“Well?” she interrupted my train of thought.
“Well what?” I asked.
“Strip down. Let’s see how it looks on you.”
“Now?” I blurted. “Here?”
“I’m sorry.” She raised a tattooed eyebrow. “This is the swankiest dress shop in all of Ocean Shores, and we should’ve closed five minutes ago. But here I am, accommodating a customer. Is there a better time for you, princess?”
Her scathing comments were difficult to ignore, but I’d reached my quota of arguing when it came to Miles McCullough. There was zero energy left to expend on the soon-to-be step-witch. Waving my white flag would get me out of the dress shop the fastest. “No, but…”
Her wide façade of a smile maintained intact, and I knew she’d uphold it until I backed down.
Without arguing, I gave in and undressed to my one-piece swimsuit under the full scrutiny of Bianca Taft.
She circled around me like a vulture seeking out a piece of decaying meat in a nature magazine. “Hmm. Maybe a corset or other shapewear will help. They’re remarkable at holding in…” she palmed my hips, “the many undesirable areas. And you may want to reconsider your choice in swimwear. Your metabolism likely isn’t what it used to be.”
My blood boiled, but I withheld my glare; it wouldn’t do any good.
She eyed me from head to toe, mouth puckered before and after helping me into the dress. “I didn’t think you could pull it off… or on. At least not without a bottle of olive oil and a roll of duct tape.”
I wanted to punch that dusty, old bitch in the face.
She zipped it up with ease. “These must run large or this one’s mis-tagged. I’d have guessed you were four sizes bigger.”
Hang… on… self-control…
Distraction by way of the mirror grabbed me, her foul statements rolling off my back. Reflections didn’t lie; I resembled popcorn topping.
Bianca jabbed at a button on a tiny remote cushioned in her palm. Minuscule lights twinkled and faded from bright to subdued on the oversized bell of the gown. The hue made my skin appear sicklier than Legit Lime, which I didn’t know was possible. Next, the paper tag spun on its plastic counterpart when I lifted my arm. The wording read “Bashful Butter.” Ugh.
“What do you think?” she asked. “I’m surprised. No alterations needed.”
“Meant to be, just like Sabina said.” There. Not a lie.
“Marvelous. Figgy will meet you up front,” she said. “Now, chop chop.” She started to leave with the dress in tow when she popped her head back through the doorway. “And I’m sure you forgot to thank me, but you’re welcome for the generous discount.”
I pursed my lips, perfectly willing to be an ungrateful brat.
A few minutes later and after five deep breaths to calm down, I stood in the comfort of my street clothes. Approaching the counter equated to my new death sentence. ‘Til dress do you part, Jade.
Figgy typed numbers into a computer system while I listened to the clock tick. And tock. Eventually, she slid an invoice across the glass counter in front of me, her purple jeweled nails sparkling in contrast against the white paper. She must know Paige.
I did my best not to curse from sticker shock. By then, I’d invested more money in Annelies’s wedding than I had on my massage table and chair.
“Cash, credit, or check?” she asked.
Cash. My pocket. Miles.
“Almost forgot.” My eyes flicked toward the Jeep through the window. “I need to pick up a tux, too.”
Figgy scanned my frame. “For you?”
“N… not for me. It’s for someone else in Annelies’s wedding. His name is Miles. Last minute order.”
Figgy rifled through a deep stack of invoices in an accordion folder on the back counter. “I don’t see anything for a ‘Miles.’”
“That’s weird. Maybe it’s under Seth.” I didn’t like the way his preferred name sounded on my tongue.
“Yes! Seth McCullough. I remember talking to him on the phone yesterday. He said he’d pay in full with cash, and I already took down his card information, just in case.”
Bianca emerged from behind an office door a few seconds later with her purse tucked under her arm. “Do you have close under control, Figgy?”
“Go enjoy the fireworks with Cranston. I’m fine,” she reassured her.
