was more powerful than my hatred for the bitch currently standing in front of me. So I relaxed my hands, forced a smile to my lips, and brushed past Jillian. “Sure. Whatever,” I called over my shoulder as I headed into the kitchen. I wouldn’t do anything that would make either of my true parents ashamed of me. At least not yet. But I was seriously reaching my breaking point. “I’m leaving at seven, so tell her to be ready. Marcus will be picking us up.”
Since I didn’t have my own car there, I had to either drive with Georgia or, thankfully, have Marcus pick me up. Both Jesse and Layla Thornton had insisted on it, acting as concerned for my wellbeing as they did their daughter’s.
Knowing that Jace wanted to talk, I took a little extra care with my makeup and what I picked out to wear. I showered, actually dried my hair with the expensive-looking hairdryer that was in my bathroom and even used a few of the products that Jillian kept in there in hopes I would actually ‘do something with that hair’ of mine. I hated admitting it, but the products left my hair feeling softer than ever and shining.
I dressed in my favorite pair of jeans, added knee-high, flat-heeled boots and the black Shinedown T-shirt I’d gotten at Carolina Rebellion the year before. For makeup, I didn’t bother with foundation, just put on a little extra moisturizer and did a smoky eye so my baby-blues popped out a little more. A few swipes of my favorite gloss that had my lips plumping up even more than usual and I was finished.
By the time I went downstairs, Georgia was already waiting by the front door with Jillian. I had to sink my teeth into the inside of my bottom lip to keep from bursting out laughing at what the girl was wearing. Seriously? I honestly couldn’t say if the clothes—if you could call them that—were better or worse than what I’d seen her wearing the night before.
Her hair was teased in an eighties-style kind of way that made me wonder if she was going to have to go to the salon the next day to repair all the damage she’d done to her hair to get it to look—and stay—the way it was right then. Her dress looked more like a camisole nightgown that was so low cut the only part of her cleavage was her nipples. The dress ended a few inches before her ass did, but she had on a pair of black leather shorts that covered her ass. Barely. Fishnet stockings covered her tan legs and she had on huge, clear heels that I was pretty sure her mother had saved from her days as a stripper.
I didn’t know if it was even legal to go out looking like that in any other places than Vegas and New Orleans during Mardi Gras. Would Tiny let us in with Georgia looking like that? I hid a smile as I pictured the big, yummy head of security tossing Georgia out while I went inside to watch Tainted Knights’ show.
“I want the cameras to get you both, so stand as close to Georgia as you can when you get to First Bass,” Jillian instructed as she reached out to fix a few strands of her oldest daughter’s hair that had dared to fall from its constricting, heavily hair-sprayed hairdo.
Definitely a hair-don’t. I nearly snorted but caught myself just in time.
“Make sure you tell the paparazzi who Georgia is, McKinley. We want them to get her name right when she’s in the tabloids in the morning and on TMZ tomorrow night,” Jillian said, continuing to fuss.
I turned away so she couldn’t see that I was rolling my eyes. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”
“I mean it,” Jillian suddenly snapped and grabbed my wrist so hard her nails bit into my skin. She jerked me around and glared up at me. “If I have to put up with you living under this roof, you’re going to do something that can benefit us.”
Respect your elders, Kin. Respect your elders.
I clenched my jaw, counted to ten and forced a smile for the bitch. “I heard you, Jillian. Now let me the fuck go.”
Her eyes widened at the way I’d just spoken to her and her hold tightened even more for a second before she dropped my hand like I was something poisonous. Refusing to rub my now aching wrist, I turned away from