I had my hands joined under my chin, heart in my mouth as I listened. My name, Helen Jenkins, had been published in frigging Vogue.
“Jenkins is redefining what women aspire to wear with her tonal colours and clean lines…” Chrissie stopped abruptly, slapped the magazine on the counter in the front of my store. It didn’t really matter. I’d already read it. Twice. “Hel, this is amazing. I’m beyond proud of you right now.”
“Couldn’t have done it without you.” I meant that with my whole heart. As soon as I could afford to, I’d taken Chrissie on board as a manager, of sorts. She didn’t have an official title. It began with social media management, after I came to realise why Hugo detested it so much.
My relationship with Hugo became public knowledge. I was no longer his ‘plus-sized pal’ once we were snapped sharing a kiss on a yacht off the coast of Tuscany on one of the best days of my life. Initially, curiosity compelled me to click a few articles. That wore off soon enough when, inevitably, they made me feel like shit. After that, they were easy to ignore. I didn’t check out trending hashtags, only followed verified accounts, that kind of thing. The problem, it turned out, was the thousands upon thousands of angered teenage girls.
They claimed our relationship was a PR stunt, Hugo Hayes could never fall for someone who looked like a cross between Miss Piggy and, I quote, a “hippo’s ass”. They blamed me for Hugo’s breakdown, said they’d breakdown too waking up to a face like mine every day. He needed to focus on his music. I needed to die. They were obsessed. The literal definition of fanatical. It was relentless. And they’d tag my handles. DM my accounts. There was no escape.
Unfortunately, I needed social media to build my brand, spread my name, showcase my work. That’s where Chrissie came in. She’d suggested it, offered to take over the accounts in a professional capacity. She had no problem ignoring the outraged teens with fiery thumbs and would keep me updated with the positive and business-related news. Chrissie was brilliant and, as time progressed and the business grew, she started taking on other roles, too. It’s fair to say, by now, we were a partnership. She ran most of the administrative side of things. We spent so much time together, growing as a company and as friends. She’d become my sister. Family. I couldn’t imagine life without her in it.
“I think I was born for it,” Chrissie said, lounging back against the counter, one leg extended in front of her. “Being around glamour, mixing with the stars.” She sighed dreamily, then laughed.
“Like Liam you mean? He’s in town as of last night.”
She made a point of checking out the polish on her fingernails. “Is he?”
I shook my head, chuckled, knowing full well Chrissie had been counting down the days until Liam returned to the UK. Chrissie had known Liam for getting on three years now, and I still had no idea what they were to each other. I don’t think Chrissie did, either. All I knew was they met up whenever their schedules put them in the same cities, they’d shared a hotel room for a week when Hugo rented out the theme park in Santa Clarita again for a day, and she had David to entertain her in between.
“Umhm. He came in for Hugo’s birthday tomorrow.”
“Right. I had no idea,” she said, with the fakest nonchalance I’d ever heard. She must have checked each nail, in painstaking detail, five times over.
Standing, I plucked a tissue from a box under the counter and reached out to dab it against the corner of her mouth.
She pulled back, batting my hand away. “What are you doing?”
“Sorry…you just had a little bullshit stuck to your lip.”
“Funny,” she said, pulling a face. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be going to pick up Hugo’s present?”
I glanced at my Fitbit, a tool which had helped me shed thirty pounds this year, and noted the time. “Crap. Yes, I do. There are no more appointments today, just a pickup, so you’ll be okay on your own, right?”
“Still yes, just like the last fifteen times you asked.”
“Thank you,” I said, kissing her cheek. “I’ll call you later.”
My stomach had tied itself into a hundred knots waiting for Hugo to return from the recording studio. Due to the nature of this year’s gift, he would need to receive it a day early. It was hard knowing what to buy a man who could afford anything he wanted, yet marking his thirtieth birthday needed something special. The day felt even more important since the event two years prior. It wasn’t just a celebration of his birth, but of new beginnings. A celebration of Hugo and all he’d achieved; all he would continue to achieve.