Time stood still with the rain insistent and my fingertips numb. Each served as cues to get out of the water. With chattering teeth, I headed back to shore.
My legs threatened to give out when I trudged across the sand. The gelatin-wobble walk was a reminder I’d done a good job— letting go of caring about everything while pushing myself to the limit. That was the goal every time. Shock.
The beach remained wonderfully silent, one of few times I surrendered to relax in my skin. I wound the towel around my waist and slipped back into the comfort of my fleece-lined sweatshirt. Victory filled me like I’d defeated the past couple of days.
Beep.
My phone lit up with a text message, time-stamped ten minutes ago. “Now what?” I wiped away the speckles of rain from the display.
And then I clenched my eyes shut when I read the screen. Either she’d conveniently forgotten or she didn’t remember I already had her number.
Paige— “Ram-Paige”
Annelies gave me your digits after you bailed. Better be on your way to the dress shop. Your appointment is in twenty minutes. Whoops. Guess I should’ve mentioned that sooner. As much as it’d hurt Annelies, I’d love to see you, as the MOH, let the bride-to-be down again. Here’s a picture of what Annelies wants you to buy. Have fun!
There were attachments. The first was Paige’s hand, flipping me the bird. Jeweled nails were a dead giveaway. The second was a crumpled-up itinerary.
I unleashed every swear word I’d learned the night before at the water. The list. I’d left it behind when I thundered out of K-7, and now Paige waved her two-dimensional middle finger over her head in retaliation. Seeing the pictures beneath the text, I kicked myself for not going to Maui with Roxy. As if the first two images weren’t bad enough, a third loaded. It was the worst one of all.
The new and improved dress stared back at me. A scratchy grass skirt and a bulky coconut bra sounded comfortable in comparison.
I contemplated whether tossing my cell into the ocean to drown out Paige’s texts would help or if I’d long to submerge her body underwater instead. Either would cost me. Once again, I was late. Also, once again, Paige Paisley Parker was the one chomping at the bit to make me aware of my flaws.
I lumbered up the beach, my unsteady sea legs not cooperating. Numbness didn’t help matters, either. It felt like a dream, and not a good one. The proper comparison would be a nightmare where you urgently run but your body responds in slow motion.
There wasn’t time for a shower. I stopped in front of the mirror for a fraction of a second, still covered in a layer of saltwater that made my skin feel tight. My hair was a tangled mess, my face pasty. Sorry, world. I fumbled for a pair of underwear, yoga pants, camisole, and a pullover from the laundry pile on my bed and shrugged into them before darting out the door with my cell, keys, and wallet in tow.
* * *
“Freaking Anal Eyes.” I hastily approached the dress shop thirty minutes later with a scowl on my face.
A doorbell pinged one robust chime to announce my arrival. The entryway invited me in, the walls and furniture drenched in shades of rich maroon and plush emerald. It gave me the giddy, child-like feeling of year-round Christmas when I walked into the store. The spicy smell of cinnamon heightened the seasonal feel.
Sabina, the seamstress who owned the Cannon Cove franchise Seamless, swished her hourglass figure while hustling toward me with outstretched arms and wiggling fingers. She never followed through with a threat of a hug, though. Like they were two excited puppies who weren’t leash-trained, she had to calm her hands down. I liked Sabina and had a ton of respect for her. It was probably because she wasn’t one of my clients, and I didn’t know all of her darkest secrets.
She smiled. “Jade!”
“Hey.”
“It’s been a while. Missed you for tea last Saturday.”
“Office life has been super busy.”
Sabina Matthews lived alone at the end of the road, about half a mile from my house. She spent most of her free time in solitude. Once a week, I’d stop for tea in the evening— her open invite. She was famous in town for her award-winning shortbread cookies sold at the Saturday farmer’s market. I was lucky. Each time I came by with my tin, she refilled it. Free of charge.
“I wondered if you’d show up. You’re a tad late,” she said softly.
