“Good morning, Clair,” Jessica said as she turned to greet her boss.
“Good morning, I am glad to see you finally remembered where you work.”
She frowned. “I am sorry. I tried to hurry, but I wasn’t nearly ready to go when John phoned.”
“Well, never mind,” she said, dismissing her apology. “You’re here now.” She clapped her hands together several times, urging people to return to work. “Get a move on people. We have a lot of work to do yet,” she bellowed making the entire staff jump to attention and scatter in different directions.
Jessica shook her head in disapproval. This certainly was not the way to treat the crew if there was any hope of getting things finished early.
She reassured Clair they would do everything possible to finish this today, and began shouting orders of her own to the crew and models. The morning definitely had not begun to look up. Her only salvation came when she took her place behind her camera. Only there was she able to shut out the rest of the world. Nothing seemed to matter when she was behind her camera, except what was in front of her. She seemed to come alive with a lens to her eye. She admired the grace the models so easily achieved. It was apparent they loved posing for her, losing themselves in their work, just as Jessica got lost in hers. It was a romance born to be lived, an artful coupling of lens and body.
As the morning ticked on, she seemed to lose hold of her patience with the models. Charlotte moved the wrong way, casting a shadow over Yvonne’s profile. Martin frequently stepped on Stephanie’s feet, putting her in a raging temper, and one of the new designers insisted on sitting in on the shoot, a habit Jessica frowned on, and repeatedly interrupted to say, “You just aren’t capturing the whole ensemble. It isn’t moving properly.” When Jessica snapped back at her, declaring it was the clothes, not the model or the photographer that failed to do the capturing, the insulted designer ran from the room crying. Jessica sighed, stepped from behind the camera, rubbed her temples, and strode over to John, who was watching her intently. He turned her gently around and began rubbing her shoulders.
“I think it’s time for lunch,” he whispered in her ear.
She looked at her watch, saw that it was way past noon, and as if in agreement, her stomach began to sing in strong protest over not having been fed all day.
“Okay,” she agreed. “Let’s go over to Carlosi’s, that new Italian deli that just opened next door. It’ll be quick and light.”
“That sounds good. I’ll spread the word.”
As they were leaving the building, Amy pulled Jessica aside. She looked distressed. Amy was the senior cosmetology consultant responsible for the model’s hair and makeup.
“I need to talk to you, alone,” she pleaded.
Amy was Jessica’s closest friend. It disturbed her to see her in such a distressed state. They found a quiet table in a corner of the restaurant, where they could talk.
She noted the pale coloring to her friend’s face. She looked as if she had lost some weight.
“What’s wrong, Amy? You don’t look well. Have you been sick?” she asked, growing alarmed.
She watched her friend as emotion twisted her features. Amy blinked hard to hold back the tears. Jessica reached across the table and squeezed her friend’s hand, strengthening her with her support.
“I am so embarrassed talking about this,” Amy managed to choke out. Noting the concern in her friend’s eyes, Amy felt reassured she would understand. Their friendship went back, and Amy knew Jessica would be the one to stand by her, always. She would be the one who would see her through this latest tragedy, just as she had all the others.
Jessica reached across the table again and took hold of Amy’s hands. They were cold and trembling. She increased her pressure, letting Amy know she was alert to her agony.
“Do you remember this?” She pressed her hands together, as in prayer, and raised them slowly. “Troubles here and troubles there, troubles are all in here. Lift them up and toss them away, they will not bother me today.”
Despite herself, Amy giggled softly. She did it so expertly that Amy could almost see Sarah Crawford sitting across the table from her. She loved Sarah as much as Jessica did. She was a second mother to her, having taken her under her wing following her own mother’s death.
She remembered the poem well. It was one Sarah had made up for Jessica when she was a child. She would say it whenever she was feeling blue. She had recited it to Amy on the day of her mother’s funeral. Even though she was an adult, it had made her smile. Sarah had been the one to comfort her on that day. Her father had been too distraught. Sarah had taken over the burden of seeing her mother buried. She was needed, just as much as she needed to be needed.
