Hot Pink Heels (The Street Series)

by Adrienne Dawn

  The event tonight was slated to raise enough money to provide books, video games and other fun things for the young patients to occupy their time when they were in the hospitals all over the Los Angeles area. The James and Roberta Black Foundation was already well-known in California and many new hospitals were coming to Clarissa to request supplies, toys and games although it was still in the early stages of the foundation’s history.

  Clarissa was the driving force behind the foundation, although you’d never know it with her calm and quiet demeanor. It was great to have someone care so deeply for the children. He wondered what Amanda’s story was, and if she’d ever had someone care so deeply for her.

  Forget her, Jack. You are here for Clarissa tonight and you told God you were putting Amanda in his hands, so why are you trying to take her back?

  “…think that might be a great idea,” Clarissa paused, studying Jackson’s face. “Jackson, what do you think about that?” Jackson realized he’d been completely ignoring Clarissa on the way to the fundraiser.

  “Uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t get that last part, do you think you could repeat it?” Jackson bit the inside of his lip. The last thing he’d ever want to do would be to hurt Clarissa, but he was starting to wonder if they were right for each other.

  She was a very sweet girl, a deeply devoted believer and follower of Christ and man, the girl could cook! Jackson’s extra few pounds around the middle were a testament to her cooking abilities, which is how her foundation had started. Simple cookies, handed out to children in a nearby hospital, and now look what was happening.

  Jackson was so proud of Clarissa, and he often let her know it, but lately he’d been feeling like she liked him a whole lot more than he liked her. They’d known each other forever and had gotten even closer when her parents died, but there did not seem to be a real spark there with her, not like…Danger, Jack. Don’t get tripped up thinking about a woman you knew for less than 12 hours.

  It was far more likely that he would never see Amanda again.

  Amanda’s “date” was being a perfect gentleman so far. I could get use to this, she thought, sliding into the black BMW. Phil rounded the car and got in beside her, smiling nervously.

  “I’ve never done this,” Phil said sheepishly. He started the car and made a u-turn before heading into traffic.

  “You’ve never driven a car before?” Amanda joked with him. She knew what he’d meant and she took it in stride. Whether he had or he hadn’t, it didn’t matter to her, as long as the second half of her fee was collected at the end of the evening.

  Phil laughed nervously. When they pulled up to the entrance of a fancy hotel twenty minutes later, she whistled. “Whoa, pulling out the big guns tonight, huh? What’s this for again?” She leaned forward, attempting to see the top of the building with all of its glitz and glamour.

  “It’s a fundraiser for children with cancer,” Phil said. “The money raised tonight will help kids in the cancer wards get through their time there. It’s a fantastic organization, but I didn’t want to go stag.”

  They waited in line for the valets to help them out of the car. “Okay, look, I just want to go ahead and get this out of the way already,” said Phil, taking his wallet from the glove box. He slipped several large bills out and handed them to her, which she took gratefully.

  Amanda looked out the window as the car edged closer to the front of the line. She wasn’t going to be the best-dressed woman there, but she thought she could hold her own. She smoothed her black skirt and made sure there were no problems with her upswept hair as the valet moved up to the door.

  Here you go, girl. This is your first night of acting on a bigger scale. Better roles, better money, better everything. Next step: Hollywood. Amanda took a deep breath and stepped into a fairy tale.

  Jewels were sparkling, champagne was flowing freely and the women’s gowns were as colorful as the magical flower arrangements gracing each table. A large open space was obviously the dance floor, which Amanda was worried about. She’d never been much good at dancing and she had no idea how Phil felt about it. Maybe she’d get lucky and he wouldn’t want to dance at all.

  He seemed like a nice enough guy as he guided her toward a nearby table and offered to get her a drink from the bar. “I’ll just have a club soda,” Amanda said. He shrugged and went off to get the drink. Amanda didn’t want to be tipsy on her date, because she was working and she couldn’t afford to mess this thing up. She’d messed up enough things in the past two years.

