A Wicked Game

A/N- Ok...so I'm kinda wingin' this one...not quite sure where it's going...I mean I have an idea but not for the whole story so bear with me and forgive any mistakes por' favor! :)

 *Revised*

“Goooood morning all; and what a beautiful Saturday morning it is!”

The small lump under the mound of covers slowly moved, exhibiting a groan, before a hand shot out from the blankets, blindly patting the surface of the nightstand near the bed until contact was made with the offensive interrupter of a blissful slumber.

“It’s a perfect day to go to the beach, go to a party, or even throw a little party of your own. Get the grill started!”

“Shut up.” The feeble protest, made by Charleigh Jacobs, was accompanied by slapping noises as her hand slammed down on her alarm clock.

“And if you have to work today…what a shame that is, but you better get to it before the day passes you by. Like now!”

A tussled mass of corkscrew brunette hair emerged from the large white down comforter. Charleigh shot her grey eyes to the alarm clock, miffed that she was the only woman in the world that apparently lacked the skills of multi-tasking.

Placing an index finger on the alarm clock’s button, she punched it to off with more force than necessary, enjoying the quick feeling of satisfaction that came over her when the chipper masculine voice was finally silenced.

After face planting back into her pillow for another five minutes, she reluctantly pushed the covers aside, and padded to the kitchen to start her coffee maker before jumping into the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, she was ready for work, but didn’t leave before checking her appearance once more. Dressed in dark blue jeans, a black tank top, and an oversized sweater, she could only imagine the censure she would get from her mother if she saw her.

Charleigh had never been considered pretty…she’d never even been called pretty. Her eyes were striking enough, but beyond that her features just didn’t match up, or so her mother told her.Her mouth was too wide, more like Julia Roberts’, and though she did exercise occasionally, she could never manage to stay in shape. What was shape anyway? Everyone had a shape. Why were there labels to what sort of shape women should have? Her mouth twisted wryly as she straightened her glasses.

‘You would look much prettier if you bought contacts, Charleigh. Look at your sister, she’s gorgeous, and she at least puts the effort into her appearance. You should be more like her.’

Charleigh would never be like her sister, Amy. It just wasn’t possible. For one, Charleigh was adopted. Mixed with Caucasian and African American, she stood out in a family of blondes. Her sister, however, was the epitome of perfection and she knew it. The people Charleigh had come to call mom and dad hailed her sister as a perfect being, and many men had thought so too…including the few that Charleigh had gathered the courage to bring home. Of course, that was a long time ago…

Shooting a quick glance at the clock in her kitchen as she took her first sip of coffee, she saw that she was going to be late…again.

“Danget,” she muttered, setting the coffee cup on the counter before swiping her purse, bounding out of the door and running down the steps leading away from her apartment.

“C’mon, baby…you can do it…start for mama.” Turning the key over a second time, the feeble engine of her ’79 Ford Fiesta whined and sputtered before once again, going silent. “Crap! Not today!” she exclaimed, turning the key over again.