Amy smiled at Jessica, who was grinning at her from across the table. “Oh Jess, how I wish this could be tossed away so easily. I’m afraid all the poems in the world will not solve this problem.”
“This is serious, then.”
It was a statement, not a question. For in Amy’s eyes, Jessica could see the sea storming. She remembered the look. She had seen that same look the day Amy’s mother had died. They had been eating a pizza, trying hard to study, but doing more laughing than anything. They had sat cross-legged on Amy’s bed, intermittently reading a paragraph, laughing, and stuffing pizza in their faces. There was a knock on the door, and for some strange reason they had burst out in a round of giggles that had followed Amy to the door as she got up to answer it. There was a phone call for her, only she wasn’t giggling, or even smiling, when she returned to the room. She had that look now.
She leaned in close. “You are my closest friend. I really need you now.” She hesitated, and then noting the encouragement in Jessica’s eyes, she continued, “I have been seeing a man. I met him at Charlie’s.”
Charlie’s was a local nightclub. Some of the studio gang hung out there. Jessica didn’t go there often. She preferred the solitude of her apartment to the noisy atmosphere of the bar, but Amy was a frequent patron.
Amy continued, her bright-blue eyes dancing with a mixture of nervous excitement. “He really is something special—or at least I thought he was. I have fallen in love with him.”
Jessica stared at her with puzzlement. “That’s terrific. I don’t understand why you are so upset. So, you’ve found a man that you’re crazy about.” She gave Amy a crooked grin. “Worse things than falling in love have happened to you. Remember the time you…” She broke off. Amy was shaking her head.
Amy put her hand up as a barrier against Jessica’s words. “There is more,” she said. “I recently found out he’s married.”
Jessica moaned. She couldn’t believe Amy would allow herself to become involved with a married man.
“Didn’t you have any idea he was married when you agreed to go out with him?”
“No!” she cried emphatically, horrified to think Jessica would believe she would purposely date a married man. “I really didn’t,” she insisted. “We met about four months ago and have spent just about every weekend together. I didn’t think there was time for a wife,” she said, blushing.
“Exactly when did you find out?”
“He told me last weekend; we went away together. He said he had something important to tell me.”
“Well, I’ll say that’s important!” Jessie exclaimed a bit too sharply.
Amy ignored her friend’s abruptness. Tears were beginning to form in her eyes. She absently wiped them away with the back of her hand.
“I thought he was going to tell me he loved me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so straightforward. But Amy, didn’t you have some kind of clue as to what you were getting yourself into?” She noted the panic in her friend’s eyes and stopped. “I’m lecturing, aren’t I?”
Amy nodded, choking back her tears.
“You aren’t telling me everything, are you?” She knew too well she wasn’t. Panic seized her, and then guilt overtook her. She did not want to hear this. She was n
ot capable of helping Amy with this problem, and she guessed it was bigger than either of them could handle. She swallowed hard and tried to avoid Amy’s eyes. What kind of friend am I? She asked herself. Amy turned her head away, shamed.
Jessica gaped at her friend, still not believing what she was hearing. Their server brought their food to the table, and Jessica had a moment to compose herself as she placed their orders in front of them. Who could eat now, she wondered. She almost told the waitress to take the food away, but to her surprise, Amy was attacking her food as if she hadn’t eaten in a week. Incomprehensible words rapidly poured out between bites. She wondered if she had heard right. Could it be this noisy in here, or was she merely trying to avoid what she had heard?
“Did you say you’re pregnant?” she asked, lowering her voice. She was afraid they might be overheard.
Wiping her mouth on her napkin, Amy nodded slowly, affirming that, no, Jessica did not need to have her ears checked. Her friend’s face showed her shame clearly. She hadn’t expected this kind of reaction from her best friend.
