Page 23 of Subscriber Wars

“Who?”

I find a shirt on the sofa and pull it on. “Vee. My neighbor. Are you rolling yet?”

He fumbles with his camera bag, and I rush to the window, prepared to pull out my phone, just in case.

“I’m rolling. I’m rolling,” Brick says, out of breath and really flustered for a guy who seems like he has his life together. “Do you want to livestream this?”

I shake my head. “No. I want to go back and edit it later.” I can feel the warmth of the coffee making its way down to my stomach and staving off the hangover. Why does messing with Valentina bring such joy to my miserable soul?

“Where do you want me to set up?”

My last cameraman didn’t need this much instruction.

I push up the window above the kitchen sink. “Here.” I tap the sink.

Brick’s eyes widen before he cocks a brow. “You want me to set up next to the sink?”

I ignore him and hop up on the counter, excitement coursing through my veins. “No, notnextto the sink.” I toss last night’s dishes onto the counter and rest my feet in the stainless steel bowl, a clear indication where I’d like his delaying ass to set up.

Getting low, I peer out the window and into the courtyard, not bothering to see if Brick takes the hint. If he wants a job, he’ll get his ass up here quickly. “Did you knowNational Geographicphotographer, Krystle Wright, dangled off the side of a Tasmanian cliff to get a perfect shot?” I ask him.

My mood has really improved in the last few minutes. “I think if she can put on her man pants and hang from a cliff, you can squat in the sink for a few minutes.”

I don’t look back to see if I might have hurt his feelings. If I did and he leaves, then I’m better off. I don’t need a chickenshit cameraman on my payroll.

A few seconds and a sigh later, his camera is plopped on the counter on the opposite side and then his body follows. My eyes never leave the courtyard.

“Remind me what I’m shooting,” Brick says, a little edge of attitude seeping out.

“Did I hire you to film or ask an annoying amount of questions?” Seriously. I realize this isn’t his expertise, but if I’m staring out the window, and I ask you to roll, I mean for you to shoot wherever the hell I say.

“But there’s nothing in the courtyard,” he adds, continuing to grate on my nerves.

“It’s almost time,” I say, watching the back door of Vee’s townhouse like it’s a stripper pole. “She’s coming. Just make sure you stay on her the whole way. Don’t veer off and film her friend. Stay on her.”

I think Brick nods, but he may have taken a sip of coffee. I won’t ever know for sure because Vee opens the back door and all my attention goes to the trash bag in her hand.

A stupid and completely unwarranted grin pulls onto my face. I shouldn’t get this excited. Vee is the enemy. She should not be eliciting these types of feelings.

“You want me to film her picking up the party trash?” Brick’s words are nearly a whisper, but I don’t miss the disgusted shock buried in them.

I nod, the stupid grin still going strong. “That’s exactly what I want you to do.”

I don’t much care if Brick thinks I’m this crazy, drugged-up college student. Mine and Vee’s prank battles run so deep that he’ll never grasp the lengths we go to get one up on each other—or at least we used to.

But looks like old habits die hard.

Literally.

I turn from Brick, hoping he doesn’t see my sweatpants tenting in the center. Watching my neighbor bend down and begin picking up trash is like watching the opening commercials to the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. Anticipation that you’re sure to see the tightest of bodies with the bitchiest of looks.

If Brick didn’t think I was weird before, he’ll for sure think it now. “Stay on her,” I mumble. It’s annoying how hyper I am at seven-thirty in the morning.

“I got her, don’t worry,” he reassures me.

Finally, someone sounds like he’s taking his job seriously. Fine, okay, it was me who wasn’t taking this job seriously.

“Are you awake?” Vee asks into her phone, bending over and picking up a plastic cup and tossing it into the bag. “It’s a half past seven.” She pauses, grabbing a beach ball and popping the air tube.

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