Rock'n Tapestries

by Shari Copell

  “Getting a pair of shorts out of my car. Not that it’s any of your business.” I crossed my arms in front of me and looked away.

  He stood, looking perplexed. “Shorts? For what?”

  “I was going to put them on under my skirt—a short skirt that you insist we wear. I was tired of your precious customers putting their hands on my ass! I don’t understand why we can’t just wear a pair of black shorts and a Tapestries T-shirt when we’re serving. This is not the first time this has happened to me. The other girls too. And you don’t seem to care.”

  He snickered. “Tits and ass sell more drinks. The customers like to look at the girls’ asses when they drink. So do I. If you’d have stayed in the bar, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  That was it. I was done. I shot up out of my chair, fists clenched. “How dare you blame me for what happened, you misogynistic jackass! Tits and ass sell drinks, do they? That sounds an awful lot like sexual harassment to me!”

  The son-of–a-bitch actually had the nerve to run his knuckles across my cheek. “Why won’t you play nice with me, Chelsea? I’d let you wear anything you wanted if you’d give me a little taste of that sweet slice you have between your legs.”

  I drew back and hit him across the face as hard as I’ve ever hit anything in my life. In fact, my fist was only half-closed when it met his cheekbone. My hand hurt like hell. I was sure I’d broken a couple of fingers.

  Unfortunately, I’d pushed him to his own breaking point. He staggered back, recovered, and came after me, clutching my upper arms in a death grip. He let go and backhanded me, and I swear I heard bells ring. I collapsed back into the chair, hand to my left cheek, my head spinning.

  Marybeth must’ve been standing right outside. She launched through the door at Scott, fists flying, trying to finish what I’d started. Scott retreated behind the desk and grabbed the baseball bat he had there. Marybeth backed off, but she was so mad she was snorting.

  The ruckus we were making was bound to attract someone’s attention. Soon enough, Bob Dreyfus stood in the doorway with a bewildered look on his face.

  “What the glorious hell is going on in here?” He glanced between the three of us.

  Scott sounded as though he were going to cry when he spoke. “I want these two bitches from hell fired, Dad! They assaulted me!”

  “It this true?” I could feel Mr. Dreyfus’s gaze on me.

  I only had one shot at an explanation. I inhaled, tried to calm myself, and lifted my gaze to Mr. Dreyfus. “I was nearly kidnapped last night by a couple of customers. Marybeth and Asher saved me. If you’ll just give me a chance to tell you what happened...”

  “Dad! Surely you aren’t going to listen to anything this little bitch has to say! She hit me!”

  I rubbed my cheek and glared at Scott. “Only after you asked me for sex. Does your father know that you treat the waitresses here like your own personal harem? Does he know how many of the girls have given in and slept with you to get a bigger share of the tips and a better schedule?”

  Up until now, this had been an open secret. I wasn’t about to let this asshole make me the bad guy. We would all be fired after this for sure, but I wasn’t keeping quiet anymore.

  “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.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  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.

  Tanya Simons, a new hire at Tapestries, walked by me just then. “Lucky girl! Asher’s a hottie!”

  “It’s not like that, Tanya. Not anymore,” I told her. Marybeth just smiled her ”wise witch” smile and continued to clean up.

  Soon enough it was noon. We locked the door and had a small employee Christmas party then headed out about 2:00 p.m., each of us to celebrate in our own way.

  My mom was already home from her job at State Farm Insurance when we got to the house. Dad called to say he was just closing up the small machine shop we owned and would be home soon.

  Asher and I grabbed some tape, scissors, and gift wrap and stole away up to my room, giggling like children. I was glad to have him there. The Whitaker family Christmas Eve always involved take-out pizza and the opening of gifts, after which Mom usually stuck her nose in a book and Dad fell asleep on the couch. Tonight I would have someone to talk to, perhaps watch a movie with.

  Asher looked rather befuddled when I retrieved the gifts that he’d purchased from my closet and laid them on the floor in front of him. “I’m afraid I don’t know the first thing about wrapping gifts.”

  “Didn’t I hear you say you wrapped your guitar last year?”

  “Yes, but no one saw it. I did a terrible job. I don’t want your mom and dad to think I’m an idiot.”

  “They won’t think you’re an idiot just because you can’t wrap a gift. My dad sucks at it too, so he always hands it off to my mom. I’ll show you how.” I picked up the foot massager, which was in a fairly large box. “We’ll start with this one. It’ll be easy.”

  We cut, taped, laughed, and wrapped, then laughed some more. Being his friend was turning out to be so much easier than being his lover. I was glad I had taken Marybeth’s advice. In fact, everything was going better than I had dared to hope for. At least until I reached across to get the tape he’d dropped beside him.