Jessica was at a loss for words. Her heart went out to Amy, but she found it hard to give comfort and didn’t know what to say to ease the pain. Finally, she managed to make her body move. Sliding her chair over to Amy’s side of the table, she drew her friend against her, ashamed of her previous behavior. She should have been supportive, instead of critical. Who was she to judge Amy so harshly?
She noticed people staring at them and returned the curious stares with angry glares. The crowd returned to their own business. Amy’s sobs slowly subsided and she was able to restore some of her dignity. She glanced around quickly, suddenly remembering they were not alone. She was relieved to find that no one was staring. Jessica didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise.
“I don’t really know what I’m going to do about this,” Any continued after a long silence. “I want to tell Bob about the baby, but I don’t want to lose him, either.”
“What about his wife? How does he feel about her?” Jessica asked, wishing something would end this conversation. God, she felt guilty.
“He says they are married in name only.” Jessica rolled her eyes. It was the oldest line in the book. But of course, Amy was too much in love to see that. “They agreed a long time ago they married in haste, and the whole thing has been a mistake. I just can’t risk losing him. I don’t know what to do.”
Amy started to cry again. Jessica quickly sought the opportunity to end the conversation. “Listen, I think we should finish talking tonight. I have to drive out to Mom’s house, but we can have dinner first, at my place. Then we can talk alone. What do you say?”
Amy started to protest but was silenced by Jessica, who refused to take no for an answer. She hesitated, shook her head in agreement, and then excused herself so she could freshen up before returning to work.
Rising from the table, Jessica strode over to where the rest of the crew had sat through the lunch hour, eating and chatting happily. She envied them their gaiety.
She cast a warning glance their way, informing them with a look that this was Amy’s problem and they should stay out of it. They returned her glance with a “What, we can behave ourselves” kind of stare.
Amy emerged from the restroom to find them all engaged in a debate over the stock market. As much as the subject bored her, she was thankful for the distraction. She cast a thankful glance at Jessica, who smiled reassuringly. Amy didn’t know what she would do without her friend to help her through her problems, but hoped she would never have to find out.
There was a message from Clair waiting for Jessica when she returned to the studio. Clair wanted to see her immediately.
Clair greeted her as she entered the office, closing the door behind her. “Good afternoon, Jessica. I trust you all had a splendid lunch?” She didn’t wait for an answer before plunging on. “Have you met Phillip Stewart?”
Jessica turned and glanced at a tall, handsome man standing beside Clair’s desk. She eyed him warily. “No, we haven’t met before. However, I am aware of Mr. Stewart’s reputation,” she replied bluntly.
She met him halfway across the room and shook his hand in a reluctant greeting. She was not really being complimentary when she made this statement. Phillip Stewart had a reputation for being a womanizer. Worse than that, he would let no man stand in his way when it came to getting what he wanted. He had once driven a man to suicide by taking away first his wife, and then his business. Once he had control over the business, he viciously cast the wife aside, leaving her penniless. Later, rumors went around that the woman had taken a contract out on his life. The killer was unsuccessful, and she and the man ended up going to prison for conspiracy to commit murder.
Jessica shivered as he held her hand a little longer than necessary.
“Then I’m sure you’re aware that Mr. Stewart is the president of Chic Fashions!”
She punctuated this statement with a bit of impatience, startling Jessica back to attention. Clair continued, “Mr. Stewart’s company is just about to release their new line of summer clothing called Outrageously You.” Jessica flinched at the name. It would suit him perfectly to come up with a name like that. “Mr. Stewart has invited us to do the layout for them. I have informed him you are my top photographer and would look forward to personally overseeing this project.”
Jessica glanced sharply at Clair. “Oh, but Clair,” she started to protest, “I can’t possibly. I have other projects going right now.”
Clair held up her hand in warning. “They have all been taken care of'.”
Color burned Jessica’s cheeks. “What do you mean by ‘taken care of’?” she asked.
