The Wedding Dress Yes (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

  London frowned but didn’t respond. Adam seemed to be a dedicated member of the Rhonda fan club, though the more time London spent around Rhonda, the more she suspected that heart of gold to be pure fiction.

  “You think the box is still in the dumpster?” Adam asked.

  “I certainly hope so,” London answered, still looking for some kind of stool to use to look inside. “She supposedly threw it out this morning.” After Kelli’s mom called about the switched dress!

  “Here, let me take a look,” Adam said helpfully. Adam was quite a bit taller than London, giving him just the height needed to peer over the metal edge.

  “Yuck!” Adam removed his glasses as if the sight below him was just too painful to observe with adequate vision. “I see several boxes, but I don’t know which one is yours. The whole thing looks pretty gross, like it hasn’t had a good cleaning in years.”

  “I’m sure it hasn’t,” London said. “But I need the box. It should have my name on it and be filled with scraps of paper, mementos, and pictures.”

  Adam’s face scrunched up in complete disgust. “Honestly, London, I think you’re better off just telling your client what happened. The box doesn’t sound that important, and I doubt anything retrieved from that dumpster would be worth salvaging.”

  “I can’t do that, Adam. It might not seem valuable to you, but it means the world to Traci.”

  “Maybe we can call and see if one of the sanitation workers can make a house call in full sanitation gear,” Adam suggested.

  London shook her head. “Give me a boost, Adam.”

  “What? London, you can’t go in there. You’ve been sick, and you’re barely walking around.”

  “I’m fine,” London assured. “All this stress is a magical cure. Now, are you going to give me a boost, or do I need to go ask TeraLyn?”

  With a deep frown, Adam finally acquiesced and positioned his hands so London could use them as a step stool to throw a leg over the edge of the dumpster. She hopped down inside, immediately feeling a sense of claustrophobia with all the “yuck” Adam complained of. The stench sent a wave of dizziness and nausea over her, reminding her that despite her bravado, she still wasn’t completely recovered.

  Thankfully, this wasn’t a dumpster for a restaurant, but that didn’t seem to prevent the aroma of garbage. Scraps of cardboard and long-abandoned labels coated in a dredge of brownish-black goo crowded the corners. London stepped through the thick, brown muck, discovering that it consisted of more of the same scraps as in the corners, but aged beyond recognition to join the homogenous slime that covered the floor in a full inch.

  Recent additions to the dumpster lay in twisted contortions on top of the remains of the past, and London quickly tramped to turn over several boxes and kick away numerous trash bags, looking for the one treasure in a sea of waste.

  “Come on, London, it isn’t worth it,” Adam urged, peeking over the edge. “You’re getting filthy. If you pass out in there, I don’t know that I can get you out.”

  Ignoring Adam, she moved one black trash bag and spotted a brown box beneath it. Reaching down, she hefted the bag out of the way, slipping and landing on her knees in the gooey debris.

  Adam groaned.

  She reached for the brown box, turning it over and gasping in despair. The box bore her name, but as she carefully lifted it up, she realized the lid had come open, scattering the contents in a trail that wound a large circumference around its current location.

  Tears squeezed out her eyes, and sobs caught in her throat as she frantically gathered up each wayward scrap and put it into the box. Her vision blurred, and she stumbled. Feeling the dizziness threatening, she knew she needed to get out of there before she joined the refuse on the dumpster floor.

  Lord, help me! She cried, fearful as the world swayed and her stomach offered to reach for the sky.

  She scrambled back to the rim of the dumpster with the box held firmly to her chest. “Take this first,” she instructed Adam, entrusting him with the box. Though he grumbled, he carefully took it from her and set it aside before reappearing and offering his hand.

  She felt so weak that she would have never been able to get herself out had Adam not bodily hauled her up and over the edge.

  Taking her arm, he started to lead her back into the shop, but London refused. “I want to go to my car and go home. I can’t go back in there right now.”

  Though he wasn’t happy, Adam pursed his lips and supported her weight as she stumbled around the building and tucked her carefully into her car.

  “Is there anything else you need from inside?” Adam asked.

  “No. I have the box, and that’s enough for now. Thank you for your help, Adam. I know you didn’t agree with me, yet you stayed to help anyway. That means a lot.”

  Adam nodded. “I was just concerned for you. You had no business dumpster-diving with as sick as you’ve been. Go home and get a shower. I think I’d better do the same.”

  London felt embarrassed, realizing that she’d probably doused Adam with more than enough stench while he’d walked her to her car.

