Hot Pink Heels (The Street Series) (13 page)

Jackson sipped his tea to wet his suddenly parched throat. When he set the glass down, he looked up and was startled to see a single tear making it’s way down
Clarissa’s cheek. Without thinking, Jackson leaned forward to gently wipe it away, but again, he was surprised as Clarissa jerked back before he could touch her.

“Jackson, don’t,” she
said, her voice wavering on a thin line of control. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Just listen to me.”

He was unsure of how to proceed, so he gave her the floor as requested.

“Jackson, I’ve loved you since we were kids,” she started. Jackson felt like a heel. “I’m not saying that to make you feel bad. I just want you to know, I had a crush on you from the start, and it grew stronger through high school, even though I knew you probably looked at me more like a sister or friend rather than a girlfriend.”

As she struggled with the next words, Jackson felt like he should say something.
Anything, Jack, say anything! I can’t stand seeing her this way, God.

“Rissa,
I,” he stopped when she held up a hand.

“Please, let me continue,” Clarissa said softly.
“And when my parents…when they died, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through, but I made it because you were there for me. I see now it’s because you are such a good friend, but at the time, it felt to me like we belonged together. I held on to you for way too long after that, even when I realized you felt nothing for me romantically. I just couldn’t let go of one more person that I cared about.”

He couldn’t stand it,
so he took her hand and this time she didn’t resist. “Rissa, Rissa, I’m sorry,” Jackson said. “I
do
care for you, you have to know that. I do
love
you.”

Clarissa looked into his eyes. “But not the ‘I-want-to-marry-you’ love that I feel for you,” she said sadly. “And it’s okay, I think I’ve known it for a long time,
I just couldn’t accept it. The other night, I saw the look on your face when you were dancing with that girl, and I knew I’d never seen that look when you’ve held
me
in your arms.”

“Rissa, it’s not like that with
Amanda and I,” he stumbled, not knowing what to say next. If he and Amanda weren’t like that, then what were they? He couldn’t get Amanda out of his mind, couldn’t stop thinking about her kisses, and no matter how hard he tried to remind himself she gave herself to other men for a living, he was drawn to her. The realization hit him like the slap Amanda had delivered on the night of the benefit. He was falling for a hooker, and he was falling hard.

Amanda’s cheeks flamed as she remembered the incident in the department store. It was just a few hours ago, but she was trying to forget it as quickly as possible. She had work to do, including getting the burgers out to table 23 before they got irate. The kitchen was running slow and customers were getting antsy.

Why did I suddenly miss my mom so much?
The desire to call home and hear her mom’s cheery “hello” or her dad’s booming, “Knox residence” was almost overwhelming. The tears had been a shock, but not as much as her longing for home. For the first time in over six months, Amanda was reminded of everything she’d run from and she found herself questioning her decision.

“Hey, toots, I’m not paying you to stand around,” Sal broke into her reverie and she
apologized as she grabbed the warm plates and headed out to the group at table 23.

When she’d satisfied their drink refills, Amanda moved over to clear t
he next table, slipping the two-dollar tip into her apron. It was a lot less than she made from one night on the street, but all the customer had requested was ketchup for his fries. She was nearly finished with her shift, and she had almost $30 in her pocket from tips.

That money, along with what was left of the money from Phil, was going to be enough to get her a decent haircut and color
very soon. She’d been hacking at her own hair for over a year, just keeping it trimmed and past her shoulder blades.

M
aybe if she got the haircut, she’d have enough confidence to make a call home. It might be time to let her parents know she wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere. The old feelings were still there at the surface and Amanda had to force herself to relax and smile as she took orders from a young couple. Maybe she would call home. Or maybe not.

Clarissa had been so forgiving, just as she usually was, which only served to make Jackson feel worse.
He’d gone over to her house, planning to let her down gently, but she had made it so much easier on him than he expected. He’d expected the fiery woman he’d seen show up last night, but that wasn’t who Clarissa normally was.

When he’d gotten lost in his thoughts about Amanda, Clarissa reached over and covered his hand with her own. She squeezed once and then continued. “Jackson, I will love you forever, and I hope you will still be my friend, but I know now I have to let you go, because your heart doesn’t belong to me,” said Clarissa. “I don’t know if it belongs to this Amanda woman either, but I do know it’s not mine. Thank you for coming over. Eliza will show you out.” She squeezed his hand again and then walked calmly inside.

By the time Jackson had turned and followed her into the house, she’d disappeared up the sweeping staircase. Eliza stood wringing her hands and waiting for Jackson. “Mr. Jackson, what you do?” Eliza shook her finger at him. “Ms. Clarissa, she’s been upset these days. I say to myself it must be your fault and now I see her crying when she comes from talking to you.”

“Eliza, I’m sorry, but I really can’t talk right now,” Jackson said,
touching her shoulder as he walked by. “I have somewhere I have to be.” Jackson was afraid he knew exactly where he wanted to go and it probably wasn’t in his best interest. So, instead of heading for Amanda’s apartment, Jackson started his car and pointed it toward the office.

Amanda stepped out of the salon feeling like a million bucks. Well, a
ctually, she felt like about $113.83, since that’s what the hair cut, color and style had cost her, but it was worth it. She loved the blonde streaks that were back in her hair, along with the bouncy length that was just touching her shoulders.

The cornflower blue blouse she wore complemented her cream-colored slacks
, and though it was a sheer, gauzy material, the tank top undershirt that came with it was plenty opaque. With three days of working at the diner under her belt, Amanda felt like she was finally starting to make some headway.