“Story of my life these days,” I added an apology.
“What was that, dear?”
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
“It surprised me to see Julie penciled an appointment in the book for you. Is there something wrong with the dress? Where is it?” She stole a glance to my left and right. “Does it need hemming? Maybe another inch or two?”
“More than that. Can we tailor it into nonexistence?” I pushed a lock of hair out of my face and remembered Sabina didn’t cause the issue. Snark wasn’t necessary. “I mean, the something wrong with the dress part is right.”
She covered her eyes in horror, her mouth contorting into a weighted frown as she sank into one of the plush chairs. “What happened? That was a gorgeous piece.”
I let out a long breath. “Annelies changed her mind.”
“Well, I’ll be!” Sabina’s eyes grew to the size of saucers as she waved her index finger in the air. “I had a feeling something like this would happen. She’s not getting married—”
“N… no. Not that. She changed the entire concept for the bridesmaid dresses and no one told me until last night.”
She appeared thoughtful. “Well, that’s a dilly of a pickle, isn’t it? Your other dress fit like a glove.”
Sure. A fluffy, oversized, marshmallow-tastic piñata of a glove.
“Thanks for the reminder,” I muttered.
“And now it makes sense why Paige returned her dress. I didn’t ask the reason. Just assumed she and the bride had another one of their petty squabbles. If Annelies booted her out of the wedding, it would’ve been a real kick in the pants.” Sabina shooed the idea away with a chuckle. “Anyway, doesn’t matter. What does Annelies want now?”
I tried to explain with dramatic hand gestures and marginal optimism, but my broken sentences didn’t convey what I needed. Reluctantly, I showed her a picture of the dress Paige texted to me. “This.”
Sabina’s eyes flicked up toward me. “Are you pulling my leg? For the Cannon Cove wedding of the year?”
“No leg pulling.”
Sabina covered her mouth. “What’s her angle?”
“The dress change? Probably to make my life Hell.” I continued to tell her about the ceremony coinciding with the eclipse, Annelies’s vision.
Sabina nodded and remained quiet.
“I’ll look like a pale, yellow Christmas tree, but my face will be the topper.”
“You’re not kidding about any of this, are you?” The remaining happiness slid from Sabina’s face. “She really wants her bridal party to wear twinkling LED lights embedded in the dress? The cost to have…” Sabina’s eyes widened in surprise for a second time, and I wondered if they’d stay that way permanently.
“Price doesn’t seem to be a factor for her.”
“But aren’t you paying…” her voice trailed off. “Oh.”
I groaned.
“I see.” Sabina turned away and rifled through racks, dresses flying like a magician throwing scarves. At one point, she disappeared behind a wall of garment bags. I wondered. Maybe she found the portal to another dimension so she could escape. I wouldn’t have blamed her.
“What about Paige?” she asked while out of sight. “Doesn’t she need a dress, too?”
“She covered her own ass, pun intended.”
A few minutes later, Sabina surfaced empty-handed. “Not surprised. Zero dresses with built-in lighting; they’re usually custom or
ders and a rare request. We can order something on a rush, but I don’t think it’d get here in time, and the cost to expedite…”
Yeah. You’ve mentioned “the cost” twice now. Heck! A flicker of hope ignited. Maybe I’ll get out of the wedding. This could be the catalyst in making my dreams come true. No dress? Can’t walk down the aisle.
Unfortunately, that flicker snuffed.
“Hang on a sec. I have an idea.” Sabina snapped her fingers.
I watched her rush into the back storeroom, reappearing five minutes later with an oversized garment bag. “This piece isn’t for you, but it’s our only option to see how the style fits your frame. Then, we can gauge size. Before I unzip it, brace yourself.” She hesitated. “Don’t judge the color. I made a quick call, and our sister store in Ocean Shores might have what you need with the lighting already installed. Her inventory is huge.” She clapped her hands together and then covered her mouth. “By golly, it could be a wedding miracle!”
