Shanice Brown, Executive Vice President of International Shipping for Expedex, Inc., was in the damn clink.
Great. Just great. This was exactly what she got for trying to break out of her shell and get back into what most people called life and have some fun. Maybe even meet someone after her three-year self-imposed relationship hiatus. And for her trouble, she was in the local jail with sore feet, a jacked-up hairdo and makeup that had to look like hell by now.
And it was all her sister's fault.
Charli had talked her into getting her groove on at one of the local clubs. From the depths of her overstuffed closet, she'd pulled out a pair of fuck-me pumps, a skimpy leather skirt that showed off her toned legs and a modest but delicious snake print spaghetti strap tank top. Even in spite of the little jellyroll on her tummy, Shanice had felt downright sexy that evening. She'd danced and sweated—which was the fun part—and blown off corny pickup lines from men young enough to cause a scandal. While it had been utterly frustrating to learn her sister had picked a teeny bopper club, Charli had still been right—it had temporarily taken Shanice's mind off both work and how long she'd been without a steady boyfriend.
But bad luck and even worse timing landed her here with a bunch of women that looked like they could take on Mike Tyson in a fistfight.
The only thing that had gone right was the fact that she'd gotten talked into clubbing on a Sunday night. Which meant she only had to spend one night in jail before going in front of the judge on Monday morning, grateful not to have to spend another day wearing the same funky clothes.
The first order of business for the day was Shanice's case. Looking as rough as hand-cut wood, she stood when the judge entered the courtroom.
