Page 89 of So Wild

Gill took the tablet from Nicole and squinted at it. “Can you change my profile picture? I look too old in mine.”

“That’s because you are old.” Sam took the tablet from him. “You did brilliant, Tabs.”

“Thanks,” her sister said, grinning from ear to ear.

Nicole leaned across the table and reclaimed her iPad. “Yes, it’s a good thing you came back. You were wasted down in Bondi.”

Tabby glared at Nicole and Sam felt tension ripple across the breakfast table. Her sisters had been doing a semi-decent job of keeping their opinions about each other’s lives to themselves, but the cracks were showing. Sam suspected they were one poorly worded comment away from an argument.

“How’s the social media stuff?” Noah asked and Sam could have kissed him for changing the subject.

Tabby stopped glare-chewing, long enough to swallow. “Yeah, we’re gaining ground. Four thousand on Insta and I’m updating Twitter, Facebook and Snapchat every day.”

“How’s the response?” Sam asked.

“Pretty good, still a lot of cunts on Facebook telling us we’re shit, but they’re getting drowned out by the nice stuff. Noah’s pictures are getting the most likes.”

Everyone around the table stopped eating to stare at her.

Sam pointed at the brick shithouse sitting across from her who alone was continuing to fork mattress-sized pieces of pancake into his mouth. “Noah? As in, that Noah?”

“Nah, I mean Noah from the story about the big fucking boat. Yes, that Noah. He’s hot and mean and buff. Girls are into it.”

“What about me?” Gil yowled with predicable outrage. “I’ve been lifting for three months. I’ve gained two kilos of muscle.”

Noah made a tiny snorting sound.

“I mean it!” Gil said. “Come in when I’m working on Alisha this afternoon and take a picture of me on my left side—”

“That’s Satan’s side,” Tabby interrupted. “Anyway, I could take a picture of you making out with Tom Holland and it wouldn’t get as many likes as Noah tattooing that girl’s thigh, because she’s trying to cover up her car-crash scars. That situation haseverything. Muscles, sympathy, the power of recovery, muscles—”

“Yeah okay, that’s enough. Let’s talk about something other than Noah’s muscles.” Sam looked at Nicole, wondering why she wasn’t bringing the meeting to order the way she always did when Tabby went off on a tangent. She didn’t appear to be listening, she was staring vacantly at her tablet and her cheeks were bright red again.

Sam rolled her eyes. Clearly she was going to need to be the Nicole in this situation. She shoved both fingers in her mouth and whistled. Everyone stopped talking and stared at her. “No one wants this meeting to go on forever, so can we get back on track, please? Nix, what’s next on the agenda?”

Her twin fumbled with her tablet. “Um…marketing, maybe? How we can use our social media accounts to translate into more sales, because right now none of our interactions are translating into profits.”

“Seriously, can you change my profile picture?” Gil asked.

Tabby threw a paper towel at him. “Stop seeking.”

Gill’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“It means attention seeking,” Sam explained. “It’s something Tabby came up with when she was a kid. Nicole has a good point, though. We’ve got all these people following us and liking pictures of Noah’s biceps, but we’re not getting any asses in the studio.”

“We just need more time,” Tabby said cheerfully. “Once I get our Insta account up to ten thousand, we should see some solid business. Besides, once you’ve won Fadeout, sales will boom.”

Sam exchanged an uneasy look with Noah. Of everyone who worked at Silver Daughters, he seemed to be the only one who knew how difficult it would be to get a last-minute slot at Fadeout—or how hard it would be to win even if she did get a guernsey.

“I don’t want to act like Fadeout’s in the bag,” she said. “What’s our strategy if I don’t get in?”

“I’m thinking a bare-ass, fully naked Noah tattooing a hot pink kitty onto a breast cancer survivor?”

“Tabby!”

“Soz.” Tabby tapped her fork against her chin, leaving small golden streaks of honey. “Well, the other thing that’s doing good is the feminist angle. Not as popular as Noah’s biceps, but close.”

Sam frowned. “Feminist angle?”

---