Pirate Dave and his Randy Adventures (Career Ending Romance Spoof) by Robyn Peterman Page A

were quite the pair.
    “That’s for me to know and you to find out in the sequel,” I said. As if.
    “What’s the sister’s name?” Cecil asked.
    What the hell was it with these people and names? “Laverne, her name is Laverne.”
    Cecil gave me a big shit-eating grin. “Laverne and Shirley? You named them Laverne and Shirley?”
    If he wasn’t connected to the viper bitch whore from hell, he might just be okay . . . but he was with her, and therefore he was the enemy. “Yes.” I couldn’t help but return his grin. I could hear the stifled giggles from behind me. Evangeline looked confused and pissed about being left out of something.
    “What are you idiots laughing at?” she snapped. “This is based in truth. I remember reading all about this in high school. Rena has no imagination! She just looked up facts and is trying to make you think she’s created a masterpiece.” Her voice was shrill.
    My God, she was stupid and evil, never a good combination.
    “Jeeves—” She unconsciously grabbed both of her breasts and her eyes got glassy. The images she was embedding in my brain would take years of therapy to remove . . . and I thought his name was Cecil. “We’ve not done a paranormal yet. They’re very popular right now,” she hissed with excitement. “This will be my crowning glory! I will be bigger than Jackie Collins!”
    Cecil-Jeeves nodded and continued to write. Wait . . . was it really a good idea? I basically just coughed up a hairball of idiocy and she planned to turn it into a New York Times best-seller? You know, maybe it was good. The whole time-traveling vampire warlock thing hadn’t been done yet. I’d just come up with the next big thing and this over-Juvédermed shrew was going to steal it. I’d never read a romance novel about conjoined twins. It was a huge market that had never been tapped. I had just come up with the new Twilight, and it was slipping through my fingers. This would make a riveting movie. What in the hell was I thinking, giving my entire future away like that? The whole separation of the twins and the murder plot was truly inspired. There was absolutely nothing like it out there. Thank God I hadn’t told her about the teacher and the convict bus driver—that would be a hit for sure. She was going to steal my story and make millions off it. My millions. Damn it, that was not going to happen.
    “There’s just one little problem,” I replied sharply, cutting into her Jackie Collins fantasy. “It’s my idea and I’m writing the book.” Evangeline’s nostrils flared with fury and she glared at me. The little ladies gasped and without even seeing them, I knew they had huddled closer together in abject terror. Cecil-Jeeves raised an eyebrow and Shoshanna swallowed a laugh that ended up sounding like the first gag of someone throwing up.
    “You’re right, Rhonda”—Evangeline’s voice was like honey—“but you’re a nobody. Never been published. Sholulu here says you’re not even a writer.”
    It was funny how she couldn’t remember anyone’s name, but she could recall every word they said. I had a bad feeling Shoshanna’s comment would come back to haunt me.
    “When I said that”—Shoshanna leapt to my defense—“I was simply referring to her unpublished status . . . at the moment.”
    “Of course you were, Shoshanka.” Evangeline had turned on a dime. She now sounded sane, rational, and sweet. WTF? “Reba, darling—” She smiled and extended her claws to me. I so did not want to touch her, but politeness dictated my decision. I gingerly took her hands. I’m a good Midwestern girl, after all. Her hands were ice cold, and I tried to block out the fact that they’d been cupping her bosom only moments ago. “You’re right,” she continued gently. “It is your idea and it’s brilliant. I’d like to offer you something . . . something rare and special. Something I offer to no one. Would you like that, Rona?”
    “I don’t know,” I