“You look nice in red, Charley. You should wear it more often instead of that baggy black and gray you always wear. People always ask if you’re in mourning. With your long blond hair, red is definitely your color.”
“It’s Christmas,” she responded, blushing.
“Well, Merry Christmas, Charley! Come on. Let’s go get a drink. It’s a cash bar, those cheap bastards. You’d think they’d spring for Christmas. What the hell, it’s my treat. Let’s tie one on for Ol’ St. Nick.”
Judy bought Charlotte a white wine, then, her job as hostess done, disappeared into the crowd. Alone again, Charlotte clutched the stem of her wineglass like a lifeline and tracked her path to a table. Her heart sank. She had to walk past the bar.
Charlotte had learned early in life that an ugly face drew as many comments from a group of guys as a pretty one. Maybe more. Hunching her shoulders forward, she let her hair slide over her face in a practiced move of camouflage. She imagined that she was on stage, marked her point across the floor, then, eyes on the point, she proceeded in a straight line across the floor to the backbeat of “Babes in Toyland.”
As she passed the bar, the rowdy men quieted. She held her breath and invoked St. Anthony the Great to protect her from swine. Hurrying her pace, her hands clenching and unclenching the stem of her glass, she found her seat and slunk quickly down into the upholstery. Just when she was muttering thanks to St. Anthony, she saw a man swerving toward her. She sucked in her breath and averted her face.
“Excuse me,” he said at her side. “Have we met?”
It was her boss, Lou Kopp. A chill ran down her spine and she sunk farther into her seat, bringing her hand to her face. From the bar she heard the jeers: “Way to go, Lou.”
She felt like a trapped animal, but years of ridicule had taught her never to show fear. Taking a deep breath, she turned her head slowly to face him, and, as she looked up, her hair fell back from her face. Lou Kopp’s face registered woozy confusion, then shock as his smile slipped.
“What the hell—”
Charlotte winced but willed her voice to remain even.
“My name is Charlotte Godowski. You might remember who I am. I’m an accountant in your company.”
Now the voices from the bar turned to hoots of laughter. “Wow! Tonight’s your lucky night.” “Hey, this is Christmas, not Halloween!”
After each outburst they broke into a renewed round of drunken laughter that riddled like bullets.
Charlotte’s defense was to pretend not to hear them, or the sympathetic
tsks
from the women within hearing distance. Yet inside she felt like a slip of paper that had burned, curled and turned to ash. If only she could blow away.
For Charlotte knew, as she saw Lou Kopp swagger back to the bar to be welcomed with sympathetic slaps on the back, that tonight would be no different from all the other parties she had ever attended. No different from the lunchrooms at school. Now the naughty boys had a target upon which to vent their frustration against all the beautiful girls who’d scorned them.
Charlotte stood straight and filed past the boozy comrades at the bar. They drunkenly nudged and snickered as she crossed their line of vision. Judy Riker hurried to meet her at the door.
“Charlotte, I don’t know what to say. Maybe if—”
“Please,” she responded, holding up her hand. “Merry Christmas, Judy. Good night.”
It just wasn’t in her to muster a smile. Turning on her heel, she quickly collected her coat, covered the now despised red wool dress, then pressed the elevator button. The bell rang promptly and she moved quickly into the box, punching the lobby button, then closing her eyes in relief at being alone. Just as the doors swept shut, however, a man hurried in. The door bounced from his shoulders then quickly slid shut behind him.
Looking up, she saw Lou Kopp.
“Going to the garage?” Lou asked, pushing the G button.
Charlotte didn’t respond. Silently, she began praying.
Hail Mary, full of grace…
“Listen. About what happened earlier…”
Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb…
“I’m sorry.”
Her prayer halted. Did he say he was sorry?
“Hey, it was a terrible thing we did in there. Some of the guys were drunk. Not that that’s any excuse,” he hurried to amend. “And, as your boss, I take full responsibility. Please, Miss Goz…Well. Accept my apology.”