Bianca’s eyes flicked over to me, narrowing as she headed toward the front door.
I forced the same wide grin on my face that she’d used on me earlier, refusing to drop it. “Don’t forget to tell my dad hi.”
* * *
I paid, my credit card griping while I signed its life away. Figgy and I exchanged goodbyes and she locked the door behind me, flipping the neon sign to “CLOSED.” Anyone watching me lug both a tux and the monstrous dress across the parking lot could’ve turned their film footage into a viral video. Gravity played to win.
With a grunt and the garment bags obstructing my vision, I fought to shove them both over the side and into the back of the Jeep. Their bulkiness crept upward. As an outlet for my irritation, I smashed the dress down with the heel of my hands.
“You won’t believe the attitude Bianca had in there,” I said with the latest paperwork pinned between my teeth. “And you owe me.”
No response.
“Great. I’m getting the silent treatment,” I muttered as I opened the door and dropped my keys, barely recovering them before they hit the ground. “Are you even listening?”
Again, nothing.
“Miles?” I looked to the right and saw the unexpected on the passenger seat. The cocktail napkin I’d mashed in the glove compartment after K-7 sat on the edge near the seatbelt. I leaned over and picked it up. Centerstage, a single word was sloppily written in bold, capital letters.
SORRY
For thirty minutes, I waited.
Maybe he had to use the restroom.
Maybe poor cell reception meant he walked a block or two for a better signal.
Maybe aliens or a hostile beachcombing gang abducted him. Undoubtedly, they’d return Miles as soon as he opened his mouth.
I crumpled each theory, the simple message on the napkin wiping them all away.
What was the right thing to do? Ditch? Stick around? Was I supposed to find him? I didn’t have any answers. The vague and pitiful attempt at a cheap apology seemed unclear and thoughtless. But the questions didn’t stop there. Why apologize? For the dime? For disappearing? For the way he spoke to me?
I groaned.
With the sun dipping below the horizon and steadily setting, I couldn’t stick around the empty strip mall. Miles still hadn’t returned. I should’ve been happy my me time got reinstated. Instead, Miles tainted it. My state of peaceful relaxation evolved into stewing, and it lasted the entire drive back.
* * *
The Coastline County fairgrounds were on the outskirts of Cannon Cove. In July, it resembled a ghost town, but that night it had more life than any summer on record. Bright lights blinked in a flickering rainbow of colors from half a mile away, and they became more vibrant when I pulled into the parking lot.
“Holy crap,” I mouthed while staring through the windshield. A “small carnival,” as Annelies downplayed it, was an understatement. Cranston and the Whitakers went all out. The scene before me competed with the yearly state fair.
I grabbed the crumpled itinerary in my tote bag and scoured it. The dumb thing showed what time I needed to arrive but not where to meet up with everyone. Although I could’ve used the loophole as an excuse to go home, I decided to keep my promise to Annelies I’d show.
The entire town must’ve been invited. “I just want this over with,” I muttered, making my way toward the entrance. A few groups of people giggled at a clown juggling bowling
pins on a unicycle as I walked past. Others pointed at rides and a few in-between toasted with foamy beer in plastic cups. I did my best not to absorb anyone’s heightened energy, otherwise I’d spend days trying to shake it off.
The lights on the rides pulsated and illuminated the starless sky to a murky neon color. I watched as their metal arms whirled left, right, up, and down, dizzying me while my feet remained on the ground.
My stomach rumbled, a reminder I still hadn’t eaten since the stale cheese puff at Iris’s. The smells of onion burgers, cheese pizza, and cotton candy drifted through the air. I stood in the shortest line around, waiting for a caramel apple, my fairground favorite, when my pocket mooed.
I answered the phone and exchanged a five-dollar bill for my dinner. “Shouldn’t you be enjoying the sand and tropics in Maui instead of calling me?”
“Maybe. But I have a better question. Shouldn’t you be enjoying it, too?”