  Jackson and Clarissa mingled with the guests, glasses of champagne in their hands and smiles on their faces. Jackson wasn’t much of a social drinker, or much of a drinker of any sort, really, so his champagne was mostly untouched.

  Clarissa was use to rubbing elbows with this sort of crowd, so she sipped delicately and laughed politely at all the right times before thanking the guests for showing up to support the children. They moved from couple to couple, with Clarissa effortlessly answering questions and directing the conversations toward the children’s foundation and their accomplishments.

  Jackson realized he had tuned out again when he felt Clarissa’s hand on his arm. “Jackson, you are going to give the invocation, right?” He stared down at Clarissa, who wore a frustrated look on her face. Clarissa is frustrated? That’s new. But really, what kind of boyfriend or even friend am I if I can’t stick with the conversation for half an hour?

  Jackson smiled, handing his glass to Clarissa before nodding to the dinner host, who was waiting to escort him to the head table. He would bless the food before the guests were served their expensive meals. As he walked toward the front of the room, Jackson mentally chastised himself for his attitude.

  Just because you can’t stand these charity functions doesn’t mean you can’t show some real support to your girlfriend. What is your problem, man? Stepping onto the platform, Jackson moved to the podium and asked everyone to stand and join him in prayer.

  He knew exactly what his problem was, and she was currently staring at him in shock.

  Amanda was frozen to her spot. Grey Eyes was staring right at her from the podium. Jackson, her heart thumped. What’s he doing here? And why do I have the urge to run up there and grab him?

  Dragging in a deep breath, Amanda finally broke eye contact with him, but only to notice how well he filled out his dark suit and that he’d gotten a haircut since she last saw him. She looked down quickly, still feeling his eyes on her.

  Jackson cleared his throat and the awkward pause was over as he began to pray. She snuck another glance at him while everyone else had their eyes closed for the prayer. She had no idea what he was saying, because she was mesmerized by his lips while he spoke.

  At his “amen,” she put her head down and closed her eyes, hoping Jackson had not seen her looking at him. When she felt Phil’s hand on her arm, she opened her eyes and looked up, expecting to see Jackson still on the platform.

  But the prayer was over and the food service was beginning. Jackson was nowhere in sight. Phil led her back to their table and seated her before seating himself. Amanda’s water goblet was full and she drank deeply, noticing her hand was shaking.

  Sneaking glances over her shoulder, Amanda began to pick at her salad. She had no idea how much this benefit dinner cost, but she realized she should eat as much as possible, since she had nothing but a few crackers left back at her place. She forked up the fancy lettuce, if that’s what you could call it. The strange flavors were not what she was use to, but with this new gig, she hoped she would be forced to get use to this type of situation quickly.

  She almost dropped her fork when she felt someone near her shoulder, but it was just the server letting her know he was there before placing her entrée plate in front of her. “Mandy, are you ok?” She glanced up to see concern on Phil’s face. “Your face is really pale and you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Amanda smiled at him. “I’m fine. It’s just a small headache but I think it’s because
I’m so hungry,” she said, attacking her salmon to prove her point.

  Phil nodded and let it drop, striking up a conversation with a man to his left. The two obviously knew each other, so Amanda was left to her own thoughts. The salmon was cooked perfectly, but there was a pitiful amount of it on her plate. Sighing, she began to fork up another bite.

  Clarissa and Jackson were whispering in an alcove on the other side of the room. “Okay, Jackson, out with it,” she said. “You’ve been acting very strangely since last week and then you just froze a few minutes ago. Who was that woman you were staring at? Do you know her?”

  Wow, maybe Clarissa had a bit of a temper after all. He’d never seen her this angry before. She was waiting for a response, her arms crossed in an unfamiliar manner. Jackson could easily lie to her, but that was not his style. He should’ve told her all of this the other day, but it honestly hadn’t crossed his mind. Maybe because you’ve been so busy thinking about Amanda.

