by Shari Copell
I stared at her. It had never occurred to me that what happened next was totally up to me. I couldn’t stop Asher from working at Tapestries, but I could decide how I reacted. I don’t know where it came from, but I suddenly had an epiphany. Sometimes you just get it.
If I were ever going to get over Asher Pratt, I would have to tear the scab off the wound and pour alcohol on it. I would have to be like one of those snake-handlers who injects himself with a little bit of venom every day to develop an immunity to the snakes he plays with.
I took a bite of my sandwich and nodded. I swear I heard the Wonder Woman theme song playing in my head. I’d made the decision to take my power back.
“Hey, Asher.” I slid my crossed arms across the bar and smiled at him in the mirror. He was replacing the pour spouts on the liquor bottles behind the bar with clean ones.
I would’ve totally missed it if I hadn’t known him. He picked his head up and looked at me in the mirror. His mouth was slightly open; his eyes were round with shock. He held that look for a nanosecond then it was gone.
He turned around slowly, eyebrows slightly arched in a question. I smiled inwardly.
Willow and Marybeth had been right about talking to him. It was the last thing he expected from me. I’d thrown him a curve, and it was interesting to watch him react to it.
“Hey, Chelsea.” He opened one of the drawers under the bar and deposited the extra pour spouts into it. He bent over while he did it, more than was strictly necessary. I think he was trying to hide his surprise. “How are you today?”
“Oh, I’m just fine. And you?” I smiled at him.
A breath left him in a tiny huff, barely perceptible. His eyes widened again, and I thought I saw him shiver a little. Yep, the frontal assault had been the way to go.
“Dandy.” He picked up a towel and began to wipe the dishwasher spots off the glasses we’d need for that night. It was Friday, and The Sinister Spiders were playing at Tapestries. They attracted an odd crowd: black and blacker were the only colors their fans wore. Both males and females wore enough makeup to rival Marilyn Manson.
“Asher, can I ask a favor of you?”
Amusement lit his eyes; a slight smile quivered across his lips. “Chelsea Whitaker asking me for a favor. Let me fix this moment in my mind forever.” He put his fingers to his temples and closed his eyes.
“If you don’t want to do it, just say so.” I flounced off the chair and started to walk away. “There’s no reason to get sarcastic about it.”
The frontal assault had hit a snag. I’d have to withdraw and regroup.
He ran to the end of the bar and stopped me with a grip on my arm. “I didn’t mean to say it sarcastically. I’d do anything for you, Chels.”
Anything but stay faithful. I shook my head. Now was not the time to think like that.
I peered up at him. He smiled at me, a smile so blinding I momentarily forgot where I was.
“Er...yeah. Uhm.”
“You wanted to ask a favor of me?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m getting my own apartment soon, but Mom and Dad are on a cruise right now. I have tomorrow off—I think you do too...” I took a deep breath. Once I said it, it couldn’t be unsaid. Did I really want to go there?
I blew out a breath. “Would you want to tag along with me and check out some apartments? I mean, I need someone to look at an apartment with a man’s eye for repairs and fixing things, and with Dad gone, I just—“
“I’d love to go,” he blurted. His hand tightened on my upper arm. “But I do have to work an early shift here. I’m off at one.”
Grinning inside again. Baited, hooked, reeling him in.
“I’ll pick you up here then.” I extricated my arm from his hand and made my way toward the back room.
“Chels...?” he called when I was nearly to the door.
I turned back to him. “Hm?”
“Can I...will you...do you want to go to dinner tomorrow night?”
I froze. He looked like a little boy asking for a puppy.
Let’s get one thing straight: if Asher Pratt has a weakness, he takes care not to let anyone see it. He’s excellent at throwing up walls to keep you out just as you were about to step in.
Yet there was an air of vulnerability about him now. The look on his face was hopeful.
You’re a fool, my rational self screamed. Run!
As I stood in the doorway of the back room of Tapestries staring up into the face of the man who’d stolen my heart and had not yet deigned to give it back, my less-rational self responded, Maybe it’ll be different this time, Chelsea.
The next day I was in the parking lot of Tapestries at 12:30 p.m. I was feeling a bit cranky for being so eager to see him, yet I was anxious to test myself. Could I be around Asher without feeling as though my insides were on fire?
Soon, he sprinted out the back door, his gaze searching the parking lot. When he saw me, that beautiful smile spread across his face as he hurried toward me.
I inhaled deeply, held it, and tried to get my bearings. At this point, I still had a choice. I could still close the door and avoid further pain. But avoiding the pain hadn’t worked; in fact, it had caused more. Hair of the dog, indeed.
I let the breath out in a whoosh just as he opened the door and hopped into my car.
“God, I couldn’t wait to see you. I didn’t think the hands on the clock were ever going to move.” He leaned toward me, just a bit. I thought for one second he was going to try to kiss me, and there was no way I was going to let that happen. I’d have to immunize myself to him by degrees. His lips on mine were a no-no today.
He drew back and stared at me, blinked, then smiled again. “So where are we going first?”
