Page 15 of Just Like You
“Now. Here’s the thing.” I twirled the watch between my fingers. “I…kind of ended up with a souvenir.”
And there it was. A loud gasp as Sonny’s face was suddenly too close to the screen.
“He gave you an STI. What the actual fuck?”
“No.” I laughed. “But I don’t know what to do.”
“A souvenir. He wrote you a fucking postcard of what?”
Trust Sonny to lower the tone. Always.
“I found his watch in my bag. Probably dropped it at some point and anyway. Options and solutions, Sonny. I need them.”
“You google the hell out of him. I assume you know his name.”
“Indeed.”
“Nice watch?”
“Rolex Daytona Ghost.”
“Honey, I have no idea about watches; that’s your thing.”
“Expensive,” I muttered out, already regretting even telling him because now he’d make me do something. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
“Oh,” he said quietly. “So nothing we are going to keep hold of. We don’t want that kind of potential f-bomb cramping our style. Unless he left it as some kind of…” I could see his face scrunch up in disgust. “Payment.”
“Are you mad?” I spat out.
“I know. But you know, some idiots and all that. A one-night stand.”
“That’s exactly what it was. A brief hook-up. No contact details exchanged. I have no particular interest in ever seeing the guy again.”
“Then…”
“I need to find out how to return his bloody watch, and then I’ll be able to sleep at night.”
“You’re not sleeping?”
“Sleeping fine. You know what I mean.”
“Well. This guy. Should I worry?”
“You know me, I don’t get attached.” I sounded snarkier than I meant, but it was the truth.
“Your heart is well lubed, honey. Nothing will ever stick to you. That’s the deal, you know this. We’ll be old and grey and sat in the nursing home shitting glitter in our old age. No rings on our fingers.”
“Absolutely not. No desire for that kind of baggage.”
“Baggage free, honey.”
“You’ve got it,” I sung back in a silly accent. Like we did.
“Google the guy. Swift courier to his office, wherever he works. Keep the receipt and for God’s sake insure the damn parcel. Thenyour conscience will be clear, and we can all go on to live another day. Easy. Now, are you free at the weekend?”
“So swift to dismiss my troubles,” I sang out, in yet another squeaky voice. It made him smile. Job done. “Anyway, have that five-day-Maldives tomorrow. No can do.”
“And who did you fuck in Scheduling to get your arse on that jammy little trip?”