  “Remember when I told you Harry and I wanted to go downtown and invite people from the street to attend the new services we’re starting at that warehouse?” Clarissa nodded, her arms still crossed. “Well, I borrowed his car and went to talk to homeless people, prostitutes, whoever happened to be on the street that night,” Jackson said.

  “You’re telling me she was one of them?” Clarissa raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “She looked too well put together to be from the street.”

  “Just hold on a minute, Rissa, I’m getting there,” he pleaded. “When I pulled over, of course, all the girls thought I was a customer.” God, I’m in a jam here. Please help me word this right without hurting Clarissa.

  Clarissa’s eyes sparked. They actually sparked. Jackson rushed to finish the story, anxious to assuage his guilt. “She came over and practically fell into my car and then passed out and hit her head on the concrete,” he said. “EMS came and they tried to take her to the hospital but she seemed so scared and physically okay and then Billy came up, and—“

  “Who’s Billy?” Clarissa cut him off. She was definitely listening to his story, so Jackson quickly added the other details.

  “Billy is her pimp,” Jackson finished. “He threatened her and bruised her arm right there in front of me, so what could I do?” His eyes pleaded with Clarissa to understand.

  Jackson could see her softening, so he continued. “I knew if I let her out of my car that night, he was going to do something terrible to her,” Jackson said.

  “Okay, so what did you do?” Clarissa questioned.

  This is going to be the tough one. He looked her straight in the eye and said, “I took her home.”

  Chapter 11

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Clarissa said, turning away. Jackson touched her arm and she turned back, tears in her eyes.

  “Rissa, it’s not like that,” Jackson said. “I took her to my parents’ house. Not my house!” Raising one eyebrow, Clarissa was clearly waiting for him to continue.

  “I didn’t know what to do with her, but I couldn’t take her back right away. Billy would’ve beat the crap out of her, especially if she came back without any money,” Jackson said, sighing.

  “You gave her money?” Clarissa’s voice raised an octave, attracting the attention of the nearest table’s occupants. Her normally calm manner was completely gone, replaced by a suddenly jealous and very hurt woman.

  “Rissa, Rissa, just let me finish,” Jackson said, pulling her farther into the alcove. “Let me sum it up, since every sentence I say seems to make you more upset. I gave her money, but it was only because I saw that man put marks on her body right there in front of me. Only God knows what Billy would’ve done to her if she’d shown up the next morning without any cash.”

  “She spent the night at your parents’ house and then you gave her money,” Clarissa said, suddenly very calm. Too calm. “What else, Jackson? What else is there, because I don’t know how much more I can take.”

  “I was worried about her, so I’ve actually been back to check on her,” Jackson said, almost hanging his head at the look on her face. It seemed to be made of stone, and the only other time he’d ever seen that look was the day she’d lost her parents in the plane crash. It was the look she wore when she held back all emotion in order to get through something devastating.

  “Clarissa, nothing happened. She slept all night at my parents’ house, she ate breakfast, I gave her money and, well, then I took her back,” Jackson said, but Clarissa had noticed his pause and she jumped on it.

  “So something did happen! Jackson, I can’t believe this, I thought you respected me, I thought we might have a real future together,” she gasped out; tears now racing down her face.

  “Okay, Clarissa, she’s a prostitute. It’s her job to seduce guys, and yes, she tried to kiss me,” he started. “But she didn’t get anywhere with it. I think she could even sense that I was involved with someone, because telling her I was a pastor didn’t stop her, but when I held her away, she asked if I was afraid my wife would find out.”

  At that, Clarissa’s head snapped up and she locked eyes with Jackson. He knew she’d been hoping for a proposal, and although these past few years had been pleasant, he was far from a serious commitment. With her. Where in the world did that thought come from?

  Amanda was bored out of her mind, but she pretended to listen carefully to Phil’s conversations throughout the evening. She couldn’t help but wonder if she would run into Jackson before the night was over.

