flurry of airport passengers never to be seen again.

“Is the heat burning in your loins?!” Kristen bellowed, grabbing the sides of my face. “You’re actually blushing. How cute.”

“Kris! You’re so ridiculous. Shush.” I took a sip of my Coke and shook him out of my head.

“You need, like seriously, need a dude like that. Hell, we all do.” Kristen took a gulp of her beer. “Because he’s a dick, you can tell. But he’d fuck you right, y’know?”

“Guys, my sincerest apologies but I can’t ever leave this place.” Ako finally sidled up to the bar and ordered a ginger ale.
 

“Why so? You spy some foreign hotties too?” Kristen said.

“No, because I’m never getting on another plane ever again.” She appeared mildly better. Although she still had a glisten of sweat on her forehead and her skin looked pallor.

“Did you throw up?” I asked.

“Nope. I did gag a little violently, took some deep breaths then splashed some cold water on my face. I think the worst has passed. At least, I hope it has.”

“Perhaps you ate something funny?” I asked.
 

“Well, I did tell you I thought that chicken in the meal tasted wrong.” She coughed. “But who knows. And who cares? Not like you guys have any sympathy for me, right?”

“The both of you, I am not putting up with two Debbie Downers this whole trip. I want whatever cynical parts of your personalities— which are awesome and I love you both— but seriously, the cynical, sad, introverted parts of yourselves are to be left right here at this bar, got it? While we’re here, we say ’yes’ to everything, we stay together, and we don’t stop laughing and smiling…”

“I think if you felt as sick as me you wouldn’t—”

“Psst,” Kristen said and pinched her fingers over Ako’s lips. “I want no more of this. We have one objective on this, our dream vacation,” she raised her pint in the air, “and that is to get you tight-wads to loosen up and for us three to have the milk this city for all its worth— Which, might I remind you, was my life savings. So, what d’ya say? Will you guys let Aunty Kristen take control a little while we’re here and show you guys how to have a good time?”
 

She offered her glass for us to clink. Ako and I looked with knowing to each other. We smiled. Kristen had a gift at lifting our spirits. I’d credit her history of cheerleading for this skill. She was right, too. We’d been looking forward to this trip for so long. The time had come to wrangle this life by the horns and truly put ourselves out there to accept whatever opportunities present themselves to us. I’d promised myself to leave old Hayley in LAX. This Hayley would be different— She would start saying ’yes’ more often, would listen to Kristen more despite every instinct within me telling me otherwise, and she would make this trip something to remember.

With that, we clinked our glasses and all proclaimed “Cheers!” in the most forced British accents we could muster.

— 2 —
 

“Oh my gosh, it’s so…English,” Ako said with glee as we carried our bags into our room and examined the interior.

“How astute, Ako,” Kristen teased.

Indeed, it was a cozy and traditional style of a room. The kitschy, floral patterned bedspread matched the drapes, there was a fireplace with two stately chairs in front of it, fresh flowers on the dresser, and a charming old chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It wasn’t fancy nor large. It suited us. We’d made an agreement to skip the hostel route so that it’d force us to experience the place and not get too caught up in the backpacker safety bubble.

The room had two single beds, and each of us would take turns every night sleeping on the small couch. It lacked a proper kitchen, but we did have a tea set, a bar fridge and a microwave we could get crafty with somehow.

“I am starving,” Kristen said, wearily. “That rubbery bangers and mash plane shit didn’t hit the spot for me.”

“I brought some Digestives.” I opened my luggage to find them for her.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Ako asked. “You might’ve saved me a trip to the bathroom.”

“No, they’re not for your digestion, they’re cookies, filled with chocolate. You’ll love them. Trust me.” I rummaged through my suitcase to find the package, but something seemed wrong. “Uh, guys,” I started. Not only could I not find the cookies, but there were all kinds of things in my bag that I couldn’t recognize. “Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit.” I began to panic and tossed all the items in the suitcase over my shoulder thinking my own belongings might magically appear. There were men’s socks in there, cologne, pants, hats. How the hell could this happen? “Oh my God.”

“Everything okay?” Ako kneeled down beside me.
 

“Guys, this isn’t my bag. How did I pick up the wrong bag? Oh no.” I grabbed fistfuls of my hair and tried to hold back the tears. My body threatened to give way beneath me due to how exhausted it felt. This was the last thing I needed to deal with.

“Are you sure? That totally looks like your bag on the outside.” Ako said.

“Yeah, I’m pretty damn sure.” My hand wrapped around beard trimmer and I held it up.

“Why didn’t you put a tag on it or something?”

“There was a tag on it but…..It’s just…Not on this one.” I collapsed onto the bed. “I just forgot to look at the tag, I guess. I was too ready to leave the airport. Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” How could this be happening on my dream vacation? Just my luck.
 

