Tate (2 page)

I turned to look at her. “That sounded like a bark. Really, Audra?” I said in a soft voice.

“It’s quite alright, I’m used to it,” the woman said sweetly, but I noticed that the smile she directed to Audra was the biggest, phoniest smile I’d ever seen. She glanced my way and quickly looked back to Audra. “What are we doing today?”

As she spoke, I looked at her, and I swear I saw sugar rolling off her tongue. I wanted to laugh.

“He needs these shirts taken in, and if there’s a way to tighten those jeans up, do it. Got it, Maisie?” Audra continued to order.

“Don’t I always?”

She smiled again, and I believed that the sparkle in her eyes was so bright, the stars must be jealous. She was sitting down. Everything about her said she was small, but I figured by her remarks that she could handle her own. She had curly, long dark hair. As she moved, there was a reddish brightness to it when the light hit it. Her eyes were the brightest blue I’d ever seen. I just wanted to keep staring at her – she was stunning.

Audra was still barking orders to her. “We’ll need a tux and a couple of suits taken in as well, but these jeans and shirts are priority, and we need them fast. Two weeks, tops,” she commanded. “Tux in time for the GRAMMY Awards. Are we on the same page?”

“Whatever you need. You know I always take care of your clients. By the way, you can tell Ami to call to schedule her fitting.”

Audra snapped a few more orders then turned to me. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Three o’clock - my office,” she said, and left.

I turned to Maisie. “Tate Morrow,” I said, extending my hand. “We weren’t properly introduced.” When she touched mine in return, I felt sparks. No. No, it wasn’t sparks - it was a friggin’ jolt that shook me to my core. “Damn, is she always that bitchy to you?”

“She is.”

“Why didn’t you bark back?” I asked.

“I’m used to it.”

“Where I come from, people treat people with respect,” I said, and felt myself getting pissed.

“Not from around here, are you? No one trying to make it is. You’ll figure it out after you’ve been around for a while. It’s her way of letting me know she thinks she’s superior because of who she
thinks
she is. I’m just the seamstress, not someone important in her book, but I know she needs me. Sadly, I need her, too. She brings a great deal of work to me. But I know who she really is.”

“Do tell,” I urged.

“She’s just a pimp for up-and-comers. She’ll throw you to the wolves when the next ‘big thing’ comes along. I’ve seen it before.”

“Candid,” I laughed.

“Honest,” she replied, with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Wait, that means you don’t think I’m gonna be a ‘big thing’?”

“No clue. Now go change. Shirts first. I need you to put them on wrong side out so I can pin them.”

I watched her get up and come from behind the sewing machine, and smiled. “How tall are you?”

“Not very.”

I laughed, and she grinned.

I went into the room she directed me to and changed.

“Why do the dang shirts need tailoring, anyway?” I grumbled as I exited the room. “I’ve been wearing pearl-snap shirts since I was like twelve…”

“Not in front of adoring female fans that will fantasize about your body,” she interrupted, sarcastically, as she moved closer to me. “Audra wants to make fantasizing easier.”

“Five foot nuthin’,” I said. She was very petite, wearing little black shoes with no heel.

“What?” she asked, grabbing a tomato-looking thing stuck full of pins.

“You aren’t even five foot, are you?”

“Five foot one,” she corrected me.

“That some kind of voodoo tomato?” I asked, and finally, she laughed. I liked the sound of it.

“I guess it will be now. Raise your arms,” she said.

At 6’4”, when I did, she practically stood beneath my arm as she started working on the side of the shirt. She moved around me like a pixie - I kept waiting to see the sparkle dust she left behind as she moved. I felt her hands, cool, as they touched me to pin in two different places, and then she moved around to the other side. Finally, she ran her hands up my chest, feeling the fit she was trying to achieve. I swear, I was afraid I’d get a hard-on right there in front of her and have no place to hide.

“How does that feel?” she asked.

FUCKING AMAZING!
I wanted to yell. “Tight,” I said instead.

“It’s not tight. It’s just not baggy like you’re used to. This is exactly what Audra wants. I’ve worked with her for a while now. I can mark the rest of the shirts from this one. Go put on a pair of the jeans – wrong side out, too. It won’t be easy, but you need to zip them up and fasten them. They’re all the same brand, right?”

“Yeah. Wranglers.”

“Good, then I only need to pin one pair. Audra will want them snug, especially in the crotch.”

“What about what I want?” I asked.

“What you want won’t matter much for a while. You’ll get used to others telling you how it’s going to be until you get big enough to make your own rules. Right now it’ll be tight shirts and snug jeans. Now go change.”

“Wait. My crotch? You’ll be pinning down there?”

“I do this for a living. If you have a problem with it I can have my assistant, Dion, do it. He’ll be here in about an hour. You can wait,” she said, and turned to walk away.

“No, wait. It’ll be fine,” I said, and prayed. I found this woman attractive and that whole hard-on thing was kind of freaking me out.

She pinned and chalk-marked the rear and hips, then rolled a chair in front of me. I swear I was sweating bullets. She was right there, sitting in front of me, my stuff right at eye level.

Dear God, please…
I prayed like when I was a fifteen-year old boy with a hard on, standing in front of my hot English teacher in ninth grade.

“Before I start, I need to let you know that I’ll be working on this seam. I hope I don’t slip and pin something I shouldn’t, so stand still,” she said, and grabbed the crotch of the jeans.

I heard the devil’s laugh, but when I looked at her all I saw was an angel’s face. She tugged to get a better hold of the seam. When she did, it made me step forward.

“Hey! I don’t know anything about you, and you’re being all kinds of personal down there!”