“Probably.” I twirled the apple around by the stick until the dusting of crushed walnuts blurred into indistinct brown flecks.
“What are you doing? I hear screams. Masochistic massage convention?”
“You wish. It’s carnival night. Itinerary commands it.” I sank my teeth into the warm caramel, a string of goo trailing between my lips and the Honeycrisp. “Fulfilling wedding party duties. All this time I assumed ‘ball-and-chain’ only referred to the bride and groom.”
“I forgot about that thing. And what sugary hell are you eating now?” she asked. “I doubt they have a Brady’s cheesecake stand.”
I frowned at the apple. “Nothing.”
“Lies.”
I exhaled hard. “A caramel apple. Do you have a video camera on surveillance, stalker?”
“Stalker? I’m offended. You know I prefer the term ‘secret admirer.’ Besides, I know how you roll. So, how is it?”
“The apple? Pretty good. It’d be better if—”
“Not the apple. The carnival.”
My gaze stuttered on an enormous Ferris wheel that made my heart flip-flop and my feet sweat. Heights did that to me. But my pulse sped up for another reason. At the bottom, Miles held Sienna’s hand and helped her out of a polka-dotted gondola. Once they both stood on the grass, he doubled over in laughter while Sienna’s complexion rivaled Legit Lime.
He doesn’t look sorry to me.
“Jade?” Roxy struggled for my attention.
“Hmm?”
“I asked about the carnival. Are you okay?”
“Fine.” I peeked around the corner of a photo booth and watched Miles. “Fairgrounds. Um. He… it’s a lot like a circus. Some drama. Only open short-term. Jaw-dropping moments. Plenty of jerkiness. Steep drops. A few stalls.” With another nibble, I got lost in my thoughts.
“Hello? Do we have a bad connection?”
“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry.” I cleared my throat. “Just trying to dodge someone… I mean something… a roller coaster.” I did a one-eighty and headed in the opposite direction, quickening my pace. Running into Miles sure wasn’t on my itinerary.
“I’ll call you later, Rox.” I pushed the red button and didn’t bother saying goodbye.
Without a destination, I darted through the maze of people while chomping giant bites out of the apple, forcing myself to take in both sights and calories. My mission shifted. I needed a plan to remain solo. Tell everyone you came, but you couldn’t find them. It’d be totally reasonable considering the growing crowd. Even the receipt from my apple was tangible proof I’d made an appearance. Swimming in the cove sounded so much better, so I let my feet lead me to the parking lot. Heck, I even had my swimsuit on already. With those few steps, the tension released from my shoulders, and I took that as a sign I made the right choice.
When I reached the perimeter of the grounds, the sounds subdued to a dull hum. For the first time that day, sincere happiness spanned my face. I fished for the key fob in my pocket, my fingers closing around metal. In less than a few minutes, I’d be headed home. Victory.
“Hey, Jade!”
Maybe not.
Internally, I crumbled. The shackle tightened around my ankle again.
“Hey, Annelies,” I said, letting the keys drop back into my pocket with a disappointing clink. “I looked all over for you.”
“Out in the parking lot? Shocker you didn’t find us.” Paige narrowed her eyes. “P.S. You’re late.”
Annelies elbowed her hard.
Eli put me in a headlock and gave my hair a tousle. “What’s goin’ on, kid?” The smell of stale beer and cheap cologne on his shirt burned my eyes. “Fireworks won’t start for a couple of hours. We’re gonna hit up some games.”
In pulling away from him, I tweaked my neck at the wrong angle. The pained urge to throw up rushed through me.
“What’s up, Baby Girl?” Bo asked. “You look spent.”
“Thanks,” I said, rubbing my searing shoulder. “A girl can’t hear that enough.”
He cocked his head to the side and rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” I closed in on the distance between us. “Got my dress from Bianca.”