“I have four apartments to look at today,“ I said as I started the car. “I’d like to take one of them if possible. I really need to get out of Mom and Dad’s house. I’m ready to live on my own.”
“Sounds cool.” He nodded and buckled his seatbelt. “Thanks for asking me to go along.”
The first two apartments were beautiful but way out of my price range. The third one was up three flights of stairs, smelled like piss, and would’ve needed cleaning with a pressure washer and several gallons of bleach. The fourth one seemed to be perfect for me.
It was small, only one bedroom, but the bathroom was large with a tub for the long, nightly soaks I enjoyed. The kitchen was straight out of the 1970s (Harvest Gold!), but it came with all appliances. The living room was the size of a large cardboard box, but I could live with it. It was clean, and all utilities except TV were included in the rent. There was lots of parking in the alley behind the house. Best of all, it was within my price range and fairly close to Tapestries.
I gazed around in wonder. I was so excited. This was the one—I just knew it! I was finally going to be out on my own.
“So, what do you think?” I asked Asher, who was jiggling the hardware on the toilet.
“It’s nice, Chels. I see some things that need fixed and tightened up, and I hate the colors in the living room, but I’ll help you paint if you want.”
I clapped my hands together in front me as a shiver of delight settled down my spine. “Oh God, this is the one. I’m going to do it. I’m going to sign a lease for this one.”
“I think it’s perfect for you,” he said. “I’ll help you move if you want.”
Swept away by the emotion of the moment, I threw my arms around Asher’s neck and gave him a big squeeze. Almost immediately, I realized I was in trouble. I tried to step back, but one arm went around me, locking me solidly against his body as he stared into my eyes.
I blew out a breath mingled with a tiny, pathetic squeak as I was absorbed into those damned orbs of his. Asher’s lean body pressed the entire length of mine was causing fireworks to shoot off inside my skull.
Still, I might’ve been okay if he hadn’t dropped one hand to cup my ass, pulling it against the raging hard-on he had. My mind automatically pictured him naked, th
ought of what he’d done to me with that cock. And those hands and that mouth...
“Asher, no!” I pushed back against him, but he held me captive.
He frowned down at me. “Whaddya mean, no? You and I make beautiful music together. I haven’t forgotten. Let me play you, Chels. You always made the sexiest little noises when I stroked your clit.” He ran his nose up and down the length of my throat.
Jesus Fucking Christ on toast, no!
I worked my hands up between the two of us and shoved him with all the force I could muster. We both stumbled back from each other, both breathing heavily.
“What the...?” He blinked.
“I haven’t forgotten either, goddamn you. Goddamn your cheating soul to hell! I haven’t forgotten opening the back seat of your car during that job you guys played at Ice Castles. You asked me to take your guitar out for you and then you disappeared. Remember?” Fury rose in my gut, and I fought to control it.
“Chelsea, don’t...”
I was too far gone to stop. “I opened the door and found your cute little hairy white ass bouncing up and down on the bartender. I stood there for a minute, not quite believing what I was seeing. You turned around and said ‘Shut the door, baby, it’s freezing out there’.”
My chest heaved as I struggled to breathe. I was hot and cold by turns. Five years of pain tumbled across my lips. “You knew I’d find you fucking her, didn’t you? In fact, you made sure of it. And like the dumb bitch that I am, I did what you told me to do. I closed the door and walked back inside, your guitar case in my hand. We always do what you tell us to do, don’t we? We’re content to get by on the scraps you throw our way and count ourselves lucky that you even bothered to notice us. I’m done with that bullshit!’ Fists clenched, I whirled toward to the door. “I deserve better!”
“Why did you ask me to come along with you if you felt that way?” he demanded behind me.
“I don’t know!” I screamed in frustration. “Why did you take a fucking job at Tapestries, knowing I worked there?”
I spun around. I wanted to see the look on his face when he answered that one.
His shook his head, as though dazed. “I don’t know,” he said so softly I almost didn’t hear him. “I just...I just need to be around you.”
Well, that was an epiphany, but I nodded. I understood. God, what was it with the two of us? We couldn’t be together, but we couldn’t be apart.
I took a deep, shaky breath and tried to calm down. After a moment, I felt as though I could speak.
“It will have to be friendship or nothing, and you can’t possibly know what a concession that is on my part. You have Marybeth and Willow to thank that I’m even speaking to you.” So far, so good. I sounded reasonably calm, very determined. “I don’t know where this is headed, but my number-one rule is this: we are not having sex. Ever. If you can’t abide by that, then we’re through. I’m quitting Tapestries, and you can play your games with the next woman stupid enough to lay her heart bare for you.”
He looked stricken for a moment. I could see the pulse hammering in his neck. He opened and closed his mouth several times before he spoke, “Friendship it is then. I can’t ask for more than that after what I put you through.”
Holy shit! It was as close to an apology as I’d ever get from Asher Pratt. And I knew that was a major concession on his part.
Dinner at Red Robin was strained at first, but we worked through it. I’d needed to give voice to the anger and resentment I’d carried around with me, and with that out of the way, the night went smoothly.
