Rock'n Tapestries (8 page)

“Scott?” 
There was a note of horror in Mr. Dreyfus’s voice.

“That’s
not true…” Scott looked like a cornered animal.

“It’s
true, Bob,” Marybeth said softly.  “Ask any one of the girls that work here. 
They’ll tell you.” 

“Scott?” 
Mr. Dreyfus’s head did a funny little jerk as he swiveled to look at his son. 
“You know how I feel about that sort of thing.”

Scott
turned purple and stared at this dad.

“I
want an explanation, son. If Chelsea and Marybeth are lying, I’ll fire them. 
But I can’t defend you if I don’t hear your side of things.  If I ask the other
girls about you, what will they tell me?”

Scott
dropped his head, guilt all over his face.  Mr. Dreyfus exhaled all at once and
straightened.  His hands were shaking.  I felt bad for him.  

“I’m
sorry to have to do this, Scott, but you’re fired.”

Marybeth
and I both looked up. Shock ran through me like an electric current.  This was
certainly turning out to be the day from hell. For
all
of us.

“Dad!”
Scott’s eyes were wide as he stared at his father.

“You’ve
put us in a terrible position here.  Demanding sexual favors for better pay and
hours opens us up to all kinds of lawsuits, son.  If one of them would have
complained...Well, now that I know what you’ve been doing, I have to fire you. 
I have no choice.  I’m sorry. I had hoped one day to hand the keys to
Tapestries over to you, but I don’t think you’re adult enough to handle it.”

Scott
narrowed his eyes and canted his head just a little.  The look he shot Marybeth
and me gave me a chill. Scott had a mean streak a mile wide, and we’d both just
painted a bull’s eye on our backs.  There were no winners here.

Scott
whirled, rammed the door with the heel of his hand, and disappeared in a cloud
of obscenities.

“I’m
sorry.” Mr. Dreyfus turned to us.  “Marybeth, you should’ve told me.”

“We
were afraid of him, Mr. Dreyfus.” I was shaking so hard I could barely speak.
“Scott isn’t the nicest person when he’s crossed.”

He
sighed again, a long, tortured sigh.  He suddenly looked like a very old man.
“I knew that. I guess I hoped working here would mature him. I’m so sorry,
ladies.”

Reactions
from the other waitresses that night ran the gamut from glares to grins. Some
of the girls didn’t mind trading sex for perks, but most of them were glad
Scott was gone. Willow hadn’t slept with him either, but he’d certainly been
applying the pressure. She nearly wept with relief.

I
still felt sick about what had happened, but when a few of my fellow servers
thanked me, it made it all worth it. No one...
no one...
should have to
work under those conditions.

Guilt
kept sneaking in, and I fought to push it aside.  If Scott Dreyfus would’ve
shown even a little distress about my near-abduction, I’d have kept my mouth
shut. 

Asher
was horrified when he found out what Scott had done to me. Really.  I wondered
if it was just an act, but it didn’t seem like it.

“God,
Chels, that was mighty fucking brave of you.  I didn’t like the way he looked
at the girls here, but I had no idea he was...”  Asher kissed my bruised cheek
and pulled me into his arms for a hug. I let him. It was the hug of a
friend—nothing more. I was surprised when I didn’t feel anything but relief.

“It’s
over now.  I don’t want to keep talking about it.”

“How
do you think Scott will take it?” He stood me back and looked down at me.

I
glanced up into Asher’s face, stared right into his eyes. I didn’t feel a
thing.  There was no reaction from the rest of my body either.  Was I just too
upset to react to him, or was Marybeth’s “immolation by Asher” working?

“He
won’t take it well.  The girls and I have agreed to walk each other out to our
cars at night.  He’s afraid of Marybeth, but he’s never liked me. I wouldn’t
give in and sleep with him.”

“If
he lays a hand on you again, he’s a dead man.” Asher sounded fierce.  I was too
numb to psycho-analyze his tone.

 Black
Friday was upon us. Pittsburgh goes
nuts
on Black Friday.  Bumper to
bumper traffic, short-tempered people yelling at each other in the stores, long
lines trailing out of every restaurant. To make things worse, they play all
that schmaltzy Christmas music in the background.  It’s worse than a Steelers’
home game.  Yeah, not interested in being out there in that insanity.

