Page 61 of A Loser by Christmas
“Oui.”
“I’m at City Airport. Got the last two seats on a flight to Newquay. Can you get here in the next twenty minutes?” Before I can tell him that I’m too far away to make it, he speaks again, even faster. “The club has photos of us.”
“Of us?”
For a heart-sinking second, I picture the inside of my cabin and the bed Calum unfolded for us where I held up imaginary score cards I’d never want anyone but him to laugh at. “It wasn’t?—”
I don’t get to say, “Me.”
I don’t need to.
Calum already has the name of who must have got busy with his camera under party fireworks.
“They have shots of us kissing against the hatch on your boat.The club has paid off that fucker Dixon, but they want me back in the States pronto. Are insisting on it.”
His laugh is horrible.
Hollow.
I hate it.
“I can’t even argue. It was me who insisted on them planning ahead. Now looks like I might be giving the fans a great big bi-reveal for Christmas.” Background noise almost drowns out his unhappy promise. “I don’t care about that. I do care about the timing.”
Because he won’t get to see his mother unwrap her present.
Or get to celebrate with his whole family.
All I have left of my own sits across the desk. Dad watches my reaction to Calum topping his wish list with me.
“Because I thought we’d have all of next week together. Plus Cornwall. At least two more weeks, Valentin. They’ll only give me the rest of today. I can go home but I’ll have to leave again by midnight. Twelve fucking hours.” An announcement echoes loudly, calling a last-chance flight to Cornwall. “Shit, I have to go.”
“Do it. Catch that flight.”
“Really don’t want to leave the country without seeing you.”
I’ve done more than my share of sinking. It means I can hear him do the same now, so I blurt a promise. “You won’t.”
My face must soon tell a less confident story after our call ends and I borrow my father’s laptop—every train I find is booked solid. I’m still searching when the laptop lid snaps closed.
“Hey! Why?—?”
Dad holds the lid down while saying, “I can’t make you want to sell speedboats with me, but I had a second job once, didn’t I?That role might suit you better.”
I don’t need career advice right now. What I need is to find the quickest way to Cornwall from the far side of the country.
Dad’s hand on the laptop lid won’t let me.
He holds out his free hand to me. Something shiny dangles from a finger, spinning like a bauble once did, and my heart soars like the streetlight angels outside the shop where Calum found it.
This is no egg-shaped tree decoration.
“Valentin, the best work I ever did was delivering your Christmas presents.”
Dad offers me the keys to his boat transporter.
“How about you follow in those footsteps?”
18