We spent a lot of time catching up with each other. I asked about his mom, only to find out that she’d died three years earlier from breast cancer.
“I’m so sorry to hear that. I liked your mom.” Debbie Pratt had been a tall, thin, elegant woman, with kind eyes and blond hair. Though I’d only met her a few times, I think she really liked me. Curiously, Asher didn’t look much like her. He’d never spoken of a father though, and I’d never seen one the few times I’d been at his house.
“Thanks. I can think about her now without feeling like I want to throw up.” He swallowed and folded the corner of his napkin into a small triangle. I could see talking about her was hard for him. “She was in a lot of pain toward the end. I kept wishing it would be over for her then I’d feel bad for thinking that. When someone you love hurts like that, it makes it easier to let them go. Does that make me sound horrible?”
“No, it makes you sound realistic.” I thought of my own maternal grandmother’s death from colon cancer. “No one wants to see someone they love in pain.”
“I wanted to keep her home with me, but she wanted to die at Presby among the people she’d worked with all her life.”
“She worked at UPMC?” Asher had kept his private life very close to the vest when we’d dated before. I didn’t really know much about him at all.
“Ironically, she was an Oncology nurse, an RN. I don’t know if it made it easier or harder that she knew what she had to go through with her cancer, but she was the strongest person I knew. I really miss her.” He picked up the spoon by his plate and twirled it in his fingers as he stared off into space. “I’d give anything to be able to bounce things off of her sometimes. She was a voice of wisdom when I was clueless.”
“And your father?”
“No father. No father in my life ever,” he said hastily, dropping his gaze. He must have realized he’d inadvertently given me a glimpse into a source of pain. He smiled, and his expression relaxed. “I’m living in the same house as I was when we...before. In Oakland. Mom had a large life insurance policy, so I can follow my dream and keep playing with the Turtles. We’re hoping to get signed someday...,” he scowled and looked away, “...though that seems less and less likely the older I get.”
“Don’t give up. You’re very good.” I smiled at him, my chin in my hand, as I watched him across the table.
“Thanks. I think about giving up sometimes, but I always try to use that doubt for fuel. Other than that damned bartender’s certificate I have, I don’t know how to do anything else.”
“Well, I’ve heard rave reviews about your margaritas. And Willow says your Long Island iced teas should be preceded by the word ’nuclear’.“
He laughed then, and all trace of sadness left his face. “They are pretty potent.”
“You’ll have to make me one. When I’m not working, of course.” I looked at my watch. It was 10:00 p.m. “It’s getting late. I’ll have to get you home.”
His face went blank with surprise. “It’s early yet. What’s your hurry?”
In truth, I was exhausted, mostly from the emotional impact of being around him all day. I wanted to retreat to a safe place and have ice cream.
“Surely you didn’t think I’d make this an all-nighter. I have to work tomorrow.”
“So do I,” he said. “But it’s Saturday night. I thought maybe we’d catch some bands and...”
Suddenly, I felt as though I were in the driver’s seat. He wanted me to do something with him instead of the other way around. I remembered begging him the first time we’d dated to spend time with me on a Saturday night, but his best buds always came first. More often than not, I sat home alone and fumed.
“Nah, I’m tired. You can do whatever you want after I drop you off at Tapestries, but I’m going home to my bed and my cat. You ready?” I lifted my eyebrows and glanced at him before picking up my purse and sliding out of the booth.
The look on his face gave me an odd sense of satisfaction. Asher was the one feeling the sting of disappointment for a change.
CHAPTER SIX
After I signed the lease for the apartment, time seemed to come to a halt. I only had to wait two weeks, but it felt like twenty years.
Mom didn’t take it well.
“C’mon, Mom, I’m only twenty minutes away, for God’s sake. It’s not like I’m leaving the state or anything.” My bedroom was filled with packed boxes, and they sent Mom
into fits of weeping every time she looked in my room.
In fact, Mom cried the whole time I was packing. I understood, I really did. Their baby was leaving the nest. Mom seemed to feel as though a door was closing for her and Dad, but I saw a door being flung wide open for me. I was about to start a completely new chapter of my life, and I couldn’t wait.
“I know. But this house is going to be so quiet without you here.” She put her face in her hands, and the waterworks started again.
Finally, Dad showed up in the doorway of my room. He hated to see Mom cry, but he didn’t quite know what to do with her either.
I turned a pleading gaze to him. I still had half my room to pack, and I wanted to get it done.
“C’mon, Barb, I’ll take you to lunch. Chelsea needs to finish here,” Dad said quietly, averting his eyes from me. I knew he felt as bad as she did, but it wasn’t my dad’s style to show much emotion. He draped an arm around my mom’s shoulders.
Mom nodded, her face still in her hands, and allowed Dad to pivot her out of my room.
I blew out a breath and got to work.
Asher showed up on moving day with the rest of the Dirty Turtles—Mike, Joe, Rick, and Spencer. Moving went smoothly with all of those extra hands, and I was grateful for the help. It was late- October, and we were getting our first snow.