Something like that.
I slumped my shoulders, knowing which store she referenced. Bianca Taft owned it— Annelies’s mother. Wearing a gown of razor blades laced with cyanide sounded better than visiting Bianca’s uppity shop.
“Come on.” She motioned for me to follow her.
Hanging my head like I approached a guillotine, I did as she asked, dragging my heels every step of the way to the fitting room.
“Do I smell ocean?” Sabina sniffed the air, closing the door behind us.
I wished I could sink into the floor. Or into a shower.
She tugged the zipper, and the first peek of color poked through the opening. I recoiled. Running away crossed my mind, but the next formal gown shop, other than Bianca’s, was so far. The dress Sabina chose oozed radiance. Maybe the term “radioactive” fit better. Nuclear-colored tulle exploded from the bag, expanding to a massive size as she struggled to pull it free. The glowing material made me squint. It wasn’t just any shade either. Calling it blazing neon was an understatement.
I took off my pants while facing her, digging deep for open-mindedness. Green looked horrific on me, ironic considering my name. “Let’s see how it goes.”
“Atta girl.” Sabina fought to gather enough of the dress for me to step into, and I waited until the last possible second to take off my shirt. “Just remember, this isn’t the color…”
You keep reminding yourself of that, Sabina. It’s not softening the glow… err... blow.
“Let’s go look with the three-way mirror out front.” She helped me while I struggled to zip the side. “The pedestal will give an advantage.”
Advantage? Yes, please! Amplifying this experience from multiple angles sounds fabulous.
Sabina didn’t fool me; she wanted to escape the closed quarters too because the dress barely fit in the fitting room. Maybe it’d swallow us whole. Then, Roxy could get a two-for-one deal and put both our faces on that milk carton.
“Uh huh.” I stared at the green pile surrounding me.
Handfuls of the dress spilled from my grasp when I walked out into the store to stand on the podium. With a forced exhale, I tried to let go of my negativity.
My focus turned to the mirror while I did my best to give the dress a chance. Sometimes clothing looked better on a human instead of draped on the hanger. It wasn’t the case with what I called the “hot mess dress.” That sucker wouldn’t be pretty with a dozen lingerie models attached to it. Setting it on fire would be the only fix.
“What do you think?” the seamstress asked, biting her lip in anticipation of my approval.
I opened my mouth to tell her how ill I looked, but to my horror, the bell chimed at the entryway. My eyes slowly trailed toward the door. Once again, the basement… below the basement… below rock bottom found me.
Miles McCullough stared at me, head-on. His dark eyes studied mine, and a smile bursting with contempt twitched at the corners of his mouth.
I tilted my head up toward the ceiling. “Great.”
With his hands in his lightweight jacket pockets, he wandered over to where I stood. “That’s quite the um… not sure what to call that thing you’re wearing.”
“Go ahead. I’m already upright, so you can’t make cheap shots about me standing up for myself.” I crossed my arms. “But I suffer from migraines. Maybe you’d like to knock me down a peg to help boost your ego.”
He sucked in a pained breath through his teeth. “About that…”
“I’ll be with you after I finish up with this customer, sir,” Sabina interrupted, shooing Miles across the room.
“Jade, I’m being honest.” She transferred her voice into gentle song, “Focus on the overall fit; looks are deceiving. It’s what Annelies wants.”
I’m tired of hearing about what Annelies wants.
“A few weeks ago, you could’ve brought back the old dress for a credit, and I could’ve ordered a swap with Bianca.” Her eyes lit up. “I forgot she’s Annelies’s mom! If you explain what happened, maybe she’ll give you a discount.”
I’m not asking her for charity.
“You think about it. I’ll be right back.” I watched Sabina sashay over to Miles with her excited, wiggling puppy fingers. I flopped down onto a red chair in the corner and stared at the pile of fluffy tulle engulfing me. There were no other options. Annelies forced me between a rock and enough fabric to supply a mid-sized craft store.
