Wish Upon a Star by Mindy Klasky Read Free Book Online Page A

projection. He was flesh and blood. Muscles rippled beneath his uniform, and I could feel the heat of his body across the inches that separated us. He raised his right hand, the one with the tattooed wrist. I could see the curls of hair on the backs of his fingers. No matter how impossible, no matter how bizarre, this guy was real.
    He snapped, and a sheaf of papers appeared in his hand, replacing his notepad and pen.
    “What the—” I tried to take a step away from him, but the granite counter dug into my back, effectively pinning me in place.
    “Your contract, ma’am.” He nodded as he handed the documents to me. I glanced at the top page. Party of the first part… Party of the second part… Do grant freely, for the consideration of time outside of said genie’s lamp…
    “Genie?” I croaked.
    “Ma’am,” he replied with a terse nod. Like that was any help.
    “But aren’t genies supposed to dress in robes? Flowing pants? A turban?”
    “Nine out of ten first-time wishers expect their genie to appear in classic form. Ongoing studies of genie efficiency, however, dictate appearance in the most recent guise, to facilitate prompt wish fulfillment.”
    This guy and Amy should get together—between her business school jargon and his cop talk, no one could understand either one of them when they really got going. Nevertheless, those last two words caught my attention. “Wish fulfillment?”
    He shifted position, anchoring his feet as if he were at parade rest. “You have the right to four wishes,” he proclaimed. “Anything you desire can and will be granted to you, absent any Ethical Interference Quotient, Physical Impact Vector or substantial Time Adjustment Factor violations. You have the right to delay your wishes. If you cannot obtain wish fulfillment in less than twenty-four hours, I am required to inform you of the potential for delay. Do you understand these rights that I have just recited to you?”
    “Um, yeah. Sure,” I said. Even though I continued to doubt my own sanity, something Becca had said was beginning to make a little more sense. She’d landed her amazing apartment because someone did her a huge favor. This genie must have been the someone. Becca must have received her own four wishes. (Four? I always thought that wishes came in threes. But what did I know?)
    But why had Becca passed the lantern on to me? “What’s the deal?” I asked the cop in front of me. “Why did Becca give me your lamp?”
    Recognition flashed deep in those mahogany eyes. “I am not at liberty to discuss Ms. Morris’s behavior.” But then, my stalwart policeman must have thought better of his own silence. “When did Ms. Morris transfer responsibility for the magical enterprise?”
    Magical enterprise? That sounded suspiciously like “criminal enterprise.” Nevertheless, I felt obligated to respond. That cop uniform—or the well-muscled form beneath it—was definitely compelling. “Um, today? I mean, I just opened up the box.”
    “And what was the precise time and date of your intervention?”
    “I don’t know.” I glanced at my watch. “It’s what? Seven o’clock? On, um, May 27.”
    He sucked in his breath. “And the year?” I told him. “Two weeks!” he exclaimed. His eyes glinted avariciously, and I suddenly wondered if this guy was some sort of dirty cop, if he was on the take.
    “Um, sir?” I finally found the courage to ask. “Officer? Is everything okay?”
    “Everything is quite satisfactory,” he said, snapping back to attention. He seemed more agitated, though. In much more of a hurry. He said, “Time is of the essence, Miss…”
    “Hollister,” I said.
    “Hollister,” he repeated. He stabbed a blunt finger toward the sheaf of papers still in my hand. “Are you ready to sign?”
    Was I?
    I paged through the document, skimming over the section titles. The print was tiny, and the sections were long and confusing. It looked like the genie was obligated to grant my