Rock'n Tapestries (13 page)

I
felt the knot in my stomach relax. It had taken me five years, but I was
getting it. I resolved to push the future out of my mind and just enjoy the
now.

We
spent the night curled up next to each other, safely tucked away from the rest
of the world. 

The
next month was full of police officers asking a million questions. Every time I
thought I’d answered every conceivable thing they could possibly ask, they
found more.
What about this? What about that?  What happened after?
  I
relived that nightmare in my apartment over and over again. Needless to say, it
got old fast.

One
of the cops, an asshole named Neil, even insinuated a number of insulting and
unsavory things about my relationship with Scott. When I’d reached my breaking
point, I walked out.  I told them in no uncertain terms that I was
not
coming back. If they didn’t have enough information at that point, they were
the dumbest fucking people on the planet. 

They
soon labeled Scott’s death a suicide (Duh!) and left me alone.  I wish I could
say I was all right, but I struggled for a while.  I stayed at my parents’
house for two weeks while the cleanup crew my dad hired tidied up my
apartment.  I was scared to go back, but I knew I’d have to eventually.  You
just have to do things that terrify you sometimes.

The
first night back in my apartment was the worst, as you might imagine. Mom
offered to stay with me, but I said no. There were no outward signs of the violence
that had occurred there—no smells, nothing.  Yet I  still shook when I went to
bed that night.

It
wasn’t Scott’s face being shredded by the pistol I kept seeing.  It was the raw
despair I saw in his eyes just prior to his pulling the trigger.

The
internal circular arguments I was having nearly drove me nuts.  Had I caused
his death? Indirectly, I had. If only he’d been a little more compassionate
that day he had me in his office, I wouldn’t have had to rat him out. But if he
had
been understanding with me, he’d still be sexually harassing the
girls who worked at Tapestries, and that was just wrong on
all
levels. 
But I hadn’t wanted him to die...

Woulda.
Coulda. Shoulda.  I hated it. 

Tapestries
was closed for two weeks during and after Scott’s funeral.  Mr. Dreyfus just
couldn’t deal. Finally, Marybeth got the key and opened back up, thinking it
would be the best thing for all of us.  As usual, she was right.

The
first day back was subdued.  Marybeth said nothing and avoided all eye contact
with me. She clearly felt as bad—and as guilty—as I did over Scott’s death. I
let her be. We each had to work through this in our own way. 

As
the night wore on, we all opened up a bit more.  I saw some smiles then heard
some laughter.  Asher had taken it upon himself to liven the place up before
the Friday-night crowd arrived.  It was impossible not to laugh at his attempts
to juggle various things: corks, dishtowels, and shot glasses.  When he
attempted to move up to actual bottles of liquor, Marybeth put a stop to it
with a smile on her face. I knew then that we were going to be all right.

And
Asher and I?  Well, we were all right too.  I think we both knew that sleeping
together was a one-time thing.  I thought for sure he’d try to get me into bed
again, but he didn’t.  He was friendly, loving, supportive—all the things you’d
want in a guy—but I didn’t feel compelled to dip my toes in the water of Lake
Asher this time.  The fortress around my heart had held even though we’d been
intimate.  I had gotten as close to him as it’s possible for two humans to get
and hadn’t lost my head or my determination not to get all tangled up in him
again.

Was
there a part of me that wished we could have a relationship?  Of course. I knew
I would always feel that way about Asher. But we’d become great friends, and I
valued that as well. I’d learned not to waste time hoping for things that would
never be.   Perhaps there was something to this “hair of the dog” business
after all.

We
talked daily. He came to my apartment to cook for me, make repairs I didn’t
even know I needed, or just to sit with me when I was having a bad night.  I
asked nothing of him; he asked nothing of me.

This
made the things that happened next even more perplexing.

Have
you ever entered a room and everyone went silent, and you just
knew
they
were talking about you before you walked in?

I
reported to Tapestries on a Thursday two weeks after we reopened, and it felt
just like that. It was my first clue that things had changed.  It wasn’t subtle
either. It was like being hit in the face with a claw hammer.

The
first thing I noticed was the look Willow gave me before she ran into the back
room. Scared, and totally unwilling to face me. Marybeth glanced up and away,
and I got the feeling she was sorry she hadn’t had a chance to escape as well. 

I
could hear Tanya Simons gushing about something in the back room.  The hair on
my arms stood up for some reason as I listened. I massaged them back down.

Throwing
my purse onto the bar, I slid into one of the barstools in front of Marybeth. 
“Tanya sounds like she just laid an egg back there.  What’s got her so
excited?”

Marybeth
mumbled something under her breath, then inhaled and lifted her gaze to mine. 
“Chelsea, we have to talk.”

Just
then Tanya made an appearance in the bar, all smiles and bright eyes.  She made
a beeline for me. I had the strangest urge to run.

“Oh,
Chelsea, there you are.  I hate that I have to do this to you, but...with us
being coworkers and all...and I know how close you and Asher were...He asked me
out on a date, and I said I couldn’t accept until I talked to you and got your
okay. He said you weren’t seeing each other anymore.”

I
felt as though I’d been body-slammed.  I turned to her, speechless.  Asher and
I weren’t a thing, but I didn’t think he’d be so insensitive as to ask out one
of our coworkers. And anyway, Tanya was a brainless twit. Totally not his type.

When
I could finally breathe again, I said, “Asher is right.  We aren’t a thing
anymore. I really don’t care what he does.”  It came out more defensive than I
intended. Tanya’s eyes narrowed, and the corners of her mouth turned up in a
satisfied smile.  She was deliberately trying to goad me into a fight.

“Oh,
thank you. He’s
sooo
gorgeous, and he said he thought I was the
prettiest girl at Tapestries. I can’t wait to see him tonight. I’m going to
wear my tight little black dress. If that doesn’t make him lick his lips,
nothing
will.”

The
earthquake that started in my head rapidly shifted down to my heart.  I could
feel pieces of me falling, disintegrating into dust as they hit the ground.
Asher and I hadn’t promised anything to each other. So why did I feel as though
I were dying?

“I
hope the two of you have fun.” I said it as airily as I could manage.

She
narrowed her eyes again, zeroing in for the kill.  “Did you think he loved
you?  Sorry about that.”

“Do
you think he’ll ever love you?” I raised my eyebrows. “Sorry about that.” 

She
turned with a disgruntled
hmpph
and flounced away. Shaking
uncontrollably, I turned to Marybeth. She kept her eyes neatly averted from me,
but her cheeks were the color of a summer tomato.

“Marybeth,
what the hell...?”

“There’s
a part two to this story, Chelsea.”

I
held my breath. This was going to hurt. “And that would be...?”

“Asher
called about an hour ago.  He quit his job here.  He told me to tell you
goodbye, and that he never wants to see you again.”

And
with those few words, my world completed its spin into apocalyptic chaos.

How
do I even begin to describe the emotions I felt after that? There’s not a verb
or noun in the English language that goes there.

Pissed,
betrayed, devastated. Sad. Inadequate words for the goo that now comprised my
insides.

I
went home that night with Marybeth’s blessing.  I didn’t want to give Tanya
Simons the satisfaction of knowing my life had imploded, but neither did I want
her to see me after I’d had a good cry in the ladies’ room at Tapestries.   I’m
not a pretty crier.  I get the whole red-nose, puffy-eyes thing.

I
lay on my bed in my dark apartment that night and bawled my eyes out.  I kept
sobbing even after the tears dried up.  So many thoughts, so few which made
sense.

How? 
How could he be so callous after everything that had happened between us? What
had prompted his flight this time?  I hadn’t told him I loved him.  I hadn’t
asked anything more of him than his friendship. 

In
fact, he was the one responsible for the fact that we were even talking again. 
I hadn’t gone to his place of employment and gotten a job to be near him, had
I?

What
are you so afraid of, Asher Pratt?

Even
as I tried to make sense of it, I knew there was nothing about this man that
made sense. 
He
didn’t even know what it was about us that frightened
him so much.  I had taken a chance in letting him into my life again. 
Was
it worth it, Whitaker?

I
thought it was. In my heart of hearts, I’d known this day was coming.  Asher
was untouchable, untamable, that one guy you just can’t get to. That was never
going to change.

As
hurt and humiliated as I was, I had a strange sense of gratification.   He
hadn’t been lying when he told me he loved me at Christmas. He loved me as much
as he’d ever loved any woman.  Tanya would
never
get that from him. 

I’m
surprised I didn’t drown in my own tears and snot that weekend. I went through
three boxes of tissues.  I soothed myself by remembering what had been good
about us. For one thing, I didn’t hate him anymore. 

My
grandmother had a saying: just when the caterpillar thought life was over, it
turned into a beautiful butterfly.

I
needed to find a way to become a butterfly.

I’m
proud to say I got through the Weekend of Many Tears and came out the other
side with at least a handle on some perspective.  Though I’d enjoyed being
around Asher—being his friend—I’d withheld my heart this time. I hadn’t allowed
myself to get sucked in.  It made all the difference in the world.

I
got up on Tuesday morning, pinched my cheeks, grinned at myself in the mirror,
and did a deep soul search trying to find a fake-it-till-you-make-it attitude. 
I was sure I had some internal healing to do yet, but by God, at least I was
going to look okay on the outside.

When
I got to Tapestries that afternoon, Marybeth had a big ol’ smile for me. It
made me feel so much better.  Willow approached me cautiously, but when she saw
that I was pretty much back to normal, she relaxed. 

I
was able to ignore Tanya Simons, then and in subsequent nights.  After a week
or so, she called in and quit too.  Marybeth said she was crying so hard the
night she quit that she could barely understand her. I knew I was making
assumptions, but I could guess why.

Things
settled into a routine, but it was far from normal. We were all still shaken up
about Scott, though no one spoke of it. With Mr. Dreyfus still not himself and
absent most of the time, we clearly needed a manager at Tapestries.  Marybeth
was good, but she liked being a bartender. She didn’t want the responsibility
of running the bar.

So…one
week and three days after Asher disappeared, I managed to land myself a bona
fide miracle:  six feet, two inches of blond, blue-eyed, well-muscled Swede
named Tage Sorenson.  Mr. Dreyfus had hired him to manage Tapestries.

Marybeth
was not behind the bar as usual the day I met him.  I threw my purse on the bar
and called for her.

“Chelsea,
I’m back here,” she called from the back room.  “Can you come back for a
minute?  I have someone I want you to meet.”

I
grabbed my purse and followed her voice.

She
was showing him the freezer. He wore a black silk shirt that day. My stare
automatically dropped a few notches to the tight jeans molded around a muscular
ass.  I don’t go for muscle-bound types, but I think I might’ve had to scoop my
jaw off the ground.

The
silk shirt clung to his back like a second skin, accentuating the wide
shoulders and narrow waist. Hair the color of spun gold just brushed the collar
of the shirt. I don’t go for blonds either, but Jesus...  He was like a
gorgeous mountain standing in the back room. 

I
could
feel
him.  He had an aura or something. I still don’t understand
what kind of pulse he was throwing off, but he was a physical presence
inside
me
.  Even Asher hadn’t had that strong of an effect on me.

 I
sucked in air as he turned around. My gaze focused on the center of his chest,
past the four or five buttons that were undone, to the expanse of delicious
skin beneath, then I lifted it to look into the most compelling pair of Nordic
blue eyes I’d ever seen. My very own, personal Viking god.

He
smiled.  My heart stopped; my lungs turned to stone.  I heard Marybeth ask,
“Chelsea? Are you okay?”

When
she hit me on the arm, it caused a stupid smile to break out on my face. “Hi!”
I chirped.  Doh!

She
frowned at me then gestured at him.  “This is Tage Sorenson.  He’s been hired
to manage Tapestries. It’s his first day here, so I hope you’ll all take it
easy on him.”

I
would take him any way I could get him. Easy. Hard. Rough. Whatever.

“I’m
sorry, Tage. This is Chelsea Whitaker. She seems to be having a dumb day
today.” Marybeth impaled me with a stern look.  “She’s one of our best
waitresses.  If you have any questions, and you can’t find me, you should ask
her.  She’ll have an answer for you.”

“Chelsea,
it’s delightful to meet you.” He stuck out his hand, and I took it.  All I can
remember is how hot his eyes were, even hotter than his touch.

“Yeah,”
I squeaked. Marybeth hit me again, nearly knocking me over. My manners finally
kicked in.  “It’s nice to meet you too, Tage.  I’d be happy to answer any
questions you might have.”

 I
swallowed.
Or run my hands over your naked body. Or carry your babies for
you.

The
smile that broke out on his face was radiant.  He held on to my hand and pulled
me toward him slightly.  “I may have to play dumb just so I can ask you
questions.”

Marybeth
snorted. I just about peed my pants.

We
connected right away, Tage and I. We had great chemistry. He was thirty-one
years old with a Bachelor’s degree in hotel and restaurant management from Penn
State.  He was a charming tease, funny as hell, and quite smart.

I
don’t know what he saw in me, but it didn’t take long for me to realize Tage
had a crush on me. I was elated and intrigued, and more than willing to go down
that road.  I actually looked forward to coming to work.

