‘Kinda, are you warm enough? Are you OK?’ I ask, removing my blanket to slide it over Cameron’s shoulders.
‘It’s fine, I think I still have remnants of a fever. You keep your blanket. I like the old lady villager look.’
‘I’ve literally gone pure sex on legs for you tonight.’
He smiles and studies my face. With his puffy face and bright pink cheeks and my leisurewear, both of us are peak young twenties hot couple.
‘Happy New Year, Josie. I won’t kiss you because, you know, I’m viral.’
I shrug my shoulders. ‘I will happily abstain. Happy New Year, Cameron. Now you’ll see the real reason my nan kept this flat.’
We turn and look out of the balcony, festooned in plants, herbs and two garden gnomes engaged in a sexual position. I gave those to her. As we look out into the London skyline, the river winding its way through it, we watch as it bursts into a sea of colour, plumes of fireworks lighting the dark for as far as the eye can see. It’s a sight of which I’ll never tire.
Cameron places a hand over mine and we stand here for a moment, taking it in. I’d like to hold this hand for a while longer, I think. New year, new start. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.
My phone buzzes once more and I look down at it.
Happy New Year, my Gorgeous Josie! Love, Nan xx You kids don’t go shagging in my flat, OK?
SIXTEEN
It turns out when you get adult chickenpox, it really is no joke. There’s a reason you should get these things as a kid. For a week after New Year, Cameron really was quite ill. And itchy. Before, our messages used to be quite raunchy, about how I’d like to claw my fingers down his back. Now he was begging me to come round and do that – one message even offered payment. Literally come round and scratch me, PLEASE. I didn’t, as lovely as the offer was. Instead, I sent him calamine and oatmeal, which I heard was good in baths. We had long chats on the phone and I’d attempt to distract him and make him laugh. We buddy-watched theLokispin-off on Disney Plus. I sent him chicken broth and ice cream on Just Eat. When the pox really took hold, lining his throat and eyelids, that’s when he stopped FaceTiming and I let him be so he could recover in peace. But yes, it meant I didn’t tell him. I couldn’t. It’d be like kicking him when he was down. And incredibly itchy.
So to fill the gap (not like that), I’ve ploughed myself into everything else in my life that needs attention. I moved back with my parents just after New Year, after our tearful, drunken apologies via Sonny’s FaceTime, and we’ve been pretty quick to bury that hatchet, agreeing the better option would be better to bury it in Mike’s head instead. Sonny also gets married in just over a month and my practical diplomacy is needed in sorting the gift list, the orders of service, the table plan. And work. I still have a job, I still run a company, I’m still the boss.
This morning, the warehouse is abuzz (not like that) because it’s January and we have to work extra hard to make this month matter. After Christmas, there’s always a lull in sales. People who were so excited about new toys and gimmicks under the Christmas tree realise that maybe they’re not quite ready for a battery-operated nipple clamp and butt plug, so things get returned. This means Pamela has her work cut out for her. She gets through a lot of gloves. But it also means we have to think creatively about fixing that lull and ensure people still care about their orgasms in the cold light of January.
Which is why today that YouTube influencer has come into the office to chat about her Sugar Cube product launch in time for Valentine’s Day. I don’t know much about this girl, but I do know that her name has no vowels. She’s called SGR, so I don’t even know how to say that. SGR sounds like a Honda model, but to anyone under the age of twenty-one in this office, there is a lot of excitement about her pending visit. This basically means Charlie is the only one who knows who this girl is.
‘Thank you for letting me be in the room, I can’t believe SGR is going to be here!’ Charlie says to me now, in a suit. Yes, he elevated his jeans and sweatshirt look today as he knew he was going to be in the presence of a celebrity that he might have a little crush on. He wore this suit at his prom, which doesn’t make me feel old at all and I’m only twenty-six.
‘Say her name again for me?’ I ask him, studying his mouth.
‘SGR,’ he says. It sounds like sigger. Like cigarette? I am so confused. I will assume that she wasn’t christened with this name.
‘And she’s big on the internet?’ I realise this question makes me sound as old as my nan. Marketing have done all their research and supposedly this girl has a following of millions. I turned on one of her videos and it was very poppy and energetic.YoYoYo! Big up yourselves!Welcome back to my YouTube channel, don’t forget to like and subscribe, peeps. Peace out!
‘TikTok, YouTube, she’s just done a song collab with KSI…’ Charlie tells me. More initials.
‘You’re making me feel very old, Charlie.’
‘You don’t TikTok?’
‘I do not. I dance on my own, in my kitchen, and I don’t broadcast those moves to the masses.’
He laughs and there’s a knock on the door.
‘Come in!’ I holler.
The door opens and Michelle stands there with two girls. I say girls, one is older, maybe my age, dressed in jeans and a blazer, and the other looks like teenage me in my Sailor Moon days – a tie-dye bucket hat, miniskirt, Doc Marten boots and a fluffy rucksack. I expected an entourage today, I printed out extra documents and had extra glasses on a tray waiting, so it’s a surprise to see just the two of them.
‘This is SGR… and her sister manager, Scarlett…’ Michelle announces, able to say her name without it sounding like a hiccup.
I walk up to them and shake their hands. ‘Thanks, Michelle. I’m Josie, it’s good to meet you both. Can I offer you some refreshments before we start?’
‘Diet Coke, if you have it?’ Scarlett says.
Michelle nods. She’ll have to run down to the petrol station on the corner, but we can get that for them.