  “I’m sorry, Adam,” she whispered.

  “I’ll live. But I might need to enlarge my supply of soap.” Adam managed a feeble wave, not even attempting to get close enough to kiss her.

  London made it home and showered but couldn’t rest until she’d sorted through and cleaned every last scrap she’d found in the dumpster. Thankfully, most of the precious mementos seemed unscathed with only a few slightly damaged. However, as much as she tried to console herself that it could have been much worse, she couldn’t shake off the unsettling feeling that she hadn’t recovered everything. She’d felt too ill to upend all of the boxes and bags in the dumpster, and now that she laid everything out in front of her, she felt the absence of items she couldn’t even clearly remember.

  Her phone rang, and she answered distractedly.

  “Hi, how was your day?” Mason’s warm voice greeted. Though he hadn’t yet returned after his quick weekend trip providing medical aid, he’d called multiple times a day checking in. London also suspected that he’d called her family. Both her mom and Brooke had shown up multiple times, bringing her food and insisting on cleaning her apartment. Mason had also let something slip about Geneva, leading her to believe that her sister’s house call hadn’t fallen under privacy laws. No doubt the good doctor had fully briefed Mason on her condition, even if the final prognosis included that she was well on the road to recovery.

  “It was awful,” London choked out honestly, unable to hide her distress. Before she could stop herself, she rattled off the full report of Rhonda finding out what she’d done and then London finding out what Rhonda had done. She described searching through the dumpster and ended with her anxiety that she hadn’t found all of the pieces that belonged in the box.

  “I’m so sorry, London. That is a rough day.”

  “I’m sorry to unload,” London said, realizing how whiny she must sound. “You have no control over it. How was your day?”

  “It was fine,” he replied quickly. “Listen, London, I’m supposed to do a live interview right now, so I’ve gotta go. I’ll be praying for you and for everything to work out. I’m planning a trip to see you next week after the premiere. When I get there, I’ll help with whatever you need to get your orders and everything else back on track.”

  Before she could mumble a thank you, the line went dead, and he was gone. Feeling only more miserable, London gave up on hoping that she’d feel peace about the box or that the missing items would magically appear and wandered aimlessly to the couch. She should just go to bed, but even that seemed to require more energy and motivation than she possessed.

  She flopped on the couch and realized she hadn’t eaten anything. Not feeling hungry but knowing she needed calories anyway, she reached out to the coffee table and grabbed the box of crackers she’d left there and the remote for the TV.

  Idly crunching on the salty morsels, she tu
rned on the TV. There on the screen in front of her sat Mason.

  I guess he really did need to go for an interview.

  Across from him, popular late-night show, Billie Anders, asked questions in her animated, comedic style.

  Mason looks really good! London thought longingly, but it was the longing for a forbidden piece of candy. He looked too good. His form was too fit, his smile too bright, his hair too perfect. He was far too tall, too muscular, and ridiculously handsome. He always had been. Like every other woman in America, she should be content to look, knowing that he’d never actually belong to her.

  He really should have shaved, London decided irritably. That scruff of whiskers along his jawline made his look over-the-top alluring. If he were completely clean-shaven, maybe his muscles, gorgeous eyes, and killer smile would be easier to ignore.

  “So, tell me about your costar,” Billie asked, her eyebrows pumping suggestively. “Rumors are that the chemistry between you two was symptomatic of something more.”

  Mason smiled and shrugged. “Jennifer is an incredible actress. It’s always easy to have chemistry with a pro like her. Sorry to disappoint, but Jenn and I are just really good friends. I’m sure Jenn’s boyfriend might object if I pretended otherwise.”

  “Oh, really?” Billie asked. “Why don’t I just show a few pics from your movie up here and let the audience decide? What do you think? Are these pics of a really good friendship? If so, I’d like a few of those!”

  Mason grinned and even managed to blush a little at the cheers and whistles.

  “Wait, wait, wait!” Billie said, putting her arms out to signal for silence. “This actually could be good news for all you ladies out there. If we heard right, he said that he and Jennifer were not an item, which means that Mason Bryce is still on the market!”

  More whistles and cheering had Mason ducking his head bashfully and grinning from ear to ear.

  “Don’t worry, ladies. I have your back,” Billie said as the noise died down. “I’ll get you a little clarification. Let me make sure I understand. Mason Bryce does not currently have a girlfriend? Are you accepting applications?”

