Dress 2 Impress: A Jennifer Cloud Novel (Jennifer Cloud Series) Page 17
“No problem. Ace owes me,” Gerry said with a nasty smile at Ace.
I didn’t have time to worry about what Ace was up to or be concerned with our departing travelers. Marco was starting to make groaning noises, and to be honest, I needed him back in 1985 with me.
“C’mon, Jennifer,” Jake commanded. “We’re wasting valuable time.”
“How am I supposed to transport all these people home?” I asked, uncertain of the circumstances I was now involved in. “Now I have Gertie, Traveler X, and a keyless Marco.”
“I’m sure Marco will help you find Caiyan once he regains consciousness,” Ace said. “Use your female ingenuity to persuade him.”
“You’ll figure it out.” Jake smiled a dimple-free, concerned, but let’s get the job done smile at me. “Remember, in order to transport back and forth, you’ll need to get out before the moon cycle starts to close.”
I nodded, and Ace added, “Yep, when the moon starts to wane, you only have a one-way ticket until it’s completely closed. Caiyan and Traveler X should be able to transport themselves, and you can bring Gertie and Marco back in one trip, unless you don’t get Caiyan’s key back, and then you’ll have to decide which stud you really want to shag.”
“General Potts doesn’t know about kidnapping Marco, does he?” I asked. “That’s why we’re not meeting at Gitmo.”
“The general gave orders to clean up this mess with no problems to the present day.” Jake looked worried. “I’m counting on you, Jen.”
Ace was standing behind Jake, nodding in agreement. The backstabber. Poor Marco. How was I going to deal with him? I didn’t have any cupcakes, and my ability to convince men to do my bidding was waning like the moon would be if we didn’t get a move on.
“Just remember, Jennifer. Do NOT do anything that will change the present. No matter what the consequences.” Jake gave me his most serious face.
I nodded. What was the matter with him? Of course I would protect our world. I took an oath, I signed a contract, and I made a promise to myself to be the best transporter I could be. How would I change the present, anyhow?
“Geesh,” was all I could think to say about my situation.
“Off you go now, darling.” Ace gestured toward the vessel.
I climbed in, frowned at the two men standing in front of me, and prepared for takeoff. I reached over, pulled the pillowcase off Marco’s head, and tossed it at Jake. I thought it would be scary if he came to while he was in the middle of a travel. He groaned slightly and leaned against the wall. Jake grimaced and closed the door.
I really didn’t like the clothing my vessel had selected for me when I dropped Gertie off earlier. I recalled a picture I had seen in the Tiger beat magazine. I focused on the location by the Hollywood sign and firmly grabbed one of the handles for support. I put my arm across Marco’s chest like my mom used to do when I was a child riding shotgun in her car. I said the magic word and tried to think relaxed and smooth thoughts. We started off well. Gently swaying back and forth. Marco made a few moans as I felt the vessel touch down in 1985. The problem was it didn’t stop moving. We were jostled around, and I felt it skid across the grassy embankment. Something sharp smacked against the front of the outhouse, and I heard a noise like a thousand prisoners banging their tin cups against the prison fence. I felt the vessel teeter, and then it fell backward, landing with a hard thud, knocking me against the back wall and throwing Marco on top of me. I opened one eye, and we were face-to-face. He was so heavy, and I was wedged in under him. I couldn’t free my arms to push him off. His eyes fluttered open, and the grogginess of the drug created a haze over his blue-diamond eyes. I knew those beautiful baby blues were going to turn to ice when he figured out what had happened.
“Marco,” I said.
“Mmmm, Jen,” he replied and moved his left hand to cop a feel over my left breast. He brought his mouth to mine and exploded in a deep, passionate kiss. I couldn’t help but respond to that one. It sent fire shooting straight to my groin and emanating outward. I knew any second my outhouse would catch fire and we would burn alive. It might have even been worth it, but my minute of passion was broken by the sound of Gertie’s voice as she wrenched open the door and stood staring down at us.