“You can wait for Dion,” she said, not missing a beat.

“But I still don’t know anything about you,” I prodded.

“Nothing you need to know but my name, and you’ve got that,” she said, still working, not looking up.

“Married?”

“Stand still. Are you gonna be able to perform?”

“I perform best without my jeans.”

She looked up, and by the look on her face, I knew that she wasn’t amused. At. All. “Not gonna answer me about being married?” I asked, nudging her for more.

“You’re here for me to tailor some clothes so you’ll look pretty on stage. Now, will you be able to perform?”

I watched her. Finally, she looked away. I’d blown it. She’d shut down. I looked around and saw a broom in the corner. Carefully, I walked over and grabbed it. Holding it like a guitar, I started to sing, making a play on the words of a song my sisters used to dance to.

I like big trucks

And I can’t deny

I’m a guy

I’ve got big dreams

I’ve got a dog

And big’ol truck

I’m a guy

With lots’a little play things.

I got a boat, a hog

And ‘bout a million bucks…

“They’re good,” I said, putting the broom back.

“Everything will be ready for someone to pick up in two weeks, just like Audra said. Bring me the tux and suits as soon as Audra picks them out.” She turned away and went back toward the sewing machine.

I’d been dismissed.

I changed and headed for the door. “Thanks. It was nice meeting you,” I said, but she didn’t look up. “See ya,” I added, but she still didn’t acknowledge me. I stepped out the door some kind of pissed off and ran smack into a tall, slender, dark-haired man.

“Whoa-up there, handsome cowboy,” he said. “You must be Tate Morrow.” He dragged my name out and the end sounded like a coo. “Oh, and you’ve got that look like you just got pissed away by the Ice Queen. Dion Rouselle,” he said.

“Nice to meet you. What’s her deal?”

“She’s a loner,” he said, shifting the package he was holding. “If you got more than ten words out of her, you get a medal. She talks to me because she has to. I’m her design partner. She has to tell me what she needs. Did you see the sparkly red number she’s working on? One of Ami Woodson’s dresses for the GRAMMY Awards, and there are three more almost ready. That bitch’ll wear Maisie out, changing her mind…”

“Yeah, red sparkles. Why doesn’t she talk to anyone?” I asked.

“She’s a mess.”

“Meaning?” I asked, trying not to get frustrated.

“Oh, please. I don’t go gettin’ all up in her shit. I gotta go, cowboy. I’m on sequin patrol,” he said, and pushed through the door.

“Cowboy,” I laughed, knowing he was checking me out.

I walked away, but I knew that my intrigue, and my need to know more, would eventually win. 

***

A week later, I returned with the suits and the tuxedo. I couldn’t wait to take them to the shop. I’d been thinking about Maisie since the moment I’d walked out last week. I timed my trip to get there just before she closed for the day. I knew I should have called for an appointment, but I wanted to see her again and I didn’t want her ready to see me.

“Hey there,” I said as I entered.

“Hello. I need a minute to finish this and then I’ll be right with you,” she said, all businesslike.

She finished and turned to hang what she’d been working on a garment rack behind her. With her back turned to me, I took a good look. She was wearing jeans that hugged a tight round butt. People use the word petite, but all that came to my mind was small. She was just small. As she reached, her shirt rode up and I saw creamy white skin that peeked from beneath the shirt’s hem. She turned back around and caught me looking at her. She quickly pulled her shirt back in place, her face remaining blank and professional.

“We just finished the jeans and shirts. I didn’t know you were coming, but they’re ready. I finished quicker than Audra demanded.” It was small, but there was a proud smile on her face. “I had a cancellation this afternoon, so I can fit you for these now if you have time.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ve got time.” I watched her watch me.

“Well? Go on,” she said. “First, I’ll need you to slip the suit pants on - you know the drill. We’ll get those out of the way, and then the jackets.”

“Did you miss me?” I asked. I hadn’t moved. I believe I could look at that face all day.

“Who are you?” she asked with a smirk. “Pants. Go.” She shooed me away.

I stepped out with the suit pants on and saw her on the rolling stool waiting.

“Here we go again, you touchin’ around my junk. I think if we’re gonna be this close, I need to know a little more about you.”

“Dion!” she called out.

“No, no. I’ll behave,” I laughed.

“Good, because I think he thinks you’re cute,” she snickered. “He’s not here, anyway.”

“Why are you so short?” I asked.

“What does Lady Gaga say? ‘Baby I was born this way’,” she said with a smug look.

“Not what I meant, but you are ‘bout the littlest thing I’ve ever seen. You remind me of an Elton John song.”
Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band…
I began to sing.

“Original,” she said, and I saw her try not to smile. “Please, stand still.”

I let her do her work. Finally, when the pins were no longer in my personal danger zone, I turned to her. “I’m gonna make it a mission to figure you out. I need to know what makes Maisie tick.”

“Don’t waste your time,” she replied, followed by a sad smile. It reminded me of what Dion had said. “She’s a mess.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Go change into the tux pants,” she said, slamming the door on our conversation.

“OK,” I said, after I chanced. “It’s after six. I reckon that you gotta eat, so let’s go grab a bite.”

“Thank you. I’m not ready to leave. I still have work to do.” She wasn’t rude - she made a simple statement.

“I’ll wait,” I said, and sat down in a chair.

“Why?” she exploded, clearly not happy with me.

“Because you either intrigue me, or you just plain ass piss me off, and I need to know which.”

“Let’s just make it easy for both of us. I piss you off. Now, go. Please just go.”

Hold me closer tiny dancer

Count the headlights on the highway

Lay me down in sheets of linen