  London sat up straight, her eyes glued to the screen. She fully expected him to lay it on thick, managing to flirt with every woman in America. After all, an eligible bachelor chanced making his popularity and demand even greater.

  With a good-natured laugh, Mason shook his head. “I didn’t say I didn’t have other interests, but those don’t include Jennifer. I consider myself as taken, but it’s yet to be seen if my particular lady wants to do the taking.”

  “Yeah, right!” Billie laughed. “As if any woman on the planet wouldn’t fall at your feet! The way I hear it, this next year will be a busy one for you. With adding your own superpowers to a certain famous franchise and portraying a real-life character that is already generating Oscar-buzz, I think you’ll have plenty of ladies throwing a few fists trying to ‘take’ you. Who knows, maybe Jennifer will volunteer a few fists as well!”

  The audience roared. While Billie eventually calmed them down enough to ask Mason a few questions about the premiere of his new movie, London didn’t really hear the words. Instead, she studied Mason’s every movement and every expression, and they left her feeling completely desolate.

  Billie was right. Mason was meant for greatness. Every little thing about him screamed charisma, and it wasn’t just his off-the-charts good looks. Mason was a good actor, and London always believed him capable of award-worthy performances. It sounded as if that was about to happen for him. Money, fame, and recognition seemed clearly in his future.

  But that future could not include her.

  Despite what Mason said, his destiny of greatness also included someone greater than her. She didn’t want that lifestyle. At heart, she was a small-town girl, and though she delved into glamour with her designs, she came home at nights. It was her day job, not her all-encompassing destiny.

  She didn’t want what Mason wanted. While he encapsulated the dream of 99 percent of the female population, London wanted less than Mason Bryce.

  She wanted a normal, small-time life. She wanted home. Despite the lies her rebellious feelings might tell, London’s head told her the truth. She wanted an Adam, not a Mason.

  With determination to focus her attention home where it belonged, London took the remote in hand and turned off the television.

  She stood from the couch and went to her bedroom, but instead of readying for bed, she went to her closet. Before she could second-guess her decision, she pulled “The Mason” dress off the rack and stuck it way back in a corner as far as she could. Then she took “The Adam” out and hung it front and center so that she could see it every time she entered the closet.

  She thought the simple act would bring her some peace and fill her with the joy of knowing she’d made the right decision.

  Then why didn’t she feel better?

  “London, it’s me!” TeraLyn’s urgent whisper echoed over the line. “Someone is here at the shop out back! I hear them!”

  Alarm shot through London. Nobody should be there this late at night. After yesterday’s drama, London had spent the entire day avoiding any contact with Rhonda. With working only when she knew Rhonda wouldn’t be around, London had stayed late, arriving home only an hour ago. She assumed TeraLyn locked up the store and left around the same time.

  “TeraLyn, call the police!” London immediately urged.

  “I can’t! What if I’m wrong? Or what if it’s just an animal? Whoever is out there isn’t trying to get in the shop, but I hear them banging around. What if it’s just a matter of time? London, I’m scared!”

  London didn’t bother demanding to know why TeraLyn was even still at the shop at ten-thirty at night. She also didn’t bother demanding to know where Rhonda was and why TeraLyn hadn’t called her mother. Chances were good that Rhonda was either asleep already or out somewhere and wouldn’t answer TeraLyn’s call even if she’d tried.

  London helplessly glanced at the clock, calculating that it should take her five minutes to get to the shop. Even if TeraLyn called the cops, London would probably beat them there.

  Quickly, she grabbed her keys. “TeraLyn, make sure all of the doors are locked. If they try to come in, call the police. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  By stretching the speed limit on a few side streets, London made it there in four. The parking lot stood empty of all but TeraLyn’s car. London ran to the front door and quickly unlocked it, finding her wide-eyed friend cowering inside.

  “They’re still here!” her voice shook with suppressed panic.

  “What are you even doing here, TeraLyn?” London asked. “I thought you left long ago!”

  “I was working on wedding preparations. I thought it was a good time to work since Mom went to Brighton Falls this evening.”

  London walked straight through the shop to the back door and paused, listening carefully. Sure enough, every few seconds, they could hear loud clunking and banging coming from somewhere on the other side of the door.

  “Whoever it is isn’t trying to be subtle,” London whispered.

  TeraLyn shook her head. “What are we going to do?”

  TeraLyn was right in that the sound wasn’t coming from the door itself. No one was actually trying to get in the building. Instead, they were throwing things somewhere in the back-alley area. It sounded too big to be an animal. