Page 3 of A Loser by Christmas
I don’t explain that there’s nothing fake about my accent or that it isn’t why viewers clicked subscribe in the hundreds of thousands. They did that to be part of the bigger story my GoPro used to show them.
“Of course I watch your channel. That’s how I know we’re the same kind of people.”
No, we are fucking not.
“You’re cutthroat, just like me.” Lito reminds me of another repair I need to add to Dad’s list—his laugh gurgles like theclogged drain in my galley. “You don’t hesitate to exploit people. Like the time you filmed a day-in-the-life video with your ex.”
“My what?”
“Your ex-boyfriend.” His lip curls, and I’d suggest he book a visit to a dental hygienist if he didn’t cut me off. “You know, the ex who starred in all those lifeboat rescue videos you uploaded a year or so ago.”
“You mean Reece Trelawney?” Reece and I were never a thing. I’ll always be grateful that he once fished me out of the sea, but my longest lasting relationship, and all of my love, is reserved for a boat, yet Lito reminds me of a video that almost proves him right.
“You recorded someone who used to be my assistant. Pretty little thing, but Jack kept turning down the photo shoots I offered him as well.” Lito is so offended it’s almost funny. “He said it would be unprofessional while I was his employer.” That affront of his morphs into a smirk. “Imagine my surprise when you videoed him being exactly that. Unprofessional. Right after he went to work with your ex.”
“Reece Trelawney isn’t my ex.”
Lito doesn’t listen, too busy recreating what I have to admit wasn’t my finest filmmaking moment. “When Jack worked for me, he always looked such a loser whenever he concentrated. Like this.” His tongue tip almost reaches the end of his nose, his eyes crossing. “You catching him in the act was superb. And getting to see all of that pathetic shock on his face when he saw your camera? All of that flaming embarrassment was vicious, darling.Delicious.I must have watched it a hundred times. No wonder it went viral.” Lito frowns. “Why did you take it down?”
He guesses my reason for me.
“Ah. Was it because your ex made you delist it? Or was it because Jack’s best friend threatened you? You know, one ofTrelawney’s brothers. The one who hits people for his living. He threatened you like he once threatened me?”
“I’ve never met either of Reece’s brothers.” I did once glimpse his family from a distance and saw enough to know the men are all similar Cornish giants.
Lito sniffs. “Well, one of those Trelawneys is a complete thug. They don’t call him big, bad, and brutal for no reason. Can you believe that he said he’d end me if I ever went anywhere near Jack again?”
I smell a story. “Why?”
“No good reason.” Lito chuffs before admitting, “Jack must have exaggerated about a little misunderstanding we had in my studio darkroom. I guessed that Jack’s bestie threatened you too, and that was why you took down that video. Shame. I used to watch it almost as much as the uploads where you got all wet while chasing pirates.”
“You mean traffickers?” That’s who I chased before myboat almost sank between France and England like the hopes and dreams of the families they bled dry.
Lito’s hold on my elbow tightens. “Pirates. Traffickers. Same difference. It was exciting to watch your shirt get all wet and see-through. I’d always press pause for a longer look at your dark little nips. Those are the videos I watch over and over.”
Great. Now I feel queasy.
At least that gets me moving. I head off fast before one of my deadlines can reach its expiration.
Lito shouts after me. “You should still do a photo shoot with me.” He scuttles fast to grab my elbow for a third time just as a wicked Thames breeze ruffles my hair. Instead, he snags a wavy tendril that I yank free so fast a few black strands still wind around his fingers. “Never cut your hair,” he orders. “It’s the perfect contrast for that haughty profile of yours. Softens all of your sharp lines and angles.”
I’m not quick enough to avoid another touch of ashtray-scented fingers. Or to miss that he’s avaricious. “I could make some serious money.” He quickly backpedals. “For you, Valentin.Foryou. And all for an extremely reasonable percentage of your future earnings. Working with me could open a lot of doors for you.”
The beep of an alarm on my phone stops me from telling him I’d rather work with my father, which is really saying something. Not that Dad’s a bad person—after all, he let my grand-mère raise me right up until she couldn’t. Then he paid for that boarding school and enrolled me for back-to-back sailing courses to fill the school breaks when he was working. I’m just saying that by the time I was fluent in English, we’d missed the boat on understanding each other. We still don’t.
That leaves me bleaker than I could have predicted.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Say something sexy to me in French first,” Lito croons. “Encourage me to make you famous.”
I give him a little of what he asked for. “Non, merci.” Just as quickly, I revert to English. “And I don’t need your help. I’m making my own fame, thanks.”
“How? You haven’t uploaded a new video in forever.”
I shouldn’t tell him how I plan to do it, but that wicked Thames breeze strips an answer from me. “I’ll win a filmmaking contest.” I’ve almost finished the entry that could score me a trophy engraved with my name and enough prize money to get me back to my true vocation.
Lito snorts. “Not with that piddly little GoPro of yours you won’t. And what would your contest entry even be about? Selling speedboats?”