I
always offered to work a double on that day. First, because I’m not a hard-core
shopper. I’ll do my Christmas shopping when things settle down a bit, thank
you.  Second, it’s the day we put up all of the trees and decorations at
Tapestries.  I loved to do that! 

I
stared down at Asher’s torso as he lay on the floor, his head and shoulders
hidden under the branches of a fake spruce.  He was trying to level it for me
so I could decorate it.  Unfortunately, I was preoccupied with staring at the
bulge in his jeans.  As far as I knew, there was no law that said I couldn’t
look, right?

“Chelsea!” 

“What?”

“Did
you hear a word I said?”

“No.”

“What
the hell are you doing up there?”

“None
of your business.” I tried to stifle a giggle and snorted instead.

One
hand came out from under the tree and cupped his crotch area.  “Are you
checking me out?”

I
snorted again.  “No.”   Then I thought about his package being under the tree
and what a great gift that was. I laughed out loud.  “Yes!”

“Well,
stop it until we get these trees up.  Can I take you out for Taco Bell
tonight?  Then you can molest me with your eyes all you want.”

“Sure!”
I was in a very festive mood. ” I’m on until midnight though.”

He
slid out from under the tree and sat up with a smile.  He had on a white
T-shirt and tight jeans.  I thought he looked a lot like James Dean.

“That
makes two of us then. Now... I’m going back under here, and I want you to tell
me whether it’s straight or not. Focus on the
tree
, Chelsea Whitaker.”
He lay back down and shimmied under the branches. “If you can.”

I
laughed again, a sound of pure delight that bubbled up from a happy place
inside me.  It was one of those days that I was just glad to be alive.

Tapestries
was beautiful when we were done.  There were lights and a tree in the foyer,
blue icicle lights hanging from the mirror behind the bar, a huge eight-foot
blue spruce stood in one corner of the dining room (complete with wrapped presents
beneath it), and mistletoe hung from the lights over the booths. I sighed and
clapped my hands together.  A job well done.

Thankfully,
we hadn’t been very busy that night, what with everyone out shopping.  With all
the extra hands, we’d gotten everything up in record time.  The holiday spirit
inside Tapestries would’ve made even old Mr. Scrooge smile.

Willow
came up beside me, dusting her hands together.  “I finally got the lights on
the foyer tree working.  I had to replace the one strand.”

“It
looks wonderful!” I was beaming.  “I love Christmas.”

“Me
too.  Hey, you on tomorrow?”

“Yeah,
as always.”

“See
you then.” Flashing a smile, Willow disappeared through the foyer door.

Asher
came out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a blue-and-white dishtowel. 
He’d been cleaning the spouts on the liquor bottles in preparation for the
crowd the following day.

“You
just about ready to go?” he asked me.

“Yep.” 
I took one last look around the room, glowing brightly in whites, blues, and
golds.  Even the elf sitting on the bar shelf looked happy, his knees drawn up
to his chest, eyes shifted to the right. I smiled warmly at Asher. “Thanks for
everything today.  It went a lot easier with you here.  You are a handyman of
the highest order.”

“Oh,
so you think my working here is a
good
thing now, do you?” His eyes
twinkled merrily as he stared at me.

I
pretended to give it some thought, and he tickled me.  I laughed and dodged
away from him. “Why, yes.  Yes, I do.”

“For
such a small woman, you sure do put away the groceries.” Asher eyed my three
tacos and two burritos as he sat down in front of me with his tray.

“Well,
I didn’t have any lunch, really. Just a small salad that Marybeth shoved under
my nose on my way through the kitchen once.  I was busy and forgot to eat.”

“Who
forgets to eat?” Asher laughed.

“I
do sometimes, when I’m doing something I love. Like reading, walking, or
decorating for Christmas.”  I picked up one of the tacos and took a big crunchy
bite.  As I was chewing, I came up with a great idea.

“Hey,
would you like to go Christmas shopping sometime?  Or are you done already?” 

