by M. C. Roth
“You’re here tonight, aren’t you? They’ve got your poster at the door. You’re not that old hat.”
“Believe me, I am. Ship Mates isn’t even on air anymore. Most of that crowd won’t know me. If they’ve heard of me at all, it’s because their mum fancies me.”
In an era of naked dating shows and full on-screen sex, Ship Mates was reality television from a different time. A fly-on-the-wall documentary series following the crew onboard The Atlantic Star, a luxury cruise ship, it ran for four successful years with a peak audience of six million viewers. Harry had been working as an assistant maintenance engineer when the film crew had discovered him and featured him as one of the key players in the docu-soap. His classic good looks and sunny personality made him an immediate hit with the audience as they watched him deal with problems around the ship such as blocked toilets and clogged Jacuzzis.
When the show was broadcast in a prime-time slot on the BBC, Harry became an instant hit. His fame exploded after the second series. Almost overnight a slew of lucrative offers came his way. Magazine interviews, calendars, endorsements, public appearances—a tidal wave of money came down upon him. Harry left Ship Mates and The Atlantic Star after three years when his work at sea prevented him from capitalizing on all these new opportunities. He presented his own travel show on the BBC for two years and appeared as a guest on countless celebrity panel shows. That in itself was a joke. Harry never took himself seriously as a celebrity. He had a hard time accepting his status as a reality-TV star. He hadn’t set out to be famous. He’d gotten luck, simple as that.
He didn’t fit into the celebrity/reality-TV culture. All those people with their cutthroat ambition and ruthless survival skills. He was an imposter, a charlatan. The glory days were ending. He’d enjoyed them while they lasted, but his world wouldn’t crumble when the fame did.
Marc Jenner returned a few minutes later, veneered smile in situ, his eyes gleaming a fresh coke-blaze. “All sorted,” he said, slipping an envelope into Harry’s hand. “Let’s get out there.”
“One moment.” Harry broke the seal on the envelope. It was stuffed with cash, used tens and twenties. He had an image of Marc tearing around the club, trying to cobble his fee together from the various cash registers. “There’s only twelve hundred here,” he said.
“The rest has been transferred into your back account,” Marc said, a note of irritation in his voice.
Taking his time, Harry retrieved his phone and accessed the banking app. The remainder of his fee was all there. “Okay, then,” he said, granting Marc his full Mister Showbiz smile. “We’re good to go. Let’s do this.”
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About the Author
M.C. Roth lives in Canada and loves every season, even the dreaded Canadian winter. She graduated with honours from the Associate Diploma Program in Veterinary Technology at the University of Guelph before choosing a different career path.
Between caring for her young son, spending time with her husband, and feeding treats to her menagerie of animals, she still spends every spare second devoted to her passion for writing.
She loves growing peppers that are hot enough to make grown men cry, but she doesn’t like spicy food herself. Her favourite thing, other than writing of course, is to find a quiet place in the wilderness and listen to the birds while dreaming about the gorgeous men in her head.
M.C. Roth loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website details and author profile page at https://www.pride-publishing.com