The Hard Way (Box Set) (12 page)

“What the fu…” she groaned, then a huge shadow blotted out the light.

“You will be safe here… Jessica!” a deep male voice purred.

“Jessica?” She looked up and saw a creature who looked like the Rock’s older, more handsome brother staring down at her, and dammit, it looked like he was a few donuts shy of a dozen.

“I was sent to kill you, Jessica, but I find myself falling for you!”

Suddenly from nowhere, there came a deep bass of an orchestral hit.

Dum dum dummmm
.

Looking around for the band, she spotted no one. She looked up at tall, dark, and stupid to see if he would react to the sound, but he didn’t appear fazed at all. In fact, as the last notes died away, he continued speaking as if nothing untoward had happened.

“I desire you so much!” he breathed. “Jessica, I love you!”

“Um… you love me?” She stared at the man. Why were all the hot ones totally mad?

“You doubt my love? Let me prove it!”

He dropped to his knees and sank a bit into the damp earth, the look on his face determined and earnest. His hands gripped her knees, pulling them apart, tugging her damp and dirty formerly white terry cloth robe aside.

All her startled and confused mind could come up with to counter this was, “But I’m still in my shoes!”

“Kinky!” he purred. “I like it!” Then his head dropped and he began to dine on Shaquandra tartar!

Okay, she decided as her toes curled in her tacky shoes. Maybe she could be Jessica in this dream, just for a little while. His warm tongue caressed her sensitive skin, making her squirm on her ass in the wet grass and not even give a damn. His breath wafted over her, sending her juices flowing as her desire for a real tongue-bath rose.

“You smell so divine,” he whispered. “Can I taste you? Please? Can I lick you here?”

His fingers gently caressed her throbbing clit, sending her breath hissing from between her teeth.

Good figment of my imagination
, she thought as she bit down on her lower lip.
Damn good figment
.

She spread her legs wider, inviting him to do more, to explore, to take her to a higher level of arousal. As far as dreams went, this one was not that bad.

Then his finger was rubbing, playing with the moisture on her pussy lips, gently circling her opening before thrusting in deeply.

“Oh… oh… God!” she gasped, clenching fistfuls of damp grass in her hands.

Her moisture ran over his fingers, dampening the back of her robe as well as leaving her inner thighs shiny and slick.

“More?” he asked, adding a second thick finger to the first, rotating them gently, scissoring them and stretching her for the taking.

“Yes, please,” she gasped politely in between harsh breaths as her back arched up, thrusting her whole burning groin in his direction.

“As you wish.”

He parted her with those teasing fingers, exposed her thrumming clit and her swollen lips, and leaned in closer to get a bigger taste.

But before things could get any more interesting, a voice from over the green hills called to her. “Jessica!”

The Rock, Jr.’s head popped up from lapping at the skin of her upper thighs, and he glared over his shoulder in the direction of the voice.

“I’ll return, my love,” he purred again, then the magical vibrating tone withdrew. In a flash, he totally withdrew from between her legs, and he was gone.

Shaquandra turned toward the sound of that high pitched female voice screeching her name, and just stared at what she saw.

A team of limos -- did limos come in teams? -- was headed in her direction, a wildly waving woman hanging from the rear side window of the one in the lead. “Jessica!”

She blinked, as the woman seemed to float from the car to her side, gently patting her arm while scolding her soundly.

“Why did you wander off? We were looking for you. And you fresh from a plane crash, too!”

“Um, who are you?” This was getting maddening. One person would go. Another would take his or her place, and the confusion continued. This was one really fucked up dream! “And what plane crash?” Well, a crash would definitely explain all the screwy things rolling through her head.

“You don’t remember?” The woman looked near to tears, then she smiled a smile that Shaquandra was sure was unflappable. “Of course you don’t remember! You’re distraught after your crash, and you being the only survivor as well. I am your baby half sister Jennifer!” The smile got brighter.

Shaquandra’s headache grew worse.

“Half sister?” This woman was as white as new driven snow and as blonde as a bottle of bleach, and she was supposed to be Shaquandra’s sister?

She looked down at her own cocoa colored arm, then back at the vanilla colored woman.