He
got this sad, startled expression on his face and dropped his gaze from mine. 
“I don’t really have anyone to shop for.”

“Oh,
c’mon!  No uncles or grandparents or cousins?  No one?”

He
shook his head and gave me an unreadable look.  “My family dwindled down to
one—me— when my mother died.”

 I
stared at him, horrified at the thought that he would spend the most wonderful
family-oriented day of the year alone. “What do you do on Christmas Day then?”

“I
do put up a small tree, mostly because my mother loved Christmas. I decorate a
little. I cook a turkey breast and watch the parades. Last year, I bought
myself a brand new Les Paul guitar from Pianos N’ Stuff up in Blawnox.  I
wrapped it and everything, though it wasn’t much of a surprise when I opened
it.”  Asher gave me a weak smile. I felt my heart crack cleanly in half. 

I
dropped the taco onto the paper on my tray and wiped my hands with a napkin. 
“That settles it. You’re coming to our house for Christmas.”

His
mouth dropped open then snapped shut.  “Oh, I couldn’t possibly...I don’t want
to intrude.”

“I’m
not taking no for an answer.”

“Chelsea...”

“There
is no way I’m letting you spend Christmas alone.  Don’t even think about it. My
parents would be horrified if they knew you sat home by yourself. It’s out of
the question. You’ll pack some things and stay overnight with us. I think we
both have to work early on Christmas Eve, but we close at noon. You can just
ride home with me.”

A
hopeful spark lit his eyes from within as he glanced up at me.  I could see
that Asher was lonely, though he took great pains to hide it from everyone.  I
wondered if that was why he’d taken the job at Tapestries.  Even though you’re
on the clock, working at a bar is somewhat like a party.

“If
you don’t think your parents would mind, I’d like to spend Christmas with you.”
He grinned.  “So...when can we go shopping?”

Asher
dragged me from one end of Pittsburgh to the other the next weekend.  He was
like a little boy discovering Christmas all over again.  It made me want to cry
as I watched him dart in and out of stores with bags in his hands, his eyes
alight with pleasure.  To think that he’d spent several Christmases by himself
made me heartsick.

He
got my dad a Lowe’s gift card and a scarf with a guitar on it, just like the
one he often wore.  He got my mom a foot massager, an apple-scented Yankee
Candle and some things from Bath and Body Works.  I didn’t do much shopping
that day. I was content just to watch him.

“Do
you want me to take your packages home with me and wrap them for you?” I took
some of his bags from him as we walked toward the exit of the Monroeville Mall.
The handles on the bags were strangling his fingers. Several of them were
already blue.

“You
can take them home, but make sure you hide them.” Asher spun around and walked
backward in front of me.  “And I don’t want you to wrap them.  Can we do it
Christmas Eve, when I come over?  I want us to do it together. I’ll buy the
wrapping paper.”

“What?
You think we don’t have any wrapping paper at my house?” I smiled as my heart
soared into the air and exploded like a roman candle, just as warning bells
sounded in my head. He was so very fucking adorable, but that was as far as it
could go.  I didn’t dare let him get under my skin.

We
had a light crowd on Christmas Eve morning at Tapestries. Mostly, our patrons
just wanted to come in and have a shot or some eggnog and wish us Merry
Christmas before they rushed off to their own celebrations. It was snowing
slightly, which added to the happy atmosphere. Everyone was all smiles, even
Marybeth. She was seeing a new guy, and it was apparently going well.

She
was cleaning up behind the bar in preparation for quitting time. “Yeah, Sam and
I are going to a party then heading to my place to open gifts.  I’m making
lasagna for Christmas Day....”

“
Lasagna?”
Willow and I said it at the same time before glancing at each other.

“Yes,
lasagna
.” Marybeth sounded annoyed, but she was smiling.  “Who said
dinner on Christmas Day had to be turkey or ham? I’m half-Italian, you know. We
have our own way of doing things. What are yunz doing tonight?”

“Asher’s
coming home with me to celebrate with my family. I didn’t want him to be alone.
We’ll probably just eat, drink, and laugh all night,” I said as I pushed a wide
broom across the gleaming hardwood floor.