“Hey!” Kristen said and sat on top of me. “What’d I say about being dramatic? Look, we’ll call the airport and leave your name with them. Maybe the other person realized yours wasn’t theirs anyway and it’s sitting back at baggage claim as we speak.”

“Or there’s some man in London who will be disappointed he has a bag full of skirts, Keds, and sweaters.” Ako said.

“And Jane Austen novels and lacey panties,” Kristen added and started tickling me. I couldn’t move beneath her weight despite every effort to. I couldn’t help but break out laughing.

“There we go! Laughs, smiles, girls! Right…Let’s get onto solving this. We’ll view it as our first adventure.”

Kristen climbed off of me and I continued to rummage through the bag’s pockets to see if I could find anything with a phone number on it— An address, maybe. When I couldn’t find anything, I moved to the contents of the bag I’d thrown into a careless pile behind me. I checked jean pockets, an iPad sleeve and then the toiletries bag.

A toothbrush, some nail scissors and…

“No fucking way.” I pinched something between my fingers.

“You find something?”

“Kristen, do you remember that guy we saw at the airport? The one at the pub?”

“Uh, how could I forget? Why?” she asked.
 

“I have a weird feeling that,” I said, holding up a small bottle of black nail polish, “this is his bag.”

Kristen squinted at me, confused. “Why are you holding up black nail varnish? You mean to tell me you have Green Day’s luggage?”

“Did you see a name or identification of any kind?” Ako inquired further, concerned.
 

“No, guys. This is hottie at the bar’s bag, I know it!”

“Again, please elaborate.”

I stood triumphantly and gestured again with the nail polish. “He had his nails painted. I could hardly miss it because, well, that’s weird, right?”

“Are you serious? Okay, we might have to reevaluate making him your first conquest then.”

Ako helped me dig further, looking for clues. I felt bad going through his bag like this but I couldn’t resist. In my rapid-beating heart, I knew this had to be his stuff. This felt like violating him in some way, but I lacked the self-control to stop. So far, I’d seen nothing overtly scandalous bar a box of condoms (Magnum sized, naturally). No drugs or shady sex toys, only piles of pricey, trendy clothes, grooming products and an iPad.
 

I had to stand up for a moment and collect my racing thoughts. I gazed out the window into the quaint, London street to watch the cars and black taxis drive by.

“Hey, a business card!” Ako said. I spun around quickly.
 

“Let me see that.”

She read it aloud to us: “Edward Cartwright, Hotel Manager of the Chateau Le Grande, London.”
 

“No. No way,” I said in disbelief.

“Yeah, he ain’t no Edward,” Kristen added.
 

The manager of the Chateau wearing black nail polish? Impossible. Maybe he’d applied for a job there or something. But I could barely even conceive of it. He looked like a bad boy— The kind who didn’t take shit from anybody and wouldn’t be seen dead at a job interview.
 

“I think we just need to pack all this up and return it to the airport,” Ako said with concern, as she dutifully began to repack the bag. “This is unfair and rude to him. We shouldn’t have even gone through it at all.”

“Ako,” Kristen said, physically stopping her. “This is kind of cool. We could be like detectives! We can orchestrate this romantic cat and mouse chase just for our Hayley-poo. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

In situations such as these, I would usually side with Ako, no doubt about it. But that’s what old Hayley would do. I kept replaying Kristen’s speech in my head and it ignited something in me— I had the bag of a sexy, mysterious stranger, and I wanted to make the most of it.
 

“What…What if we try to find this guy ourselves?” I offered to Ako, gently. She raised her eyebrow to me with a crooked smile and a head shake. “What’s the harm, right? He’s obviously well-off with these brands he’s buying. He probably won’t miss it— It’s just stuff.”

“Hayley,” Ako probed.

“Ako, it’s pouring rain outside, it’s late, we’re tired, and I’m not paying for another of those fancy London cabs back to the airport. That was not cheap. And the Chateau is close…I think.”

“Will this make you happy?” Ako said straight.

I nodded. She paused. Kristen squeezed her in a side hug.

“Ako.”

With a signature roll of her big, dark brown eyes she gave us all the permission we needed. “Fine, but if we get in trouble know I’m a ride-or-die bitch, got it? I have a Ph.D. to get that can only be acquired without an international criminal record.”

The three of us looked at one another mischievously. This might be fun.

“Who’s up for high tea at Chateau Le Grande tomorrow then?” I asked, grinning from ear to ear. Kristen squealed in excitement too.

“I’m on a tight budget,” Ako said, “but I can always order the tap water.”

“I have my dad’s credit card,” Kristen countered, never one to be familiar with the concept of budgeting. “The joys of having a father guilty of negligence, huh?”

“You need a therapist.”

“Nope. What I need is fish and chips,” she replied. “We’re going out. Grab your umbrella’s, girls. Oh, well…Hayley, you can share mine.”

And with that, we embarked on our first night out in London.