an Awards after party. She had been treating her assistant like a slave, not even acknowledging the poor guy by his name. After awkward introductions were made, I made a last ditch effort to play nice by complimenting her movie. She’d given me the most condescending smirk and said, “ You’ve seen my movie?”
Sure, I was sixteen at the time. And her movie was a highly existential Oscar bait romp, but it was the fact that she thought she was so amazing, so perfect, that only the precious few had a right to witness her performance. It made me hate her.
After I connected with Leila and learned that Rachel was also with my PR firm, Whitmore and Creighton (and had her sights on Leila’s boyfriend Jacob Whitmore), I had the best idea to put her in her place. Rachel had feigned interest in me for the cameras, probably hoping her philanthropist turn would woo the billionaire, so I forced her to make good on it. For two glorious weeks, I had been attached to her like glue. After finally snapping, she fled to Europe, claiming she needed a break from public life.
I picked at my cereal, my smile faltering. “Things were good.”
“And?”
I didn’t talk about Jenna to anyone. It was my weird way of protecting her from this life. A lot of good that did. My stomach flipped as I remembered Mom’s elated text. ‘Your sister’s on her way!’
My heart had stopped, like she’d just told me it was raining fire and locusts were eating her flesh. I preferred the apocalypse over my sister getting wrapped up in my mother’s schemes.
And then I tapped on the link.
If you think Mia Kent is hot, check out her sister, Jenna.
And there was my seventeen-year-old sister, blonde hair pulled back in pigtails, wearing a cotton candy pink bra and matching panties. Her fingers pulled at the g-string and her lips were parted slightly like she was a breath away from asking you to...to...
My chin trembled. “It’s my sister.” I put down my spoon, my appetite a distant memory. “Jenna.”
Leila popped up, her eyes wide. “Is she okay?”
“Yes. No. I mean, it’s not like that. It’s my mom.”
Leila’s eyes darkened. “Charlotte.”
Such an innocent name. Couldn’t be further from what my mother was.
I hadn’t told anyone, even my therapists, half of what my mother had done to me and my sister over the years. The tanning, the daily workouts, the diets, the weigh-ins, all of it paled next to her words. There’s nothing quite like the person that’s supposed to take care of you telling you that you must work to provide for your family. That cereal ad? That’s the rent. The insurance one? Groceries. The TV show that meant I’d never step foot into a real school again? That was keeping the family in the lifestyle we’d become accustomed to.
At the back of my mind, I always hoped I’d make enough so Jenna could lead a normal life. But when I saw that text with all the exclamation points and my sister with her dead eyes, I knew I’d been stupid.
Leila was waiting, and getting this out, saying it aloud, would set me free.
And then I heard a knock on the door.
I slumped against the counter, peeling my banana. I knew exactly who it was.
Leila peered at the door. “Do you need to get that?”
“Nope, she has a key that she’ll use in 3, 2...”
“Are you -?” The ‘decent’ was left unsaid.
Mom had walked in on me doing things a mother should never see her daughter doing, but unsurprisingly, it hadn’t changed her habit of busting into my apartment whenever she felt like it.
“Miss Montgomery.” Mom gave Leila a cold once over. “It’s a little early for Whitmore & Creighton, isn’t it?” She made it no secret that she thought she should be my Jill of all Trades –assistant, publicist, and slave driver.
Leila took it in stride. “Good morning, Mrs. Kent. How are you?”
“I’ll be better once I can spend some quality time with my daughter.” Mom didn’t bother with niceties.
Leila looked at me
Sure, I was sixteen at the time. And her movie was a highly existential Oscar bait romp, but it was the fact that she thought she was so amazing, so perfect, that only the precious few had a right to witness her performance. It made me hate her.
After I connected with Leila and learned that Rachel was also with my PR firm, Whitmore and Creighton (and had her sights on Leila’s boyfriend Jacob Whitmore), I had the best idea to put her in her place. Rachel had feigned interest in me for the cameras, probably hoping her philanthropist turn would woo the billionaire, so I forced her to make good on it. For two glorious weeks, I had been attached to her like glue. After finally snapping, she fled to Europe, claiming she needed a break from public life.
I picked at my cereal, my smile faltering. “Things were good.”
“And?”
I didn’t talk about Jenna to anyone. It was my weird way of protecting her from this life. A lot of good that did. My stomach flipped as I remembered Mom’s elated text. ‘Your sister’s on her way!’
My heart had stopped, like she’d just told me it was raining fire and locusts were eating her flesh. I preferred the apocalypse over my sister getting wrapped up in my mother’s schemes.
And then I tapped on the link.
If you think Mia Kent is hot, check out her sister, Jenna.
And there was my seventeen-year-old sister, blonde hair pulled back in pigtails, wearing a cotton candy pink bra and matching panties. Her fingers pulled at the g-string and her lips were parted slightly like she was a breath away from asking you to...to...
My chin trembled. “It’s my sister.” I put down my spoon, my appetite a distant memory. “Jenna.”
Leila popped up, her eyes wide. “Is she okay?”
“Yes. No. I mean, it’s not like that. It’s my mom.”
Leila’s eyes darkened. “Charlotte.”
Such an innocent name. Couldn’t be further from what my mother was.
I hadn’t told anyone, even my therapists, half of what my mother had done to me and my sister over the years. The tanning, the daily workouts, the diets, the weigh-ins, all of it paled next to her words. There’s nothing quite like the person that’s supposed to take care of you telling you that you must work to provide for your family. That cereal ad? That’s the rent. The insurance one? Groceries. The TV show that meant I’d never step foot into a real school again? That was keeping the family in the lifestyle we’d become accustomed to.
At the back of my mind, I always hoped I’d make enough so Jenna could lead a normal life. But when I saw that text with all the exclamation points and my sister with her dead eyes, I knew I’d been stupid.
Leila was waiting, and getting this out, saying it aloud, would set me free.
And then I heard a knock on the door.
I slumped against the counter, peeling my banana. I knew exactly who it was.
Leila peered at the door. “Do you need to get that?”
“Nope, she has a key that she’ll use in 3, 2...”
“Are you -?” The ‘decent’ was left unsaid.
Mom had walked in on me doing things a mother should never see her daughter doing, but unsurprisingly, it hadn’t changed her habit of busting into my apartment whenever she felt like it.
“Miss Montgomery.” Mom gave Leila a cold once over. “It’s a little early for Whitmore & Creighton, isn’t it?” She made it no secret that she thought she should be my Jill of all Trades –assistant, publicist, and slave driver.
Leila took it in stride. “Good morning, Mrs. Kent. How are you?”
“I’ll be better once I can spend some quality time with my daughter.” Mom didn’t bother with niceties.
Leila looked at me
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