The RevelationBy: Lauren Rowe
(Josh and Kat #2, The Club #6)
The door to Jonas and Sarah’s suite closes behind Josh’s back and I look down at Josh’s laptop, holding my breath with excitement. This is it. I can’t believe I’m finally gonna read Josh’s application to The Club, after all this build-up. My chest is tight. My stomach is in knots. What on earth did that man write that’s made him so skittish about revealing it to me? Well, I guess there’s only one way to find out:
“Joshua William Faraday,” he writes. Oh, I didn’t know Josh’s middle name is William. For some reason, seeing his full name makes my heart flutter.
With this application, you will be required to submit three separate forms of identification. The Club maintains a strict “No Aliases Policy” for admission. You may, however, use aliases during interactions with other Club members, at your discretion.
“OK,” he writes.
“29,” he writes.
I stop and think. Josh is thirty. I wonder when he had his birthday? I’d love to know his zodiac sign. Damn, it sure would suck donkey balls if it turned out we were cosmically incompatible.
Provide a brief physical description of yourself.
“I’m 6’1, 190 lbs. I’ve got brown hair and blue eyes and tattoos on my torso and arms. I prefer not to talk about the meanings of my tattoos at length, so please tell whoever gets assigned to me not to ask about them.
“I work pretty hard at keeping fit,” he continues. “I’m a big believer that a man only gets one chance at a first impression, so I try to make mine count, every time. Just to be clear: I’m not applying for membership to The Club because I have some sort of inferiority complex about my appearance (I don’t) or because I can’t attract women on my own (I can).”
I can’t help but smile. Even when Josh is being kind of douche-y, he’s sexy as hell to me.
With this application, you will be required to submit three recent photographs of yourself to your intake agent. Please include the following: one headshot, one full-body shot revealing your physique, and one shot wearing something you’d typically wear out in a public location. These photographs shall be maintained under the strictest confidentiality.
Oh, this I gotta see. I scroll down, assuming Josh’s photos will be attached to the end of his application, but they’re not there. I scan the top of the document, looking for some indication of where I can find his pictures—but, nope. There’s nothing. Goddammit! I grab my phone.
Josh answers my call immediately. “Wow, that was fast,” he says. “I’m only just now walking into the casino.”
“Where are your photos?”
“Yeah, the three photos you submitted with your application.”
“Oh, my photos.” He pauses. “Why do you want them? You already know exactly what I look like.”
“I just want to see them.”
“But you’ve already seen every inch of me—you’ve seen my YOLO’d ass, for Chrissakes.” He snickers. “Not to mention my balls.”
I join him in snickering. “Up close and personal.”
He snickers again.
“But I still wanna see your photos.”
He sighs. “How ’bout this? I’ll come back up there and let you take three photos of me any which way you want. We’ll have a photo shoot, just you and me, baby.”
“Ooh, sounds fun—I’ll definitely take a rain check on that offer. But I still wanna see the photos.”
He grumbles. “But why?”
“Because I wanna see what photos you thought would best represent yourself to perverts in a sex club.”
There’s a long pause. “You’re such a fucking pain in the ass, you know that? A terrorist and a colossal pain in the ass.”