He brought his voice to a whisper, “Ouch. How was the old Battleaxe? I’ll bet—”
“C’mon, Bo. You two can swap secrets later.” Eli pointed to a row of booths on the perimeter of the fairgrounds. “Let’s see if you’ve got game.”
“You’re on!” Bo shouted over his shoulder before turning back to me. “Tell me more after I destroy Eli at hoops. K?”
My shoulders fell. “Sure.”
When I turned around, I saw Miles and Sienna walking past the carousel.
Great.
“Guys! Over here!” Paige waved at them with both of her arms overhead.
Eli slurred, “Shut it, Paige. I’m gonna need to drink a fifth to erase that ass wad out of my night.”
“I’ll cheers to that.” Bo raised his flask.
Double great.
“Be nice, you two,” Annelies whined. “Every detail about this wedding stresses me out.”
When Miles saw me, his body language changed. From relaxed to rigid. From smiling to stoic. From keeping his head up to averting his eyes to the ground. He wore the same faded jeans and white t-shirt as earlier in the day, but he’d swapped out his blue flannel for a red-checkered one. The bottoms of the unbuttoned panels blew in the breeze as he walked with his hands in his pockets.
It took extreme control to remain calm.
Sienna talked to Miles, but he refused to look her way. Occasionally, he’d offer a nod or confirmation of something she’d said. The duo made their way toward us, her arm securely linked through his.
I didn’t speak and refused to let go when his gaze finally united with mine. As predicted, he pulled the eye contact ripcord first.
Unenthusiastically, I followed behind everyone until our two groups merged in front of a game called Dunk Those Balls. I’d forgotten how much I hated it when Eli and Bo drank together, and that night they aimed for a new record. In a cloud of testosterone-filled competition, Eli and Bo fed off each other, talking a lot of smack before they each slammed a five-dollar bill on the wooden counter. The amusement park worker’s nametag read “Al,” and he rattled off a list of rules, but I didn’t retain anything he said.
Sienna walked over to Annelies and Paige, in deep discussion about wedding reception pictures when an opportunity presented. Miles was alone enough. I multi-tasked, reaching into the zippered pocket on my tote while stomping over to him.
“Hey,” he said coolly with his arms folded, not taking his eyes off the basketball game.
I thrust two crumpled twenties toward him. The solid connection as my palm struck his chest caught him off guard with a grunt before I pulled away. “Here.”
H
e watched the cash flutter to the ground.
“Your tux is in the back of my Jeep.” I fished a single coin out of the small pocket with my index finger. With a flick of my thumb, I flipped the dime into the air and watched it fall head over tails until it landed next to the twenties on the dirt. “Ironically, it’s the rest of what you got back from Seamless.”
“I told you to keep the change,” he murmured firmly.
“You also told me to pick up your tux, but I’m not your chore whore.”
His glare triggered.
“What happened?” My eyes clawed at him like talons. “I waited around for thirty minutes.”
He shrugged his shoulders and crouched to pick up the bills. “I left.”
“Why?”
“I don’t owe you an explanation.” Anger crossed his face, the chain straining on his mood swing. “If you recall, someone vandalized my truck.”
“And if you recall, I helped you out with some of that.”
His voice lacked sincerity, “I already said thanks.”
“So, what? Did you powerwalk the hour-plus drive back to Cannon Cove?”
“Take your crowbar and pry into someone else’s life, would you?”
“Whatever.” I turned to walk away.
He grabbed my wrist and stopped me. “What more do you want? I left a note.”
“A bar napkin doesn’t count.”
“Does in my book.”
“What exactly did you apologize for, anyway?” I wrenched away from his grip. “Because the laundry list is getting long.”
“For the love of…” He rubbed his face. “Maybe I need to say it another way. If I get a straw from the slushee stand, will you suck the fun out of someone else’s life?”
“Leave me alone, asshole.”
“That’s right.” He let out a forced breath. “I’m the asshole.”
“What does that mean?”
Jade Page 17