Charlotte hesitated, looking up to gauge the expression in his eyes. Lou Kopp wasn’t a good looking man by most standards.
Slick
was the word that best described him. His eyes were his saving grace. They were a sunny sky blue that brightened when he smiled, as he did now. You’re the last person who should judge a person by looks, she scolded herself. She accepted his apology with a brief nod.
“How can I make it up to you?”
“You’ve said you’re sorry,” she replied. “That’s enough.”
“No, it’s not. How about I buy you a drink? Wanna go for a drink?”
“No. Thank you.”
“How’re you getting home?”
“I’ll take a cab. It’s not far.” She was planning on taking the train.
“You’ll never get a cab. It’s the holidays—a Friday night. No way. Hey, I’ll tell you what. I’ll drive you home. What d’ya say? It’s the least I can do.”
“That’s not necessary,” she replied, almost stammering.
“Sure it is. I’ll drive you home. It’s no big deal. Besides,” he added, “I’m your boss. I should take care of my employees, right?”
She didn’t have time to respond. The elevator doors opened on the fourth floor and a tall man, conservatively dressed in a long navy wool coat, stepped inside. The elevator seemed to shrink in size and Charlotte, mesmerized, grew acutely aware of everything about him. She stole a quick glance.
He had the most beautiful skin, she thought. The rich color of terra cotta. His cheekbones were high and pronounced, and he had a strong Mayan nose that gave him a distinguished, even stern appearance. Although his thick black hair was fringed along his starched white collar, it was so neatly cut that it was clear the length was by choice, not neglect. Most arresting of all, he bore the indefinable manner of a gentleman, which always set a woman at ease, knowing she had nothing to fear. The scent of sandalwood cut through the stale air of the small compartment.
As they descended, he stood with his dark, long, unadorned fingers clasped before him. In contrast, Lou fingered coins in his pocket. When they reached the lobby and the doors slid open again, the tall man stepped forward and paused to hold the door for her in an age-old gesture of chivalry. Charlotte, flattered, moved forward. Suddenly she felt Lou Kopp’s hand on her arm. She paused awkwardly. The stranger’s dark eyes flashed to meet Charlotte’s, then flicked to Lou’s hand on her arm before quickly snapping back to her, his brows knitted in question.
“Did you want to get out?” he asked. His voice was low and polite, yet she heard in the undercurrent the clear indication that he would help her if she needed it.
“I said I’ll drive you home.” Lou’s voice sounded insistent, and she felt his grip tighten on her arm. He was her boss and Charlotte responded instantly to the authority in his voice.
“Thank you,” she said to the stranger. “I’m fine.”
The man’s gaze probed like an eagle’s, then without another word, he nodded politely and stepped aside, allowing the doors to hum shut between them.
“Lousy spic,” muttered Lou. “What did he think he was doing?”
Being a gentleman, Charlotte thought to herself as she dropped her gaze to her shoes. She felt suddenly and inexplicably lonely.
Lou Kopp and Charlotte rode down the one floor to the garage in silence. Neither did they speak as she followed him along the freezing ramp of the dimly lit, deserted garage. The cement walls were dingy and smeared with graffiti, and the frigid air was heavy with the acrid smell of gasoline. At last they reached a large gray Oldsmobile parked in the corner. He opened the doors and slid into the front seat. Charlotte followed suit.
Lou fired the engine but it coughed, chugged and stalled in the bitter cold. “Damn, but it’s cold. Can’t barely touch the metal.”
Charlotte didn’t respond but curled her chilled toes in her shoes.
Finally the engine turned over, sputtering unevenly and rocking the car like an old beast of burden roused from its hibernation. “Good ol’ American car,” Lou said with a gleam of triumph while rubbing his hands vigorously. Long streams of vapor flowed from his lips and the scent of stale brandy hung heavily in the air. Charlotte ducked her nose into her collar and tucked her icy fingers under her arms. Tonight was one of those arctic Chicago nights that froze the hair in one’s nostrils.
