‘Hmm?’ Cam grunts in response, already on the cusp of sleep.
Anika gives a breathy laugh. ‘That we’re going to your bloodyfilm premiere. That you wrote a film and it’s going to be in thecinema, and that we’re going to thepremiere, in, like, a matter of hours.’ Cam’s sleepy laughter joins hers with each incredulouslyemphasised word. ‘And more to the point,’ she continues. ‘That I’ve got to find a dress and put together a DJ set, and it’s …’ She lifts her head up for a moment to look at Cam’s digital bedside clock glowing green in the darkness. ‘Nearly two in the morning.’
‘I told you, I believe in you, Ms Lapo,’ Cam says sleepily. ‘Nothing ignites you like a challenge. I lie?’
She knows he’s right. It’s disconcerting how well he seems to know her. The rumble of his drowsy chortle guides her towards a drifting slumber. Just before she falls asleep, Anika realises something: it’s tomorrow. Back at the restaurant, just before the clock ticked over past midnight, she added the note about the DJ set to the end of her diary entry.
But she never wrote a single word about everything that happened tonight with Cam.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Sunday 5th August
The following evening at the post-premiere party, Anika surveys the dancefloor, swallowing a sip of the vivid blue custom cocktail that has been made especially for the event, an ode to the alcopops that were a teenage staple during the era in which Cam’s film is set. This version is decidedly more delicious. The place is just starting to fill up – she left Cam glad-handing in the backstage area of the multiplex to come and set up. The screening went incredibly – she could hear cheers and applause go up as the credits rolled. Her eyes feel like they’re still adjusting after the barrage of camera flashes from when she walked the red carpet with Cam a couple of hours earlier. It was a thrill to see him in his element – relaxed, looking completely delicious in his custom designer suit, joking with the photographers. He made a conscious effort to keep introducing Anika and making sure she was cool, too, which she appreciated.
But now it’s crunch time. Even with her affirmations locked in, Anika is a little anxious as her DJ set starts to ramp up. Yet with each musical selection, she’s starting to feel how, like with the diary, she’s taking control of the night and moving it in the direction she wants. Right now, the vibe requires ‘mellow but unusual’. She hits a perfect blend between records and …
‘Scuse me?’ Someone is shouting at her from the side of the DJ booth.
Anika moves one headphone cup off her ear and leans down tohear the guy over the volume of the music she’s playing. ‘Uh, is this Solange? I’ve not heard this.’
The singer’s voice is indeed gliding over a vintage Kanye beat from before things went left for him – a bootleg that took Anika an age to find. The guy interrupting her mixing is trying to play it cool, but he’s clearly impressed. She doesn’t intend to give away her secrets. ‘Yep, it is,’ is all she says with a smile, leaving him to turn back to his boyfriend, who is desperately trying to Shazam the tune before it runs out.
Anika is running on pure adrenaline and the energy of the music she’s playing, having got only a few hours’ sleep despite the comfort of Cam’s bed. Thank God for her credit card and a fortuitous swing through a high-end vintage shop on her way home earlier today – she’s feeling sexy and confident in the golden-yellow, bias-cut silk slip maxi-dress she found. She spent most of the day ruminating on what she was going to play this evening. Anika didn’t want to plan thingstoometiculously; she knows the importance of letting the crowd and ambiance dictate where she goes with her DJ set. But this opportunity has felt like an eternity in the making and she doesn’t want to mess it up.
At first most of the steadily growing crowd in the after-party venue is taking advantage of the free bar while they still can, abuzz with rapturous reception toEnd of the Day. Despite what Shamz said, she and Cam did stay to watch most of the film again with the crowd. It was just as powerful the second time around, maybe even more so, and Anika didn’t begrudge Cam staying to commune with his adoring audience afterwards.
As the dancefloor begins to fill up and the bar area becomes increasingly crowded, Anika senses it’s time to start upping the tempo. She segues into some classics as an ode to the film, grinning as the crowd simultaneously ‘ayyys’ and several gun fingers reach into the sky as the remix of ‘They Don’t Know’ rumbles into the speakers. Keeping the nostalgia going, after afew more grime cuts she moves into some 90s/00s stuff from the US – Missy, some Biggie, some Tweet – before taking itproperlyclassic with some Earth Wind & Fire, a left-field James Brown record, then back to the UK via some Bugz in the Attic, a Kele Le Roc bootleg …
The flow feels incredible and Anika knows she’s got the crowd in her hands when more and more guys come up to the booth, ogling her curiously and trying to see her Serato screen. She misses her vinyl, but there was no way she was hauling those around when a USB stick would fit in her clutch bag. The music pulsates around her through the state-of-the-art sound system, elevating Anika’s heart rate in time to each beat, and, as she slips her headphones fully on again to blend one record into the next, she feels the timelessness and beauty of being in a communal space with each human body being moved by rhythm. Sweat beads lightly on her forehead as she shimmies for a moment, letting herself be swept away by the joy of it all.
