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Makati, 7:45 a.m.

The guy was definitely not part of her tour group, and he knew it, too. He knew it, she knew it, and still after they locked eyes for maybe ten seconds of mutual knowing, he pulled the handle of the van's sliding door and let himself inside.

What the hell? Naya Llamas counted her breaths and wondered what to do, given this new situation. Six people were officially part of her tour today. She had rented a van that would comfortably fit ten. An extra person wouldn't push anyone out, but the unexpectedness wasn't cool. It was already going to be a long day.

This was not how she did things.

The designated meetup time at the park-adjacent parking lot was eight a.m., and she told the group they'd be leaving promptly at eight-ten. She had a reputation for being serious about time, and her guests today would know that. She would have to settle this problem in a few minutes, or else it would show up in a review somewhere that...that she had a stowaway? That she couldn't deal with one? What was this, even?

Only six people on this tour but if the situation got out of control, no telling how bad it could get. Naya's "income-generating hobby" relied on referrals from happy guests, and she needed to make this hobby last with every fiber of her being.

In a second, she was in the van to confront the guy.

He took a window seat on the last row, and was already tuning out the world. Earphones on, blank stare activated. Handsome face, sure, dark hair, growing stubble, and the look of someone who needed sleep and peace of mind.

None of that mattered! Her van, her tour, her rules.

"Excuse me," Naya said, tapping the seat directly in front of him, then the window near his face because the first tap didn't work. "Sir."

He pulled one earbud off. "Yeah?"

Yeah? He was just going to yeah his way out of this? The nerve. "This van is for a tour that starts at eight-ten a.m."

"Awesome."

"You are not part of the tour group."

"Oh. Yes, yes in fact I'm not."

"If you're not part of the tour, I'm going to have to ask you to—"

"I'd like to join it."

"It's not—" It's not possible, was what she was ready to say. Stubborn since birth. Resisting reasonable authority. Naya was aware of her flaws—other people made sure she knew them, all her life—but starting the "income-generating hobby" got her acquainted with a new side of her. More mature, more responsible. She also needed money to live. Still. "I have a website and a schedule and a waiver that you didn't—"

"How much is the tour?"

Damn, how far was he going to take this? She told him. And when she did, with that confident tone she practiced because she told herself to be proud of her value, she saw that he did not expect it to cost that much. Naya's tours were special, designed for specific experiences that she got to determine. Customizing the stops and setting the price high also kept a lot of the creeps and troublemakers away, so this could probably solve her problem before the van warmed up, and her long day could proceed as planned.

But in response, the guy fished his wallet from the pocket of his jeans, and opened it up. Worn and creased leather, thick with stuff. He dug in there and slowly extricated one bill after another. Eventually he had enough thousands to cover exactly what she said the tour cost.

"It's not that simple," she sputtered. "There's a waiver..."

"Your phone," he said. "Take a video of me."

"What?"

"Hold up your phone now, to my face. Take video."

She frowned, set the cash down on the seat, and did as he asked.

"Game? Okay. My name is Benjamin Cacho, of legal age, and I am joining this tour group of my own free will and you...what's your name?"

"Naya Llamas."

"...Naya Llamas, you are not liable for anything that happens to me while I'm on your tour today." He paused, and sort of shook his head. "In fact, any pain that befalls me today will be entirely my fault, I am sure. You can end the video now."

She did. "You don't even know where we're going, Benjamin Cacho."

"Today I just want to be anywhere but where I usually am. Anything else I need to do to join your tour, Naya Llamas?"

No, nothing else. More than anything, she wanted to throw the cash back at him, all dramatic like that, and tell him to go to the website and get on the waiting list like everyone else. People paid good money to get a spot on her tours and this display of casual disregard for what it was and what he had walked into was disrespectful, damn it.

But she needed the money. It was an objective reality, that most people in her life validated. You are thirty-one. We shouldn't have to worry about you anymore, her family members liked to say, or at least hint heavily.

"Say please," she said.

"Please." He let that go so quickly. He obviously did not have the same deadly sin as hers as a potential downfall.

"All right," she said. "And you can call me Naya."

"I'm Ben. And if my presence makes you uncomfortable, you don't need to call me anything. I will be quiet as a mouse."

"I don't like mice."

"I will be as quiet as your favorite quiet thing."

Naya sighed and picked up the money on the seat. No more reasons to resist; she put up enough of a fight, didn't she? They locked eyes again, not really staring, but Naya was focusing on keeping quiet and not starting the cycle of self-sabotage. She kept her tour groups small on purpose, giving up the chance to earn more for no good reason, really.

Consistency of character. That's the reason.

Still, she needed the money. Money literally walked into her van. She shouldn't toss it out on the street.

"Welcome to the tour, Ben," she said. "I think you'll end up enjoying yourself today."

"I doubt that," he replied. "But it won't be your fault at all."

Wow. Naya bit her lip. She should stop talking altogether, before she said anything she regretted. She was more mature now, and responsible. She gave him a stiff nod before she backed out of the van and left him in there.

Outside, she found herself face to face with her cousin Melly, "income-generating hobby" partner and her driver for the day.

"He's not part of the tour," Melly hissed, pointing at their stowaway. "Did he think we were his Uber or something?"

"He's part of it now. He paid and everything."

"But he didn't do the online form. We didn't vet him, and if there was an open slot we should have given it to the waitlist—"

"Melly," Naya sighed. "It's okay."

"You think? It's us and a bunch of strangers in a van—we should make sure we're safe—"

"I know who he is, Melly. It's okay."

Her cousin blinked at her. "He's a friend?"

She shook her head. "Not a friend. But he's...I recognize him. From work. I mean, the old job. I don't think he'll be a safety risk for us, and he already paid."

The difference between them was that Melly did not need this "job" as much and deferred often to Naya's decisions. "Okay," she said. "But I'll keep an eye on him just in case."

"Funny you said that—he seems to want to disappear today."

"So joining your See This Manila tour is the best thing for him today—or the worst."

"Depending on what he's trying to avoid. It shouldn't bother us. Let's carry on, have a great time as usual. Yes?"

Of course she was going to have a great time. She'd make sure of it. And whatever Benjamin Cacho—speechwriter working for the office of Senator David Alano—was hiding from, she was not going to let it affect her day at all.