“Are you OK?” she asked. Then she saw Marco’s hand groping my boob, and she smirked.
He had dropped his head down on my shoulder, and I couldn’t move. “I can’t move—can you help?”
She reached down and pulled him up a little so I could get my arm free.
“What’s wrong with Marco?” she asked.
“He’s been drugged,” I said. “Help me get him out of here.”
We managed a push-pull maneuver until we had him off me. As I stood up, the outhouse was on its back, and we were balancing on the edge of a steep hill. We had taken out the chain-link fence that kept the trespassers from going down to the sign. The vessel had ripped up the posts, and the fence was holding us hammock-style, keeping us from going over the drop-off. Gertie and I managed to drag Marco out of the vessel, and we stood holding him up at the edge of the large hill. At least he was weight bearing and holding his head up now. Gertie and I looked at each other, wondering what the hell we were supposed to do now.
“Let’s take him over there,” I said, tipping my head in the direction of a flat area about three feet away. As we started to drag him, he opened his eyes and halted our progress. The drug was wearing off, and he had regained his balance. He stood looking at me. He was groggy and ran a hand through his sexy, mussed blond hair.
“Jen?” he asked in surprise. “Where am I?” Gertie and I loosened our grip on him, and he made a quick turn, toppled backward, and rolled like a link of sausage down the steep hill, coming to a stop against the giant L in the Hollywood sign.
“Shit, I probably killed him!” I carefully slid down the hill after him so I wouldn’t go ass over elbows and take a chunk out of the Y. “GERTIE!” I shouted for help.
“I’m coming,” she said, making her way down behind me.
Marco was lying at the bottom, face to the sky. His eyes were open, and he had a scrape along his right arm that was starting to ooze blood. It didn’t look like he broke anything on the way down.
Gertie met me at the bottom of the hill. “Wow, I had no idea these letters were so large.”
I was squatted down next to Marco, checking out his parts for injury.
“Is he going to be all right?” she asked.
“I think so. Aunt Itty made him a special potion that Gerry, one of the other defenders, put in his drink.”
Marco blinked a few times, and I leaned over him. “Are you OK?”
He sat up, slowly rubbing his head. “Yeah, but I’ve got a whale of a headache, and my arm hurts.” He looked down at his arm in awe. Wiping the blood off with a corner of his shirt, he seemed satisfied he was in one piece.
I helped him to his feet, and he swayed a little. Glancing around, he saw the sign, and a frown formed between his brows.
“Jen, please tell me that you kidnapped me for a sex-filled, all-night party in LA.”
I bit my lower lip and peered at him out of the top of my eyes. “Uhm, no.”
Gertie was standing next to me, looking confused. “You kidnapped Marco?”
“No, of course I didn’t kidnap Marco.” I scuffed my shoe in the dirt.
Marco looked at Gertie. “What year are we in?”
“It’s 1985.”
He flung his arms in the air. “Jesus, Jennifer. I told you I didn’t want to travel.” He stomped around a bit and then stopped dead in his tracks, reached for his neck, and froze.
I sucked in some air. “Jake thought it was for the best,” I said.
“You kidnapped me when I wasn’t wearing my key?” he shouted more than asked.
He stomped around a bit more, and then his voice crescendoed
up the scale. “I’m stuck in 1985 WITHOUT MY KEY!” He looked like he might strangle me, so I took a few steps back. Gertie was still watching in amazement. He marched up to me and grabbed my arm. “Call your vessel and take me back.”
I looked up at the top of the hill, and my vessel was gone. Lucky for me, it knew when to get the hell out of here. “Marco, I need you here.”
“I don’t want to be here.”
Gertie piped in. “We’re going to meet Rocksanna, the diva, singer, and movie star. Aren’t you interested?”
“No.”
“Please help, Marco.” I was begging, but I felt safer with him here. I didn’t know if Gertie and I could move around Los Angeles alone. I knew Marco came here frequently and his family owned a winery in Napa. “We can’t let an unidentified traveler run around causing problems. What if Mitchell gets him to mess up one of our lives?”
