Brought the haptic suits in for download. Team was thrilled
Normally, I’d have clapped back with something likeHope they got dry-cleaned, but I couldn’t bring myself to joke. The wordsTeam was thrilledreverberated in my brain during the whole drive here. I’m not shy about the team knowing what I was like in bed. It’s more like I’m pissed that something that felt so incredible, so raw and alive, is now reduced to data points. And somehow, that kills the magic. Like it didn’t even count.
I drive Gertrude to work because I need the reminder of who I actually am. Josie Greene. Manager of Grace & Honor, part-time SynthoTech guinea pig, and onetime fiancée of Asshole of the Year Bryan. I own a car held together by spit and rubber bands. I’m not the kind of girl who posts Shimmy Beach weekend getaway pics with the hottest man on the planet.
As I pull into the parking lot, my phone buzzes with a text from Alan:
When you ignore your mother’s texts, I’m the one stuck holding her bad mood. At least let her know you’re alive. Better yet, do something nice for her. Surprise her, okay?
I add the world’s most reluctant thumbs-up emoji to his message. The worst part is he’s not wrong—Mom’s texts have been piling up like unopened bills, all quotes about gratitude in glittery fonts and sad-eyed kittens and all-caps memes about DAUGHTERS WHO DON’T CALL.
I slam the car door harder than I mean to. Maybe I’ll send her flowers.
“You feeling okay? Your energy is…” Honor waves her hands like she’s swatting at mosquitoes when she comes in from thestockroom and sees me staring into space, absentmindedly folding and refolding blankets in our new front window display.
“That sounds like something I would say,” I joke, but even I can hear that I’m giving off buzzkill vibes.
“Seriously, though. Did you check your blood sugar this morning?”
Oh, crap! I totally forgot. Not only did I not check my blood sugar this morning, I realize I didn’t check it all weekend. The good news is that if I was going to go into diabetic shock, it would have happened by now. I feel fine, at least physically.
For a second, I let myself imagine that maybe my diabetes is magically regulating itself. I feel the slightest flicker of optimism—because I’m that person who looks on the bright side, crosses my fingers, lights a candle, slips some crystals in my pocket, and hopes—and then remember I’ve never been the exception to the rule when it comes to medical stuff.
Shit. I really am cranky today.
“I’m good. Really. The new toys I ordered came in, and I put them out. Still not sure how I want to best display them, especially the alien dildos that go with that new alien-sex erotica series,” I say.
“That’s genius. Cobranding books with sex toys so they can be enjoyed together. I wish I’d thought of that,” Honor says.
“I wish I’d thought of haptic suits,” I blurt out, then immediately turn so Honor can’t see my face.
“What?”
“I said, I wish I had thought of, um…Happy Sticks. It’s a brand of incense meant to improve your mood,” I say, and, thank God, she buys it.
“Speaking of mood, why don’t you take the afternoon off and use that massage gift card from Weird-Face Scarf Guy? I’m notneeded at DME today, so I’m happy to hold down the fort,” Honor offers.
“I’m really fine! Promise!” I say, feeling guilty that Honor thinks I’m so out of it she needs to do my job. I don’t like to be the one gunking up someone else’s aura.
“Honestly, I kind of miss being here. Please, go to the spa and relax. You’ve earned it,” Honor says, and beams. It’s amazing how much happier she’s been since having Strike in her life. The two of them are like lovesick teenagers, and it’s adorable.
“Thanks, boss,” I say, and now a plan forms. I’m gonna surprise my mom at the nail salon. Maybe a bit of girl time will make things less…tense. I squeeze Honor in a quick hug and grab my bag. “You’re the best.”
“Josie?”
“Yeah?” I ask, one foot already out the front door.
“I hope you know that if and when you’re ever ready to talk about whatever is bothering you, I’m here.”
“I do,” I say, and I find that for the first time since Axe’s text, I feel a little less alone.
—
Nailed It is still tucked into the corner of Shelton Mall, exactly like it was when I was a kid. The smell of Auntie Anne’s pretzels hits me as soon as I walk in, along with the sight of teenagers flirting over Taco Bell and toddlers clinging to the same old rusty animatronic pony. I haven’t been here in years—partially because I’m on a tight budget and malls are temptation central.
But the nostalgia is hitting hard. I had my first kiss at the theater here. Mom bought me my first box of pads at the CVS. And I shaved my head for the first time before chemo right here at Supercuts. Nothing like watching your long curls hit the floor inpublic to make cancer extra fun. But enough of that. Today is about mother-daughter bonding, maybe even a massage. I walk into Nailed It, and it’s like stepping into a time capsule. Same cracked leather chairs, same eye-watering acetone fumes.
“Josie? Is that you?” Barb, my mom’s boss, rushes over and pulls me into a bear hug. I’ve always loved Barb—tall, bosomy, smells like vanilla, and gives hugs like she’s trying to absorb you into her ample chest.