After a few minutes of fiddling with layer number eight of the endless dress, Miles walked over again. He stopped a few feet shy of where I sat, eyeing me with his signature smirk.
“What?” I let my hands fall to my lap swiftly, the rash motion subdued by ruffles. From the backroom, I could hear the Sneaker Pimps’ 6 Underground playing on Sabina’s radio.
“The ‘90s called. They want their dress back.” Miles slowly circled the chair like a shark. “What color is that? Neon Leprechaun?”
I gritted my teeth and read the description on the tag, not feeling better about my defensive stance. “It’s called ‘Legit Lime,’ jackass.”
He masked explosive laughter with his hand. “Even better.”
“Are you done? I’m not buying this… it’s the style…” The glare I used could’ve shattered ice, but it didn’t work on him.
He held up his hands, palms facing my way. “Don’t defend your clothing choices to me, Doc. Although, I’m curious. Does this cost extra?” He reached up and tugged a piece of seaweed from my ponytail, limp, brownish-colored slime dangling from between his thumb and index finger. “Or maybe it’s a new spa treatment your office offers? You know, only for people who’re given the ‘I’m running late’ special.”
I snatched the kelp from his hand. “Why are you here?”
“Your memory is as impressive as your tardiness. Remember what you said at the gas station? You weren’t thrilled my mother didn’t swallow. That’s why I’m here.”
My pulse pounded in my ears. “That’s not what I…”
He fixated on the dress again. “I’d ask why you’re here, but I’m guessing you’re waiting for someone to use a pickup lime. Hate to break it to you, but in a dress like that? It’s gonna be a while.”
“You’re hilarious.” I struggled to stand up, failing twice as I stepped on the bell of the dress, falling forward. To add fuel to the fire, my boobs had popped out the top. Rage sparked through me while face down on the floor. “Damn it.” With stains of scarlet on my cheeks, I covered my chest, hiked up the lengthy skirt, and made my way into the dressing room with my head held high, slamming the door shut behind me hard enough to shake the mirror on the wall. I took my aggression out on the dress. After shoving it to the floor, I jumped on it like a petulant child.
When I emerged in my street clothes a few minutes later, Miles stood near the cash register. A crisp, black tux laid across the c
ountertop, along with a white shirt.
My pocket rang, and I fished out my cell in time to see Bo’s name blinking in blue letters. I pressed the button and raised it to my ear. “Hey.”
“You comin’?” he asked.
“I know. I know. I’m running late,” the last statement flew out of my mouth before I could stop it. I’d set myself up for crucifixion.
Miles shook his head.
“Not a word,” I hissed.
“Huh?” Bo asked. “Are you talking to me?”
“No, not you. I’ll be there as soon as I can. A promise is a promise.” I quickly ended the call before saying anything else I’d regret.
“You? Runnin’ late? Tsk. Tsk. Tsk,” Miles said. “Can’t believe that for a second. You’re always so prompt.”
“You know what? Bo had it right about you last night.” I toggled the ringer off.
Sabina glanced up from her paperwork, her processing of our conversation lagging back a few sentences. “What? It’s okay you were late, dear.”
“Late? Here, too?” Miles raised an eyebrow. “Unbelievable. There’s an invention called a watch. You should buy one.”
Fucking hell!
Sabina’s attention turned toward Miles. “There’s a slight problem, sir. I don’t have your accents in stock. Mr. Rodriguez picked up the last ones.”
“Of course, he did.” Miles sighed. “Now what?”
“That’s the thing. With the short notice, you’ll have to go to another Seamless shop. I’ll write the address out for you.” She scribbled on a sticky note. “You know, Jade has to drive out there to pick up her dress if she decides to buy it. The trip’s a trek. Maybe you two could ride together. Just make sure it happens by tomorrow.”
“I don’t have a choice,” I lowered my voice to a mumble, “and fat chance on you riding shotgun in my Jeep.”
Jade Page 9