“I CAN’T HELP YOU WITHOUT MY KEY!” he shouted.
“IF YOU HAD AGREED TO HELP IN THE FIRST PLACE, YOU WOULD HAVE YOUR KEY!” I yelled back.
Marco reached out as if he was going to put the Vulcan death grip on me, then balled up his fists and rubbed them on either side of his head.
My eyes started to cloud, and I could feel my bottom lip tremble. What kind of agent am I? Crying at the first roadblock. As I mentally recited my mantra, Marco calmed down.
“Pretty please?” I asked again.
“With sugar on top,” came Gertie’s voice from behind me.
Marco crossed his arms and was silent in thought for a few seconds. “Here’s the deal. I want payment.”
“I’m sure the WTF will pay you whatever you want,” I told him, hoping there wasn’t a limit to my bribery.
“No,” he said, picking up a strand of my hair and sliding it through his fingers. “From you.”
Somewhere deep down my inner voice was jumping up and down with joy.
“What is it that you want from me?” I asked.
He raised a dark eyebrow.
“Marco, I can’t make promises like that.”
“No sex, no deal. I have needs, you know.”
Then the picture of Caiyan canoodling with Rocksanna flashed in front of my eyes, and I agreed. “Deal.”
Chapter 15
I t was after midnight, and we were stuck at the top of the Hollywood Hills with the lights of Los Angeles spread out before us like a field of diamonds reflecting off the stars twinkling in the night sky. It was beautiful, and if I weren’t on a mission that made my stomach queasy, I would have enjoyed being here with Marco. We climbed back up the hill and surveyed our surroundings. The fence was mangled, and I’m sure the park rangers would have a field day trying to figure that one out. Jake told me in a few years the security up here would be beefed up with satellite dishes, razor wire, and security cameras to keep trespassers from destroying the sign. A noise caught our attention, and we ducked behind a bush. Three teenage kids came down the small access road toward the sign. They were drinking cans of beer and acted like they might have started the night with more than just the cans in their hand.
“Whoa, look at that,” one of them said, pointing to the mangled mess of chain-link fence. They ran over to look.
Marco whispered, “Let’s go see how they got here.”
We circled to the top of the hill, keeping the kids in our sight, but staying out of theirs. Parked on the side of the small road that led down out of the hills was a red Chevy Camaro. The windows were down, and the seats were leather. Gertie and I snuck around to the passenger side and slowly opened the door. Marco slid into the driver’s seat.
“Are you sure you’re OK to drive?” I asked. “You fell pretty hard.”
“And you were drugged,” Gertie added.
Yeah, there was that. My inner voice cleared her throat and gave me a look of dissatisfaction.
“I’m fine. I have a fast recovery against drugs and falls.” He looked at me and smiled. “All my parts are working A-OK.”
I bit my bottom lip to stop it from quivering with fear. I wasn’t sure how or when Marco would want payment, but it made my knees shake. My inner voice, however, was scheduling an appointment to get a Brazilian wax.
The car reeked of weed and beer. There weren’t any keys in the ignition, and I frowned at Marco. “We don’t have the keys.”
Marco reached down to the left and released the hatch. He helped himself to a screwdriver he found in the back of the car. He used it to break the console on the steering wheel, and in three magic minutes, the car roared to life.
“Let’s go,” he ordered.
Gertie, who had been squatting next to me, pushed my seat forward and climbed in the backseat. We pulled away, spitting gravel from under the tires. It dawned on me that in my time I could have used my cell and phoned for help, but those kids would have to walk all the way down the mountain to get help.
We left the park, and Marco pulled over at a gas station. “Where should we go at almost one o’clock in the morning?”
I wasn’t sure. “Where would you go if you were a celebrity?”
“I would go to a party,” Gertie said, leaning in from the backseat.
“I need some water. That drug made my mouth dry,” Marco said.
I retrieved my money from Gertie and held up one of the one-hundred-dollar bills. “I’ll get this one.”
He raised an eyebrow at me as if to say, That’s not even close to the payment I have in mind.
