Fucking Kooks.

This damn midsummer party happened every beginning of the summer season, and JJ could swear it was just to distract you rich folk from the needy outside your half of the Banks. Real people were working and struggling to make ends meet while those who controlled their own high class threw a soiree to lavish in their conceitedness, hundred dollar bills, and undeniable beauty. A lesson (more like an uprising) needed to occur, and what better way could there have been than the perfect party crashers?

With a pair on the inside — Kiara was, indeed, forced to attend this crapfest with her mother and Pope cooking with his dad — John B and JJ easily snuck their way into the event, dressed like waiters and hands upholding silver platters of hor d'oeuvres, which the blonde occasionally snuck into his belly. You rich bastards had enough, you could spare a snack or two.

Not a moment too soon of making a slick entrance—

"Oh, shit—" JJ sucked in a breath between his teeth, seeing his wandering mind left himself to bump right into you. The mini treats created a stain on your elegant outfit and with it, shock in your face. So much for staying under the radar.

"Club soda ought-a get that out for you, sweets. Maybe consider it an improvement?"