She looks up just in time to see Cam finally arriving amid a surge of ecstatic greetings from the crowd. He feigns being knocked out as she blows him a kiss, but then she loses sight of him as she concentrates on her mix. All too soon it’s time for Anika’s final selection. She decides on a Peven Everett house record and when the drums drop, they send the crowd wild, everyone dancing even harder than before. The main DJ is hovering behind her, unwinding the cord from his headphones and generally trying to intimidate her, but Anika knows how well her set has gone down. Nostalgia is a currency she understands intimately and she traded it for the gold of moving feet tonight. The words in her diary have taken over once again.
Cam dances through the crowd towards the front of the DJ booth, reminding her just how much control he had over those waist movements last night.And this morning, too …Flushing, Anika points back at him as Cam wordlessly points at her whilenodding emphatically. The track she’s been playing builds to its euphoric final crescendo and Anika relinquishes the decks to the other DJ, on a high. Cam sweeps her into a mildly drunken embrace after making his way into the booth to congratulate her.
‘Absolutely fuckingdecimatedit!’ he says into her ear, his breath sweet with Jack and Coke. He kisses her deeply, the pride in her triumph heady. Anika kisses him back enthusiastically, and a laugh escapes from her mouth and into Cam’s as his hands skim down the silky material of her dress to caress her behind.
‘OK, big boy,’ she says, pulling back from him a little. ‘There’s cameras about, you know, and you’re the man of the hour.’
Cam puts an arm around her shoulders. ‘Man of the hour, woman of the moment. This needs to be captured!’ he says, and Anika can’t help grinning. ‘Come, let’s get you a drink.’
For a split second Anika considers protesting, but she’ll have to call in sick to the office tomorrow regardless – there’s no way she’s making it in. Her notice period will be over soon anyway and while photographers plastering stuff online might make feigning illness harder to sell, she’ll make it work. This could even count as research for her new job, right?Besides, I have the diary.She’s already put various failsafes in place for tomorrow, just like her scribbled missive yesterday led to tonight’s set going so well. It already feels like a lifetime since the restaurant and things moving to this new level with Cam, especially now that his arm is around her like they’ve never been apart.
Normally she’d have been documenting everything on the group chat, but she’s avoided her friends since the argument yesterday evening. As Anika and Cam make their way through the now-heaving crowd of chic attendees from the film premiere and the hangers-on who have joined for the after-party, Cam pauses their progress when he passes Susan Enticnap, one of the women from the restaurant, squeezing her into a bear-hug as she congratulates him. Susan was clearly expecting a mediadouble-kiss, but Cam’s enthusiasm is infectious. Then a large group of the mandem stop him to pound fists and clap Cam on the back, and Anika tells him she’ll be fine to continue to the bar and grab a drink on her own. Cam’s reluctant to let her go but kisses her unreservedly before she departs while his boys crow and whoop.
When she finally arrives at the main bar, Anika sighs at the mass of people waiting for the waistcoated servers to get them. Then, with a jolt, she spots Shameeka. Her friend is standing a couple of feet away chatting to an executive-looking white man in an open collar and an ill-fitting but likely expensive suit. She can tell Shamz is bored but trying to seem engaged. Her friend looks up and catches Anika’s eye, and Anika quickly lifts her hand in a small, hopeful wave, which Shameeka returns. Just then a bartender finally leans over to ask what she’d like.
‘Er, could I get a JD and Coke,’ Anika says, ordering for Cam although he probably doesn’t really need another. ‘And a gin and tonic, please. Oh, and some water.’
‘A bottle or tap?’ the bartender asks.
‘Bottle. Sparkling, actually,’ she replies.
‘Ooh, splashing out,’ says a voice from behind her.
Shamz has materialised at her side and Anika turns to her, unsure if this is some kind of olive branch. ‘Er … I think they’re free?’
Shamz pretends to stroke a goatee. ‘No shit, Neeks.’
