Page 5 of Left on Read

Nick and I laughed and moved aside so Gray could get his costume.

“Oh my god! I just had the best idea.” Nick clapped excitedly.

“Uh-oh,” Gray and I said together.

“No, this is actually a good idea.” Nick flicked Gray’s shoulder as he stepped into his fireman pants. “We should start doing social media for the club!”

“Social media?” Gray asked.

“Yeah. For advertising. Insta and TikTok for sure, but maybe some other things. I need to talk to Quinn.”

“Quinn?” I asked.

“Yeah. He’s the expert. Do you know how many subs he has on his OnlyFans? His socials are insanely popular. He’d know how to post just enough to keep people interested, but not too much that we’d get our shit censored.”

“That’s not the worst idea,” Gray mused.

“Thanks.” Nick snapped Gray’s suspender. It cracked against his bare chest.

“Brat.” Gray pinched Nick’s arm.

“Takes one to know one.” Nick ducked away from another pinch.

“Gray!” someone shouted from the backroom just as the light in the prop closet flickered.

“Shit!” Gray shoved his arms into the jacket of his costume and sprinted out of the closet. That light meant he had thirty seconds before he had to be on stage.

“Should I even ask?”

My heart sank as Zane stepped into the closet.

“We’re doing a photoshoot for his dating profile.” Nick linked his arm with mine. “What do you think?”

“If that doesn’t get the ladies swiping right, I don’t know what will.”

I appreciated how Zane was playing along and trying to encourage me. I didn’t need a mirror to know I looked ridiculous in a flimsy fake hard hat and clutching a real hammer that looked giant compared to the plastic tools hanging from the comically small prop belt I was wearing. The slides on my feet did nothing to sell the look.

“Okay, less talky and more walky.” Nick shooed me out of the prop closet.

The next twenty minutes were as ridiculous as they were fun. We staged our “photoshoot” against a patch of blank wall in the corner. Since the room was tiny, everyone had a front-row seat as Nick zipped around in front of me, popping up on tiptoe and dipping down low, taking pictures like a pro and barking silly orders at me so I ended up in the weirdest and most unnatural poses possible.

“That’s it,” Nick encouraged. “More smiling, but not with your face, just with your eyes. Now lean forward, a little more. Hands on your hips and look off into the distance. Imagine you see a pile of free pizzas. Show me that. Make me feel it. Now look at the hammer, not with your eyes, just with your face. No smiling. I wanna see smolder. Smolder harder. That’s it, gimme more smolder.”

“More cowbell!” someone shouted.

A couple of the guys laughed. I didn’t get the reference.

“Cowbell?” Nick, Gray, and I asked, pausing the photoshoot.

“It’s from…never mind.” Knox, one of the older dancers, sighed dramatically. “It’s before your time.”

“Like the nineteen hundreds?” Nick asked, his face the picture of innocence.

“Just drive the knife in deeper, kid.” Knox put his hand over his heart.

Nick snickered. “You know we love you, old man.”

“Old?”

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