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“Well, someone from you workplace did,” John fired back. “I'm not saying it was you. To be honest, yes, I did think it was you until now. When I heard the tweets were sent from your diner, I figured you were just some lonely nutcase who fixated on me and decided to bombard me with insane messages. Now that I've met you, I can see you're not that kind of a person. You seem pretty normal to me,” he smiled warmly as he sat back in his seat.
Jessie paused to take a deep breath, noting that she hadn't taken one since entering his office. She had been on the attack, but with a moment to digest what John had told her the truth began to reveal itself. Melanie. That conniving loudmouth hated her, wanted her gone, and practically lived on Twitter. She was an immature simpleton who had no qualms stooping to a level so low. John could see her wheels turning and leaned forward.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I just realized who set me up, but never mind that. I'll handle it. Look,” Jessie continued with a calmer voice. “I just wish your wife would have checked her facts before storming in like that. I have a reputation. Well, had a reputation, I should say.”
“Now you have a reputation as a waitress who attacks her customers with ketchup,” John joked, his blue eyes lighting up in amusement. He was a man who laughed at his own material, and Jessie had a soft spot for guys like that. She tried hard to suppress the laugh aching to burst through lips and regained her composure.
“These stories in the paper won't help me, either.”
“I'm sorry,” John Harwood once again replied sympathetically. “But my wife just loves to be in the news, and this was a perfect opportunity. Good news, bad news, she doesn't mind. As long as it gets her on television or in the paper, then she's happy. I think what she really wants is a part in a film. She thinks someone will see how dramatic she is and give her a role.” John's eyes drifted into thought. This was obviously a sore spot for him.
“Well,” Jessie remarked, “she's got a strange way of going about it.”
“I know. But, please, would you take a seat?” John asked while motioning towards the chairs again.
Jessie shrugged and took the seat closest to her. She hadn't noticed that John had politely stood again until she was seated comfortably. It was a very gentlemanly gesture, and she realized that was perhaps the most striking thing about him. He was so respectful and chivalrous, how did he find himself married to that Kimberly lunatic? Then again, she was once a supermodel. The perfect trophy for a guy with a bank account the size of John Harwood's.
“What can I do to make this up to you, um...” John trailed off, realizing he couldn't recall Jessie's name.
“Jessica Drew, but everyone calls me Jessie.” With her anger subsiding, she suddenly became all too aware that she was sitting face-to-face with the same celebrity billionaire she'd seen on the news countless times. It hit her all at once, making her feel out of place and insecure, and she sheepishly sunk into her seat. Nervousness began to pervade her, and she felt her heart begin pounding in her chest.
“It's nice to finally meet my mistress,” he smiled.
“Don't say that.” Jessie replied. The sound of his voice and the kindness in his eyes somehow soothed her back into comfort. She straightening her posture in confidence. “I would never stoop so low as to be someone's mistress. I have my pride.”
“And you came here to see that justice is done, so you're also a very fair person as well.”
“I try to be,” she answered.
John didn't speak for a moment. Jessie studied his expression and he seemed to be studying hers in return. She noticed his eyes sweep upwards as he took in her entire body, yet it didn't make her uncomfortable. In fact, she liked the idea that such a charming, handsome man seemed to be admiring her. She was also checking him out, but attempting a bit more subtlety. The broadness of his shoulders was obvious, even through the formal shirt. He was muscular indeed, and she could tell he looked after himself. There was a smoldering look about him that gave her a warm feeling very low in her stomach, and she was surprised to find herself so attracted to him.
Their eyes met and neither looked away. There was definitely chemistry between them, and she could tell that he felt it, too.
“What did you hope to achieve by coming here, Jessica Drew?” John finally broke the silence by asking.
“I… I came here to vent my frustration, I guess. I don't know. I didn't even think I'd get to see you. I was surprised when you agreed to let me in.” Jessie could feel her cheeks getting hot. She was blushing, but hoped it wasn't noticeable.
“I don't know why I did,” John admitted. “To be honest, I'm sick of all these crazy stunts my wife pulls. In a way, I felt sorry that you'd been dragged into this. I wanted to apologize on her behalf, and that's just the thing. I do that an awful lot. Too much, in fact.” Jessie found herself staring at his lips while he spoke, and his voiced seemed to slow down as she sat captivated by his every movement.
She snapped back to reality with the reminder that a man like John Harwood would never be interested in a girl whose hair was hastily pulled into a messy updo. A girl who was dressed in stained clothes that smelled of onions and fried food. A girl who was wearing the same worn-down sneakers that she'd owned for six years.