Her tips had steadily increased and she was already beginning to figure out who the regulars were.
Her second client from the escort service was taking her out for cocktails with a business client and his wife, followed by dinner and dancing and possible after hours entertainment, a.k.a. sex. Even though she wasn’t looking forward to that part of the evening, she hoped that the tip would more than make up for what she’d be doing. It couldn’t be worse than when she was hooking.

Amanda’s hair was straightened and
flowing free, the blonde highlights catching the attention of every male in the vicinity. Unbeknownst to her, she looked like a walking advertisement for the salon she’d just left, with her shiny hair and the nearly couture outfit she was wearing accenting her swinging gait as she continued down the sidewalk.

Maybe she
would
give her parents a call tonight, if for no other reason than to hear their voices on the other end of the line. She could hang up and they’d assume it was a wrong number, but if they saw it on the caller ID, she knew they’d wonder if it was Amanda.

“…so that’s everything,” said Jackson. It felt good to tell someone, but he wasn’t sure what he was asking Harry for. Was he asking for his blessing, for him to tell Jackson what to do, or for Harry’s permission to forget about Amanda?

Harry didn’t say anything for a moment, and Jackson was nervous. He deeply respected Harry, and he was not sure what Harry was thinking at all. Was his job in danger, now that he’d admitted things had gotten a little physical between him and Amanda?

When he finally looked up from the spot he’d been studying on the floor, he saw Harry’s shoulders shaking.
What in the world?
“Harry, are you—wait, do you think this is
funny
?”

“Ooh, oh, yeah, I’m sorry, but this is just too…” Harry lost control again, tears running down his face. “So, ooh, okay, so you’re telling me you’re in love with a hooker?”

Whatever he’d expected from Harry, it certainly wasn’t this! Jackson was torn between the obviously amusing predicament he’d gotten into and anger with Harry for treating it so lightly.

“Okay, seriously, I’m sorry, I really am trying to get myself under control,” Harry snickered. He straight-faced it for nearly 10 seconds before a snort escaped. “So
that’s
why my car smelled like lemons when you gave it back to me?”

“Harry, honestly, I just laid my heart bare in front of you and I really am asking for your advice,” Jackson said, a little frustration seeping through. “I really and truly just pulled over to invite the ladies to the service we’re starting next month and before I knew it, there was a girl falling into my—your car, an ambulance, a pimp and words flying out of my mouth that seemed out of control.”

“Jackson, I really do think you did the right thing in coming to me for advice, except for the fact that I don’t really
have
any standard advice to give in this situation,” said Harry.

“I know this sounds like a B movie plot, but I just don’t know what to do,” Jackson said. “I thought I loved Clarissa and I really thought we’d settle down and get married someday, but after I met Amanda, I realized that what I’d had with Clarissa w
as just a great friendship. I’m also trying not to be that person that sticks my nose in the air to keep Amanda at arm’s length just because of her past. I know God can forgive anyone for anything, but Amanda’s not anywhere near that point right now. As it is, she can barely stand me.”

“Jack, I really don’t think you are the type of person to look at
someone’s past when you’re considering a relationship with them,” Harry said with a smile. “That’s not the part that’s got me worried. Right now I’m worried about Amanda. Is she in a safe place?”

“Well, I think it’s better than where she was, but her pimp could still find her and mess her up, and I really know nothing about this escort service she’s working for now,” Jackson said. “The only connection I have is that Phil brought her to the fundraiser
a few nights ago.”

“What if her pimp finds her?” Harry voiced the question that had been haunting Jackson for the past few days. The answer could very w
ell be more than he could stand.

Well, things didn’t seem like they would be getting too physical with this client, and for that she was thankful, but otherwise, Amanda was bored almost to tears. She felt glamorous and beautiful in her black dress, but the men were carrying on a conversation that was far over her head.

She brushed imaginary crumbs from the bottom of the dress as she snuck a glance at the other woman at the table.
She looks just as bored as I am
, Amanda thought. “Myra, I have to make a trip to the ladies’ room,” Amanda said as politely as she could. “Would you like to come with me?”

The other woman almost leaped from her chair in her excitement to get away from the table, and she and Amanda shared a smile as they headed toward the back of the posh restaurant.
Amanda held the door for Myra, who led the way into the sitting area of the restroom.

Myra offered Amanda a cigarette, which she refused, but she did join the other woman on the settee. “So, Mandy, where did Jonathan meet you? You two make a great couple, you know,” Myra
said, flicking her ashes into the nearby ashtray.

“Thanks,” Amanda said, smiling at her own inside joke. “We met a few days ago at a bar, and we just hit it off.” Her standard story was one that each client would know, so she wasn’t worried that Jonathan wouldn’t be able to back her up. Besides, Myra didn’t suspect anything.

“I don’t know about you, but these dinners drive me crazy,” Myra laughed. “Boooring! But, Dan makes the big bucks and he likes to have me along, so I put up with it. At least they don’t ask me to chime in on the conversation, and I get out of the house a couple of times a month for a fancy dinner.”

“Yeah,” Amanda agreed. “The tiramisu
was
pretty awesome. How long do you think they’ll go?”

Myra tapped her butt
out in the ashtray and pulled out a compact to fix her lipstick. “Well, they’ve only had a few drinks,” she said, tracing her lips with a slim red pencil. “Usually things don’t wrap up until sometime after the fourth drink or so, but we could get lucky tonight, in more ways than one.”

She winked at Amanda, which had her stomach in knots. Maybe she wasn’t going to get out of this evening so easily, but she’d just
have to deal with that later. Maybe Jonathan would have too many drinks and he’d put her in a cab at the end of the dinner.