Page 121 of So Wild

“Oh?” Nicole put her hands on her hips. “Says who?”

“Me. I’m going for a smoke then I’ll load up the van.” He gestured to the green Krispy Kreme box on the front desk. “There’s doughnuts if you want them.”

With that, he headed for the door.

“We’re not Americans,” Nicole called after him. “We don’t eat doughnuts for breakfast!”

The door slammed shut without a response.

“God, what an arrogant asshole!” Nicole snapped. “I hate that he has a key. I mean, he shouldn’t have a key. Only you should have a key. And dad. When he gets back. What was he even doing here?”

“Making sure we’re safe, I’d imagine.” Sam wandered over to the Krispy Kreme box and flipped it open. Noah had gotten all vanilla crème ones, like a weirdo, but it was better than no doughnuts at all. She selected one and bit in.

“But he doesn’t need to be protecting us!” Nicole went on. “I told him Scott’s father’s in the hospital at Malvern. What possible need could we have for him to act as our unofficial bodyguard? I swear, if he tries to bill us even one hour in overtime I’m going to…do something about it.”

Sam stifled a yawn. “Nix man, can you shut up about Noah already? It’s early and I don’t give a shit.”

“All I’m saying is he’s wildly unprofessional. We don’t need him to drive us, I said ages ago that I’d…”

As her sister talked, Sam noted the hot blush burning on her cheeks, the way her hands kept fluttering like trapped birds. Then the penny dropped. Her sister hada crushon Noah. Sam stared at Nicole in wonder. This made no fucking sense. Nix had always, always been attracted to straight-laced social climbers. Pretty boys who were as vanilla crème as the doughnuts in front of her. Yet the impossible had occurred. She had a thing for a big tattooed, monotone bruiser. She took Nicole’s hand and shook it to get her to stop talking.

“Here’s the thing, woman. Are you horny for Noah? Is something about his wordless angst doing it for you?”

“What?” Nicole shook her hand away as though it were red-hot. “No! How dare you! I’mengaged,remember?”

She flashed her ring as though there was a chance Sam could have forgotten about fuckface Aaron from Adelaide.

“I know you’re engaged,” she said. “But you’re clearly crushed out on Newcomb, so what’s the deal?”

“Piss off!” Nicole strode away without another word, her heels clicking loudly on the floorboards. Sam considered going after her and forcing her to tell the truth, but she still hadn’t looked over the machines and that had to take precedence over whatever was going on between her top tattooist and her twin sister. Besides, she could observe them in the car and try to get a better read on the situation. That might be easier than talking to them.

Twenty minutes later and her gear was safely loaded into Noah’s van along with a thermos of hazelnut coffee and the rest of the doughnuts.

Sam climbed in, trying not to think about Scott. She’d refrained from calling him on the landline and the temptation to run back inside and do it before she left was overwhelming.

Noah started the weary sounding engine. “Where’s Kelly? She’s your model today, yeah?”

“Tabby’s picking her up at ten and meeting us at the exhibition centre,” Sam said. “Neither of them are morning people. In fact, Tabby once kicked me in the face for trying to wake her up, remember Nix?”

But Nicole pretending to be engrossed in her phone, a fresh blush blazing across her cheeks.

Sam rolled her eyes. “Okay, whatever. Let’s go already.”

They arrived at nine to find the exhibition building already bustling with organizers, tattoo artists and their entourages. Most of the tattooists Sam knew on sight. Some—like Jerry from Black Tie—smiled and said hello. Most just pretended they didn’t see her and kept looking at their phones. Nicole and Noah set off to get her gear through the check-in area and an assistant with bright red hair steered Sam into a side room for a briefing.

“Okay,” a short man in a suit said. “This your first Fadeout?”

“I’ve attended a few times. Done a few other comps, as well.”

“Great, well this shouldn’t be too different from other comps, but there’s a few specifics. We’ll have seventeen cameras operating in the main hall, and three hosts walking around interviewing you at random. When you get approached by a host, you don’t have to have a deep and meaningful with them, but we expect you to respond. Non-compliance will affect your overall score.”

Sam fought the urge to smile, as she wondered what moody bastard had made them put that rule in place. She knew artists who jabbed at you with the tattoo machine if you didn’t stop talking to them mid-job.

“You need to operate with the impression you’re being filmed at all times,” the short man continued. “That means keep any and all offensive unPC shit and bitchiness about the other artists to yourself.”

“Sure.”

“Key performers, AKA people we think might win, will be pulled aside for one on one interviews later but I’m letting you know right now you should consider your USP carefully.”

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