  She realized Phil was asking her a question and she snapped back to reality. “I’m sorry, Phil, what was that?” She felt stupid. Her job with the escort service relied heavily on her recommendations from clients, and here she was blowing it with the first one. He was a nice guy, just boring, but he wasn’t asking or expecting her to do anything else except listen to him. Buck up, girl.

  “I asked if you would care to dance,” Phil said as he offered his hand. Without answering, she took his hand and he steered her toward the dance floor, where several couples were already swaying to a romantic ballad.

  Phil’s arm wrapped around her waist, his hand resting at the small of her bare back. Her mauve-colored top was mostly backless, but still tasteful and flattering against her dark hair. Several tendrils had escaped from her elegant up do, which softened her carefully made up face.

  “You’re a very pretty woman, Mandy,” Phil said, looking down at her as they moved across the floor. “How is it that you got into the escort business instead of being married with a couple of kids by now?”

  “Ah, ah, ah,” Amanda said, waggling her finger at him. “Can’t talk about my job, remember? Don’t want to blow your cover, right?” She smiled at him to take the sting out of her words, tapping him on the chest with the same finger.

  Amanda felt a tap on her shoulder before Phil’s face lit up. Turning, her expression froze as she looked up into Jackson’s silvery eyes. Her eyes widened and her heart thumped, but she realized Jackson was looking at Phil.

  “Phil! How’re you doing, man?” Phil and Amanda broke apart as the two men shook hands and clapped each other on the shoulder. “How long has it been?”

  “Wow, Jack, it’s been quite awhile,” Phil said. “I’m sorry, I’m being rude. This is Mandy.” Phil’s arm came back around Amanda as he gestured toward Jackson. “Mandy, Jack and I go way back to our college days.”

  Amanda extended her hand, waiting for Jackson to take it, her eyes locked on his again. Once more she found herself hoping he would maintain her secret. Jackson’s hands covered hers, much as his mother’s had just last week. Home. There it was again, that feeling of coming home.

  Jackson’s eyes went first to her stomach, then her face, seeking the answer to his unasked question. Amanda’s eyes welled up and she looked away quickly, mumbling an excuse about the restroom.

  Freed from the conversation, she moved away, almost blindly searching for the restroom. Finding the proper door, Amanda stepped inside and closed it again, leani
ng against the wall for support.

  Baby killer, murderer. It’s almost as if she could audibly hear the words passing from Jackson to her. He knows, she thought. The pain came, washing over her in waves as agonizing as if she was lying on that table again. Amanda felt short of breath.

  A woman in a modest navy blue gown was standing near the full-length mirror, touching up her pale pink lipstick. Although she was trying to appear busy, she was carefully watching Amanda in the mirror.

  She was pretty, but obviously worlds apart from Amanda’s reality, as Amanda noticed her designer pumps and the expensive handbag sitting on the counter near her.

  Suddenly, Amanda felt trashy, despite her own attractive and conservative appearance. Wait a minute, I know who she is. She’s Clarissa Black, the founder of this event, and heiress to the Black’s millions. She’d seen a picture and a short bio of the woman on the evening’s dinner card. Rissa Black was known for her philanthropic ways as well as her work with children suffering from cancer.

  Amanda smiled at her, but she was very intimidated. “Hi,” she said, attempting to pull herself together. This woman had no idea who she was. You want to be an actress; it’s time to try out your talents. “My name is—“

  “I know who you are,” Clarissa said coldly, surprising Amanda. “My boyfriend told me all about how he helped you out the other night.” She ignored Amanda’s outstretched hand.

  Amanda froze, her hand still held out. Clarissa Black, multi-millionaire, was Jackson’s girlfriend?

  Chapter 12

  “So, Phil, it’s been awhile,” Jackson said. “What have you been up to? Who’s the girl?” He hoped he wasn’t being too obvious, but he had to know what was going on. First he’d felt shock at seeing her in this setting, and then he’d felt utter relief at seeing her there. She was alive, and well. She’s more than well, Jack. She’s gorgeous. But she’s not yours.