“I should go,” she said, standing abruptly. “I need to find myself a new job and fast.”
“Is there anything I can do?” John stood up. “I feel terrible about this, Jessica.”
“I prefer to be called Jessie, but thank you. There's nothing you can do. It's done.” She headed to the door with John following her, and as they both reached for the handle his hand grazed hers in the process. It was large, Jessie noted, yet somehow still felt gentle and soft. She could feel a tingle shoot through her and noticed that John was now the one blushing.
“Let me get the door for you,” he said. No sooner was it open did his assistant, Heather Bryant, nervously spring to her feet to show Jessie out. She had been anxiously sitting outside the large, mahogany doors the entire time, waiting for the unscheduled meeting to reach its end.
“Everything all right?” Heather asked, oozing with curiosity.
“Everything is just fine,” John nodded with a warm smile before turning his gaze back to Jessie.
“It was truly a pleasure to meet you,” he said affectionately as he extended a big hand to her. She accepted it, simultaneously feeling his strength and gentleness as they shook goodbye.
“Likewise,” she replied. Their eyes stayed locked on one another's for a long moment, the attraction between them so obvious that his assistant had to interrupt the moment with a forced cough. Jessie couldn't help but smile back at him as Heather led her to the elevator.
On the ride back down to the lobby, again standing silently next to Heather Bryant, Jessie realized she'd walked away from their encounter with a far different feeling than she'd anticipated. She'd intended on ripping the man a new asshole, yet was so taken aback by his tender demeanor that her anger had morphed into something else entirely. There had been an electricity between them, slight but noticeable by them both, and she couldn't stop thinking about the warmth and sincerity of his blue eyes. This was a man she could see herself spending a lot more time with, and she kicked herself for leaving his office so suddenly. The second she had that thought, she scolded herself for acting like Melanie and fantasizing about a man she had no chance with. It was outlandish to think John Harwood would ever want anything to do with her. She convinced herself that she had misread the situation and chalked it up to the massive sleep debt she'd accrued over the past few days. He had been nice to her merely to diffuse a potential public relations fiasco and nothing more, she decided.
Back on the street, the severity of her dilemma hit her again. She was halfway through her college semester and now had no means to pay her way through the rest of it. She was also completely screwed when it came to rent, and that was due by Friday.
She walked the full hour back to her apartment in her worn
-out sneakers while contemplating stopping by the diner to beg Burt for another chance. Even if he did take her back, she didn't want to be held responsible for what she might do to Melanie if she saw her face again. All of this was her fault, and she wouldn't be forgetting that anytime soon. No, there had to be some other way around this mess and she was determined to find a way.
Chapter Four
A whole week had passed yet Jessie had still been unable to land another part time job. It wasn't for a lack of trying, either. She had submitted over twenty applications to businesses throughout the city but times were tough. In this time of recession nobody was hiring, and Jessie desperately tried not to pity herself by playing the race card. She assured herself that she wouldn't be getting any call backs even if she were white, and focused her energy on her studies while praying for her phone to ring with some job opportunity. On every application she had listed Burt's Diner as her previous place of employment. After getting fired in such an embarrassing manner, she doubted Burt would give her a glowing reference but didn't need to worry about that. Burt was somewhat of an eccentric man, and had taken apart the diner's old rotary phone to manually disconnect its ringer. He claimed it was because he hated the sound of ringing phones, but rumors quickly began to circulate that he did it to prevent employees calling out of work. He could still make outgoing calls with it, but if anybody were to dial the diner the phone would simply ring indefinitely. No, Jessie wasn't worried about a potential employer getting through to crafty ol' Burt Stiller.
Fastidious and resourceful, Jesse managed to make a little cash on the side doing some private tutoring, but it wasn't nearly enough money to cover her bills. She was getting desperate, was too prideful to ask the few friends she had for a loan, and they were all so broke they wouldn't have money to lend anyhow. Her father had walked out on her when she was only three-years-old, and her mother had passed away when she was fourteen. Her grandmother took her in, but she had gone in her sleep two years ago. She had no family to help her out and only had herself to rely on.
Her phone finally did ring early one morning, startling her awake as she frantically rushed to answer it and almost dropping it in her haste. She was certain this was somebody getting back to her regarding a job, and tried her best to sound alert and personable.
“Hello, this is Jessie,” she eagerly breathed into the receiver.
“Don't tell me you're still in bed?” It was a male voice she didn't recognize at first.
