Thirty minutes after our advertised closing time, the last customer finally exited. Maggie had shut the music off at eight as a subtle hint - her classic "Hurry it the fuck up and get out!" maneuver. But typical of most clueless tourists in Manhattan, they took their sweet-ass time.

"Good Riddance," I mumbled when I latched the deadbolt behind their backs. After a nine hour shift, I needed a second wind. Flipping the sign on the door to Closed, I yawned and stretched my arms over my head.

Who was kidding? I would need a third wind to meet my friends out later on.

Behind me coins clattered rhythmically, two by two, as Maggie counted them back into the cash register. "I'll be done with these drawers and the deposit slip in a second. Start fixing the denim wall and then I'll work on the tables."

When I looked at the tangled and twisted jeans pouring forth from the shelves, it made it official. "I fucking hate Black Friday!" I announced. Then I tugged on the leg of a pair of bootcuts and the entire pile spilled onto the floor. I sat cross-legged next to them, tucking my wool skirt down into my lap, and commenced folding.

"Tell me about it." Maggie laughed like a braying mule, her voice abrasive. Then she took a pack of Parliaments from her pocket and held it out to me. "Want one?"

I shook my head. "No thanks. But please enjoy" She knew I didn't smoke. Maybe she thought today was enough to drive me to it. It was close but no cigar.

She lit her cigarette, and took two drags before dropping it into the dregs of her Styrofoam coffee cup from this morning. "I shouldn't smoke in here anyway. Jewel would kill me if she found out. Or fire me, which would be worse since I pay the rent, not Kenny." She licked her thumb and went back to counting bills.

I wrinkled my nose. Money is filthy. People shove it into their sweaty pockets. Sometimes they stuff it in their sock or their bra for safe-keeping. Maybe they pick their nose and touch it. Once when I was a kid I saw a show where they tested cash for all sorts of germs. The bills were positively infested with them. They were also contaminated with drugs. I shuddered as I watched Maggie lick her thumb again to make another stack.

But even I had to admit that seeing all that cash laid out on the counter was a beautiful sight. Plus the soft shuffling sound the bills made as she passed them rapidly between her fingers helped me relax a bit. The whoosh, whoosh, whoosh made me think of a video my high school health teacher had shown about human reproduction. The baby's heartbeat in utero had sounded just like that. I guess that's why despite what a dirty business money is, there's something instinctually seductive about it that makes most of us pursue it.

While Maggie rubber banded the last pile, I asked, "When does Kenny go back onto the road?" With her counting done I could finally make conversation to pass  the time. I put the freshly stacked tower of jeans in place and wrestled another pile into submission.

"Not for a while. First, they're going back into the studio in January. Then it's up to the label. I guess it depends on how much they like the new stuff. Kenny says we should have an idea by April if they're going back out." She zipped the canvas deposit bag closed and placed it in the safe with the cash drawers.

I smiled. "That's nice that you'll have him around for a bit."

Maggie slammed the safe's door shut and spun the knob. "I guess. But when he locks himself into the studio with the guys for days on end, he may as well be on the road. At least on the road they're making money. In the studio they're spending it." She frowned and looked at her watch. "Shit! It's 9:15 already?!"

We both appraised the heaps of unfolded shirts on the tables, the rounders full of sweaters and jackets askew on their hangers, and the items knocked completely off the hang bars that were crumpled on the floor. The store was a mess.

"Enough with this crap! That deposit I just filled out is fat enough to keep Jewel off our backs if we leave the place like this. Let's make the openers deal with it." Maggie grabbed our jackets and bags from under the counter.

"You don't have to twist my arm!" I took my things and then I yawned again, my jaw cracking.

Maggie twined her scarf around her neck as she took stock of me the way she would one of the mannequins, hands on her hip and head cocked to the side. "You look like you're ready to fall asleep on your feet. Kenny should be here any second. We'll give you a ride," she decided.

I put my bag at my feet and slipped on my jacket. "That's okay. I'm not headed home. I have to meet some friends out at The Piper's Pub."

She flicked off the lights. "Your house, Piper's... It's only a few blocks difference. I'd never forgive myself if you fell asleep on the train and got robbed or raped or something."

There was a strange glimmer in her eye, apparent even in the now dark boutique. Maggie was the only manager that I'd ever had that was fond of pranks at work and occasionally breaking the rules. I knew she was up to something other than just the guilty pleasure of leaving tons of work for other people. I wondered what game she was playing tonight. But honestly I was too tired to play along. I unlocked the door and stepped down onto the sidewalk. "The trains are much safer than they used to be. I'll be fine."

But when the frigid November wind blew icy little snowflakes into my face, the thought of walking four blocks to the subway with those little pinpricks stinging my skin, was not a pleasant one. I regretted wearing a skirt today. My knee high socks were thick, but there was still a solid four inches of exposed thigh that was rapidly turning bright pink.

Maggie watched me shiver and smiled. The evil bitch knew she had me. She pointed toward an old black Cadillac that was pulling up. "Here's Kenny now."

That was when I saw that Dom sat in the passenger seat. I looked at Maggie and narrowed my eyes. "I doubt you plan on sitting in the back with me." She just shrugged and laughed again.

Dom opened the door to get out. He held it for Maggie as she climbed in. I took the moment of his preoccupation to open the back door for myself. While I slid across the white leather bench-seat I felt him follow close behind me. I turned to see him shut the door. He looked at me but didn't smile. "I would have gotten the door for you," he said.

"It's freezing. I didn't want to wait," I explained while I rubbed my hands on my cold thighs. They weren't doing much since my hands were icy too.

Then Dom glanced down at my thighs and said, "So red. It looks like a sunburn. You get cold quick, huh?"

While I'm generally not a prude about showing off some skin, there was something about this guy that made me tug at my hemline. "Sometimes," I said.

Then he reached out his left hand towards me. "Let me help." He lifted his dark eyebrows as he put his palm on my thigh. His fingers felt like fire against my skin. I hissed at the burn. Maybe I should have pushed his hand off my leg. But I didn't.

Then he shifted it over to the other thigh and I held my breath. His eyes, dark and with long lashes, came up to mine and he slid closer against me. "Better?"

I nodded and he smirked. His hand climbed a little higher. But when I shook my head at him and nodded toward Maggie and Kenny in the front, he stopped the ascent. Instead he ran a finger under the edge of my sock. "Nice socks," he whispered.

Maggie turned back toward us. "We're dropping Charli at Piper's." Then she turned to look forward again.

Dom removed his hand from my leg. He lifted his arm over my head and stretched it along the back of the seat behind me. "Is that so?"

"I'm meeting friends there at ten. But I'm pretty tired so I might not stay out too long," I explained.

His arm came down onto my shoulder. "Is that so?" he repeated.

His left thigh pressed against my right. My skin, no longer pink, now looked impossibly white beside his black jeans. I lifted my leg and draped it across his knee. Dom stroked the exposed flesh with his right hand like he was gliding it across guitar strings. My heart played the baseline he strummed. The Caddy rocked back and forth as it stopped and started in the holiday traffic crossing the Brooklyn Bridge. The heat pumped out from the blowers. I rested my head against Dom's shoulder and closed my eyes. I promised myself that a few minutes of rest was all that I needed. I felt myself drifting towards the dark oblivion and at that point I couldn't have stopped it if I tried.