“I mean just that, taken care of. I have reassigned all your projects. As of this minute, you are officially in charge of Outrageously You. You will be working solely with Mr. Stewart on this project.”
Jessica was astonished. An opportunity like this was golden, but—she glanced over at Phillip—with this man? She was struck dumb with terror. Tragedy had befallen anyone who had ever had anything to do with him. She loathed the amused glint dancing across his eyes. Her stomach turned. She was sweating profusely. She stumbled backward, toward Clair’s desk.
Trying unsuccessfully to suppress his laughter, Phillip Stewart took a step toward her, offering assistance. She declined and reached behind her for a tissue.
“Actually,” he said pausing, “I’m afraid I will not have the pleasure of working alongside Ms. Crawford.”
Jessica released the breath she had been holding. She blushed when she realized it had been noticed. Phillip chuckled, delighted that Jessica was genuinely frightened of him. For a moment, he considered changing his mind about taking on this assignment himself, but decided against it.
“I-I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, trying to regain some of her composure. “I have been most ungracious. It would have been my honor to work alongside you,” she lied.
He grinned knowingly. “Yes, I can see you’re disappointed. I am equally disappointed. However, as you might guess, I’m a very busy man. I just wanted to make sure that things get started on a sure footing. My staff will be overseeing the project once it’s underway.”
“I understand,” Jessica assured him, relief evident on her face. There was no way of hiding it. An unpleasant look passed between the two of them. Clair didn’t seem to notice as she rambled on.
“What we need to get started on this project is your best models. You and Amy can handle this. Also, we will need a good location to do the layout.” Clair rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “This will take some time and thoughtful planning. I suggest you start on your search, immediately.”
Jessica knew Clair was dying to remind her to watch her budget, as she always did, but would not dare to in front of Mr. Stewart. She couldn’t help but smile at this. Clair scowled at her.
Jessica excused herself and slid quietly out the door. She leaned against it in relief as soon as she was on the other side. She broke out in
another cold sweat, and wiped her brow with the tissue she still held in her hand.
She was overwhelmed with relief that she would not have to work with Phillip Stewart after all. She nearly bubbled with excitement. Taking a deep breath, she ran to inform the others of the big news, shaking off the unpleasant feeling Phillip Stewart’s groping eyes had left.
She found John in the studio sorting racks of clothing into the order he thought she would want to use them.
“So, this is the big project Clair was so uptight about,” John said, slightly amused.
“This is it,” Jessica said. “This could be a big opportunity for the magazine. Chic Fashions is one of the top distributors in women’s fashions. It could mean big money if the project goes well, not to mention worldwide recognition of my work. So don’t screw it up,” she teased, flashing a playful warning glance directly at John.
“Who me!” John cried placing both his hand against his chest and raising his eyebrows in disbelief. “Really, Jessica, I am truly wounded. You of all people should know me better than that.” He winked at her, showing good humor in his display of bad behavior.
She visibly relaxed. The afternoon had been long and tiring, and she had felt the tension grow to an unbearable height. Placing one hand on either of her shoulders, John massaged the tension from them. She closed her eyes, moaning, thoroughly enjoying the attention.
“Why don’t you join Eric and me for a pizza tonight,” he said. “It seems like you could use some company. It’s just going to be a quiet night eating in, probably a game of Cribbage, or Trivia, wine, soft music—nice and peaceful.”
Eric was John’s roommate of eight years. It was common knowledge they had a relationship going, although no one openly talked about it. The relationship had never bothered Jessica. She liked both John and Eric.
“Thanks, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your invitation, as tempting as it sounds. I’m not keen on intruding on a romantic interlude. Besides, I’m having dinner with Amy tonight, and then I’m off to my mother’s house for a somewhat relaxing weekend. At least it was going to be relaxing until Clair dropped this project on me. Now it looks as if it’ll be a working weekend. But at least I’ll be in the clean country air. There’s no place like the country to do some serious thinking.”
Coveting Love (Jessica Crawford) Page 2