Page 5 of Cusp: A Renzo + Lucia Companion

THREE

Diego

Keeping the selfie stick high and angled down to catch Diego’s lift from the ground before he landed the bottom of his board on the metal railing of the cement stairs, he caught it perfectly. And so did the camera, he bet. The skateboard protested under the weight and pressure of being stuck between him and the railing—how many had he broken doing this exact stunt over the last year alone?

Enough.

Or that’s what his sister said.

The few people who had gathered at the bottom of the stairs were quick to scatter when Diego flew off the end of the railing seemingly out of control. It kind of felt like he was, too. Those few seconds of being weightless in the air on his board, rushing too fast, changed to the ground coming at him before he even realized what happened.

Yet, it never scared him.

He liked it too much.

Diego swung the selfie stick around to catch the bright rays of the sun overhead and then a wide shot of the skatepark as his board slammed into the ground on all four wheels. Learning the skill of skateboarding was one thing, but doing it while running a camera at the same time was a whole other ball game. While he had yet to suffer a broken bone—well, nothing beyond a broken toe or sprain—he took a lot of falls. He got a lot of stitches; bruises, gashes and bloody noses or mouths was part of the territory.

Still, he liked it.

Sometimes people liked to see that shit; sometimes they didn’t. He quickly learned to edit videos to make a minute or two entertaining—or rather, how to edit things out, if needed. A lot of work went into both his vlogs and photography. More than people understood, typically. He liked doing both, though. One let him focus on what he could see, and the other allowed his followers to see how he did it all.

The second his weight came down on the board as he rolled across cement, Diego let the selfie stick and camera fall to his side, so he could focus on coming to a safe stop in the semi-busy skatepark. A lot of the faces were ones he recognized.

It was only the call of his name that reminded him why he’d actually skipped school—and that exam—to come to the park today.

“Hey! Over here, Diego!”

With his camera still rolling, although it wasn’t catching anything but passing cement and audio, Diego came to a stop just two feet away from Marty Lorde. He hadn’t been sure the guy would even come seeing as how during their last meeting, Diego hadn’t exactly jumped at the opportunity the Los Angeles manager—who toted an entire list of recognizable names that he represented.

He should have jumped at it, though.

Wasn’t this the chance of a lifetime?

“No school?” Marty asked him.

Diego shrugged, and slammed the heel of his Vans sneaker into the back of the board. The front flew up from the ground, and he caught it easily. Just as fast, he shut off his camera, knowing now wasn’t the time to go back through the footage though he really wanted to see if he had caught the takeoff and landing like he hoped. “Wasn’t that important today.”

Marty chuckled; the almost thirty-year-old man was slightly out of place in the skatepark with his black, fitted suit and professional demeanor considering he was the only one around who looked like he did. “School is always important.”

“But not today.”

Even if he had missed an exam that was a large percentage of his final grade.

Oh, well. Win some, lose some.

“Did you give what I said any thought or—”

“I have some questions.”

“Shoot,” Marty replied with a wave in his direction. “I’ve got nowhere better to be, and I know something like this is … I mean, it’s a big change. A huge step. You wanna know what I can do for you, then ask away. It’s the only way you’ll learn and feel like you can make the right choice for you.”

Right.

It was the same thing he said when he first approached Diego with the offer. He could tell the guy was serious—he wanted to sign on to managingDiego’s career not just entertain him while the man was in New York on business. He saw potential and wanted to help get Diego where he needed to be to make his wildest dreams possible.

Or that was the dream Marty tried selling.

“I want to have freedom of my name and brand,” Diego said, “and not just … be a rep or whatever.”