I got out of the car before any more innuendos could begin. Gertie stuck her head out the window. “Get some gum, too, please.”
The gas station looked old to me. The pumps were devoid of the electronic readouts I was used to in my time. The flashy screens displaying ads were missing, and the price of gas was ninety-five cents. I entered the store, and the clerk peered at me over his newspaper. There was a glass refrigeration case in the back of the store, and as I approached the case, I caught a look at my own hair in the reflection off the glass. Gads. My bangs were sticking straight up, then made a sharp left turn over my forehead. A purple gauze headband peeked out through my massive hair and was knotted into a giant bow on the top of my head. I remembered asking the vessel to make some changes to my wardrobe. I guess that’s how Ace keeps his vessel from changing his clothes when he travels. I was wearing an outfit very similar to the one I had pictured in my mind. Black fishnet hose covered by a purple mini dress belted with two slim studded belts wrapped around my middle. The dress had a button-up lace panel across the front, which I hadn’t planned on, revealing a black bra. A stack of necklaces and a fishnet scarf hung around my neck, disguising my key. Both arms had bracelets from wrist to midforearm that clinked when I moved my arms. My hands had fingerless fishnet gloves that matched the lace on my top. The only part of the outfit I truly liked was the lace-up leather combat boots. I opened the door and searched for the bottled water. Rows and rows of canned soft drinks and juice glistened back at me. No Ozarka, no Dasani, and definitely no Voss. Along the bottom, I saw green glass bottles of Perrier. That would have to do. Two women about my age were checking out in front of me. One girl had bleached-blond hair that stood a mile high off her head. The other was a brunette with stick-straight hair pulled back in a headband. I reached up and adjusted the giant bow on my head.
“That was such an awesome concert,” one of them said, pulling me away from my narcissism.
“Totally,” the girl with bottle-blond hair responded. “Rocksanna was radical.”
My ears perked up at the performer’s name.
“Did you go to the Rocksanna concert tonight?” I asked.
“Yes, did you?” the girl with brown hair turned around and asked me.
“No, I didn’t.”
“You missed a great concert,” said the bottle blonde, and then she turned to pay for her items.
“We’re going again tom
orrow night,” said the brunette, looking me up and down. Maybe my outfit wasn’t in style. I didn’t have a clue. Gertie and I had read a few fashion magazines in our fast-paced research, but what if I’d overvogued it?
“Your dress is totally rad,” said the bottle blonde.
“Yeah, totally,” said the brunette.
The bottle blonde added, “We heard Rocksanna and her band are partying at the Choke Club tonight. The drummer is a dreamboat.”
Her friend nudged her. “Don’t tell everyone. We won’t be able to get in if the crowd is too big.”
They argued for a brief second, and I butted in. “One of my friends actually works for Rocksanna. Maybe he can help get us in.”
They stood, mouths open, staring at me. “Really?” they said in unison, as if this was the greatest day of their lives.
I paid for the waters and a pack of gum, and they followed me outside to the Camaro.
Marco saw us approaching and got out of the car.
They stopped dead in their tracks. One of them gasped, “Is that the dude who was on Highway to Heaven the other night?”
The other girl replied in a shrill giggle, “Oh, fer sure, I think his name was Paul Walker. He’s such a stud.”
There was a small tug on my heart because I was a big fan of the movie star, and Marco did resemble him a little. Paul Walker had died in a car accident, and millions of girls across the nation cried themselves to sleep at night.
“No, that’s my friend, Marco,” I told them as I waved off the air of melancholy.
Gertie had also gotten out of the car by the time we arrived. Introductions were made, and I passed out the water.
The girls were both named Christie, one with a K and one with a CH. Christie and Kristy. I could remember that, but I also stored them as the blonde and the brunette. We agreed to follow them to the club.
Everyone got in their cars, and we tailed the girls’ Honda Prelude into the City of Angels.
The girls took a right on Sunset Boulevard, and we followed closely behind them. The traffic was heavy for this time of night.