“Yep. Cold tonight,” he repeated, glancing her way with a spark in his eyes. “Wind chill brings it below zero.”
“Feels like it,” she responded shyly, shivering in the darkness. The lights from the garage were dim and made their skin appear sallow and gaunt. “Maybe we should wait inside till the engine warms up.”
“Nah.” Lou reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a small flask. The silver flashed in the yellow light. “Always be prepared,” he said, unscrewing the top with a wink. “This’ll warm us up, eh?”
Charlotte’s eyes widened and she shook her head no.
A shadow of a frown crossed his brow before he wrapped his lips around the flask and took a swallow. When he finished, he released a long sigh and glanced her way. “You don’t think I’m trying to get you drunk here, do you, honey?”
“Of course not, Mr. Kopp,” she replied quickly, embarrassed that he thought her such a prude. Of course he wouldn’t be trying to make her drunk. What man would?
“Just trying to warm you up a little. Spreadin’ some Christmas cheer.” He lifted the flask to his mouth and drank heavily. “How about some music?” He reached over and flicked on the radio. “A Holly Jolly Christmas” played again.
“Isn’t the engine ready yet?” she asked, her voice high with tension.
“Nope. Engine’s not idling. It’s colder than a witch’s teat out there.” His eyes shifted to her chest. “Speakin’ of which, that was a very pretty dress you wore tonight. You’re a regular wolf in sheep’s clothing, if you know what I mean.”
Charlotte shrank into the upholstery.
“Never noticed you before,” he continued. “You’re a real nice girl, you know that? Real nice. What’s your name again?”
“Charlotte. Charlotte Godowski.”
“Charlotte…” He said the name slow, rolling it with his tongue. “Charl…” He stopped and smiled a surprised grin. “Charley?”
She looked out the window, catching her horselike reflection in the glass.
“Well, how come they all call you Charley when you’ve got such a pretty name? Charlotte is so, I dunno, elegant. You know?”
“The name doesn’t exactly match the face,” she replied.
“Hey, what kinda thing is that to say?”
Charlotte was momentarily surprised by his defense and responded to his backward compliment like a dry sponge to a droplet of water. She loosened her grip on the door handle.
“So, how’d you get to be called Charley?”
“One boy thought of it and the name just stuck.”
Get Charley Horse!
In a flash she recalled the many times she’d lifted her desktop to find carrots or bits of sugar inside, followed by explosions of giggles and laughter.
“Well, Charley’s a decent enough name, I guess. Here,” he said, handing a capful of brandy her way. “Merry Christmas, Charley.”
He was smiling at her, being nice to her, and she wondered if perhaps she’d misjudged him after all. Perhaps he was just like her, teased and tormented by co-workers and merely seeking out a friend on a lonely holiday night. She knew he was no longer married, and this made him safer in her mind.
“Maybe I will,” she said, feeling adventurous. She took the small cap from his hands with a shy smile.
“You have a real nice smile, Charley.”
Her heart skipped at her first real compliment, and she could feel the heat of a furious blush across her face. Charlotte bent her head and brought the icy cap to her lips, desperately trying not to look like a horse with a feed bag. The liquid was smooth and burst like a flame in her belly, warming her all over.
“See? I was right. Told you it’d warm the blood.” He smiled, refilling the cap. “Get your juices flowing.”
Charlotte braved another smile and swallowed more, closing her eyes. She
did
rather like it. It tasted of fermented plums mixed with fire and something magical that tickled her nose and tingled her tum. When she opened her eyes, Lou was still smiling at her. She searched his crooked features with a forgiving eye, seeking signs of integrity and goodness, qualities she may have overlooked before. No, he wasn’t a handsome man, not even a good looking one. But she never expected the attention of a handsome man. If his heart was kind, wasn’t that enough?
“Aren’t you getting warm in here now? Why don’t you take off that heavy coat? We’re having a little party here.”
“No,” she blurted. “No, I’m still cold.”
“Let me warm you up.” Lou swooped down to press his mouth against hers.