“Yes, half sister, Jessica!” The woman threw out her arms in a way too melodramatic manner as she delivered her next line. “Welcome to Prefect City!”

The limo ride was uneventful, and that was saying a lot for a black woman who was now the proud possessor of a blonde baby sister who just happened to be rolling in dough.

But as Shaquandra was handed her first mimosa of the day, she decided this wasn’t all bad. She tuned out the other woman’s prattle, and instead mentally went over things in her head.

Okay, she was in some kind of Latino-liquor hallucination. Now that she was rich and stuck in this particular fantasy, it didn’t seem quite so bad.

She decided to ride it out as far as it would take her. And maybe if she hung in there long enough, the Rock, Jr. would make a return and actually finish what he’d started. The damp on the back of her robe was not all mud and morning dew… and was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

She paused in those thoughts as they pulled up in front of a building swarming with reporters.

“Media savages,” Jennifer groaned, her eyes narrowing in anger as she spied the ravenous horde of paparazzi circling the team of limos. Voices cried, “Where is the heir? Bring out the heir! Roast her alive with garlic butter!”

Okay, she imagined that last one, but from the way they were saluting, she couldn’t be too far off.

“Okay, you stay here and I will go and rout them at the gate.”

Shaquand… uh, Jessica, nodded and placed her empty champagne flute in the built-in bar.

“You may want to clean up a little. I see the owner of the Prefect Press and the leaders of about three other worldwide media organizations here.” With one last smile, the blonde bopped away, slamming the door shut before the reporters swarmed that particular limo.

Taking Blondie’s advice to heart, Shaquandra looked around the cabin, determined to at least fix herself up a bit. After some exploration, she discovered a pull-down vanity, and to her surprise, she looked absolutely… perfect!

Her eyes were perfectly aligned, her brows perfectly arched. Her lips were perfectly dewy and supple, while her skin was perfectly flawless. Her hands perfectly soft, her nails perfectly manicured.

The only issue she had was with her hair, which was perfectly done up in rollers -- big, silver-dollar-sized rollers.

“What the hell?”

Before she could even move to pluck the damn things out of her hair, the limo door was flung open and a red-haired female stuck that red head inside.

“Ack!” Jessica squawked as the strange woman smiled at her. That smile was familiar, but who the hell was she?

Jessica backpedaled in her seat, falling from it to the floor as the grinning woman grinned harder.

“Of course you’re jumpy,” she crooned as if speaking to a wild animal. “You just survived a plane crash!”

“Uh, Jennifer?”

“Yes! Yes, Jessica, yes!”

Well, Jessica reasoned, she had that same overly perky attitude. Strange, but it did appear to be her long-lost, very white, baby half-sister.

“You look lovely, and they --” she gestured to the waiting media, “are waiting.”

Sucking in a deep breath for courage, Jessica stepped out of the limo and into a sea of perfect faces, each one flashing a fake, smarmy smile and resembling a Stepford Wife.

“Jessica! Over here!” they shouted. “Jessica! A word!”

Swallowing deeply and wishing she had some Latino courage in a bottle at hand, Jessica stepped out into the limelight.

She was only given a brief glimpse of the building, managing to take in its tall imposing façade, before she was rushed right through into a massive lobby, her heels clicking as she struggled to keep up with her now red-haired half sister. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a wall of perfect reporters held at bay by two tall, unfazed security officers.

Well, she thought, back at home, they would have run over the security, rushed the front doors, and all but assaulted her with their microphones, photographers, paparazzi, and other assorted media filth.

Strange. They were behaving just like this was a soap opera, kind of like reality, but candy coated and sanitized.

“This elevator will take us to the offices,” the now redheaded Jennifer cooed as she pulled Jessica toward a bank of crystal elevators lining the far wall.

A huge portrait hung above them, seemingly hovering over the bank of three elevators. “Holy Hanna!” Jessica gasped.

“That’s Daddy.” Jenny clapped her hands, staring almost reverently up at the lifelike portrait. “Isn’t he handsome?”

“That’s one way to describe it,” Jessica allowed, staring at the stern, imposing man. He looked like a Baptist preacher dropped in the middle of a drunken whorehouse orgy on Easter Sunday, where his wife and daughter were the main attraction.

