Brock stopped the car next to the curb in front of her, since Mads made no gesture to move. I rolled down my window and leaned out. “You looking for a good time?” I said, channeling my inner Micah. I’d been hanging around the Elite too long. They were starting to rub off on me.
Her smoky eyes glittered as she finally stood and walked to the car. “I’m not into kinky threesomes.” Her gaze shifted to Brock’s.
A memory of him flashed through my mind from the first night I’d met Ava and the bitch cornered me in the bathroom. I had stumbled upon Brock with a chick, and he had asked if I wanted to join.
“You’re missing out.” Brock smirked like he knew what I was thinking about.
Mads’s gaze swept over me. She angled her head to the side, exhaling. A ring of smoke puffed from her lips. “She can’t go to a race like that. We need five minutes.” The car door opened, and Mads stepped back.
“What’s wrong with how I look?” I asked, pouting a little as I glanced down at my usual jeans and T-shirt. Sure, I wouldn’t win any beauty pageants, but I didn’t see what the big deal was. It was a race. At night. Who would see me? I’d been to plenty before.
“Maddy,” Brock rumbled, as if Mads was trying his patience.
She took one last drag on her cigarette, not giving a shit, and flicked it over the roof of Brock’s car. “Five minutes, Taylor. She needs it.” Mads grabbed my hand, pulling me into the shop. “Come on, girl, let’s get you fixed up.”
“You don’t have to do this. I’m not sure going to this race is even a good idea,” I protested.
Mads’s firm grip remained unwavering. She wasn’t going to let me back out. “If the Elite are involved, it is never a good idea, which is precisely why we are going.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Neither do french fries and chocolate shakes, yet they are fucking great together.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Trish, I forgot something in the back. We’ll be just a few minutes,” Mads said the girl behind the counter inserting tags into a pile of folded pants.
The college-aged girl smiled as we walked by. “Sure thing. Your mom is still taking inventory.”
I followed Mads into the back room of the shop. Racks and racks of new clothes freshly pressed lined the walls. Mads fingered through the pieces, pulling out a few items. Five minutes turned into ten. I walked out of Madison Clarke Boutique in pair of tight jeans, which I’d already been wearing, a red crop top that somehow made the amber flecks in my eyes brighter, a black leather jacket, and a seriously kickass pair of heels. Mads teased my hair, adding volume and texture to it. She made quick work applying a little bit of makeup, mostly mascara and eyeliner to darken my eyes. The bruise on my cheek was mostly gone and completely invisible with a tad of concealer.
I turned in the mirror.
Hot damn, I felt badass. “God, I needed this.”
Mads admired her handiwork, taking the full view of me in from head to toe. “Yes, you did.”
The heels on my black booties clicked with confidence as I strutted over the sidewalk toward Brock’s SUV. His gaze devoured me, and my lips twitched when I watched them darken in appreciation. “What did you do to her?” he snapped to Mads.
She slid into the back seat. “I made her fucking hot.”
The scowl on his lips increased. “No.”
“No, what?” I grinned, loving the way his eyes flared at me. His lips and tone were disapproving, but his eyes betrayed him.
“Don’t toy with me, Firefly,” he deadpanned. “You can’t go like that.”
“Yes, she can,” Mads insisted as she fastened her seat belt. “Now put the car in gear before we miss the take-off.”
Brock held up a finger. “Maddy, I’ll get to you in a minute.”
She ignored him and replied snottily. “Okay,Dad.”
I angled my head toward Brock. “Since when do you dictate how I dress?”
“You’re not her keeper,” Mads added, the two of us ganging up on him.
With a shake of his head, he rebuffed. “She doesn’t need the attention.”