Our
first date was a night at the movies, but we were more interested in each
other. I don’t even remember what the movie was. We talked so much during the
flick that they nearly threw us out. I found myself staring at his mouth as he
talked, wondering what those full pink lips would feel like on mine.  Asher
Pratt soon took a back seat to everything. It wasn’t long before I opened the
door and dropped him off by the side of the road.  I didn’t even wave as I left
him behind.

Three
days after our first date, Tage came into Tapestries with a big ol’ Cheshire
cat grin on his face.  He found me in the kitchen preparing salads for that
night.

“You
doing anything next Saturday?”  He canted his head and gave me a mischievous
glance.

“Working
here,” I replied as I ripped up lettuce. “Saturdays are dance nights, and they
need all available hands.”

“Well,
there ought to be some perks if you’re going to date the manager, right?”

I
grabbed a towel and dried my hands as I grinned at him. “Am I dating the
manager?” 

The
smile left his face, replaced by a more serious look. “Chelsea, I’ve never had
so much fun with anyone in my life as I did with you at the movies.  Nearly
being thrown out of the theater notwithstanding...,” he cleared his throat,”
I’d have to say it was the best date I’ve ever been on. I don’t want it to be
the last.”

I
didn’t either. I’d been hoping he would ask me out again. I couldn’t put my
finger on what it was about him, but I knew I wanted more.  He was easy to talk
to,  charming, and attentive.  And it didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous.

I
certainly wasn’t used to a man baring his soul like that and being honest about
his feelings.  I was speechless for a moment.   I gazed up into his eyes; my
mouth opened and closed several times.

“Well?”
he prompted. “Say something...”

“I’m...I
don’t want it to be our last date either.” I laughed nervously. If he was going
to be honest with me, I would do the same with him.  “I can’t stop thinking
about you, Tage. I’d be happy to go out with you again.”

He
blew out a relieved breath.  “Great, because I already made the arrangements.”

“For
what?”

“Do
you have a little black dress, naughty high heels, and some bling you could put
on?”

I
laughed.  “Doesn’t every woman?”

“Good.
Put them on next Saturday.  I arranged for both of us to be off that night.
I’ll pick you up at five o’clock.”

“Where
are we going?”

He
bit his lip and smiled.  “It’s a surprise.”

I’ve
never been so nervous and excited all at the same time. I think I started
getting ready at noon the next Saturday. I wanted to look perfect, no matter
where we ended up.

He
picked me up at five o’clock sharp. He was dressed in a full black tux and
looked like a million bucks.  It was the car that got my attention though. A
silver Porsche 911.  My eyes just about fell out of my head.

“Holy
shit!” I said as he opened the door for me. “Is this your car?”

“It’s
my uncle’s actually, but I’m negotiating to buy it off of him. Consider tonight
a test drive. I value your opinion. You’ll have to let me know at the end of
our date if I should take it or not.”

It
was on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t say it. 
How can you afford a car
like this on your wages from Tapestries?
  Either he was being paid a
helluva lot more than I thought, or there were some things I needed to find out
about Tage Sorenson.

I
really knew very little about him personally.    I’d read his resume after he
was hired at Tapestries, so I knew his work history and educational
background.  We’d kept it light and airy during our first date at the movies,
not really asking too many questions of each other.  I had a feeling tonight we
were going to dig a little deeper.

We
drove past Tapestries on East Carson Street, soon dropping down into Station
Square along the Monongahela River.   After he backed into a parking space, he
shut off the motor and turned to me.

“Ready?”

“For
what? What are we doing tonight?”  Pittsburgh’s Station Square was like a small
city unto itself, with numerous shops, bars, and nightclubs.   We could’ve been
going any number of places as dressed up as we were.

His
eyes twinkled as he took my hand and pressed it to his lips.  “My lovely
Chelsea, would you do me the honor of dining with me aboard the Gateway Clipper
tonight?”

“No
way!” I’d always wanted to take a dinner cruise up the river on the fabled
Gateway Clipper, but never had.

“Yes
way.  I have reservations for the two of us for the Captain’s Dinner Dance. 
Just you and me and a bottle of wine, under the stars.  I can’t think of
anything more perfect, can you?”

I
felt the ice that imprisoned my heart crack and break away. It then took two
steps to the left, toward this wonderful, thoughtful man who’d dropped into my
life just when I needed him most.

Tage
bought me two large bouquets of mixed flowers from one of the outside vendors
before we boarded. I didn’t know what I was going to do with them on the boat,
but he insisted that I have them.