His eyes were a flat, depthless brown, condescending eyes that were faintly accusing and looked nothing like her.

“Handsome and brave,” Jen gushed. “You know, he never married our mother?” Jessica blinked as suddenly the air was filled with the whining sounds of violins and piano.

She looked around to see if anyone else noticed, but then a beauty light, of all things, shone down on her white, illegitimate, and apparently half sister. It made her huge blue eyes seem even larger and cast a liquid sheen over them. She turned away from Jessica, only to turn rather dramatically again, arms clasped to her bosom as she began to speak rather quickly, but with too much feeling. “He spent his whole life searching for you, Jessica. He spent a fortune in Dramamine and seasick pills, but he never gave up his dream of sailing down the Tigris and finding you.”

Just as abruptly, the music ended and the bouncy redhead was back. “We have to get you upstairs to sign these important documents.”

“Um.” Jessica was growing more confused by the minute. “What documents?”

“I don’t really know.” Jennifer sighed. “But I know that they are important and vital and you need to sign them so the plot can advance.”

“What?”

“You need to sign them so that the company will continue running the way it is. You see…” The same whining music started up again. Damn, Jessica thought. “Father left the whole company to you.”

“Again with the beauty light,” Jessica grumbled under her breath as she watched Jennifer do that melodrama thing again.

“He was so sure of your existence, that he left everything to his baby Jessica. So you have to sign the papers, ensure the company runs, keep it out of the hands of the evil Brad Cantkillum, and save the migrant bean farmers! Okay?”

Jessica stared for one long moment, as everyone seemed to lean forward, waiting for her response.

“This is worse than the most cheesy of soap operas,” she finally said after again looking at all the too-perfect people surrounding her.

Then it dawned on her. Soap opera! Her wish! The cigar smoking personal paternal god-fairy thingies were
real
. They had granted her wish. She was now in -- what was the name of this stupid town again?

“Prefect City,” she giggled as she turned and damn near pulled Jennifer to the elevators, “here I come!”

* * *

The bank of elevators opened straight into a huge boardroom.

“Nice,” she purred, all but dancing into the room, despite her gaudy spiked heels. She began touching the huge leather chairs and the huge mahogany tables. “Fine Corinthian leather,” she intoned, running fingers over the dark brown chairs.

“Yes,” a deep, feminine voice said from behind her.

She turned just as there was a huge
bumm, bum, bummm
bass hit, and saw…

Another miniature Jennifer. But this one had black hair and eyes.

“Jamie!” Jennifer gasped, hand clutched to her chest as she spun around to face the other woman.

“So, you found her,” this Jamie person growled as she began to stalk around Jessica, eyes taking in the tattered robe and the slinky heels. “Doesn’t look like much.”

Jennifer gasped, and Jessica just rolled her eyes.

So this was her arch enemy. Kind of scrawny, she decided, watching the petite brunette walk around her like a big cat sizing up her next meal.

“Am I supposed to start the prerequisite cat fight now?”

Jamie glared at her. “You are just supposed to sign those papers like a good little girl and then disappear.”

“Little girl? Honey, you don’t know who you’re talking to. I am --”

“One of the most exquisite creatures that I have ever encountered,” another voice, a male voice, chimed in.

This man was tall, pale, blond, and had eyes that reminded Jessica of a wolf. A hungry wolf.

“Is this your sister, Jamie? The one everyone has been searching for?” He stepped deeper into the room, his eyes on Jessica as he too played a round of walk around the black woman. But unlike with Jamie, his eyes spent a great deal of time resting on her ass and hips.

“Yes,” Jennifer gushed, breaking the tension building in the room. “And she needs to get cleaned up before the stockholders get here. Then she can sign the papers ensuring that our makeup company remains the best in the country.”

“I’ll take her up.” Jamie’s sudden outburst was odd and kind of creepy, considering it seemed like the woman had hated her on sight. But Jessica decided it was all part of the soap opera experience, and it was best to go with the flow. It wasn’t like she didn’t know how these things worked out. She’d watched so many soaps since she’d been laid off that she could have written one of the things in her sleep.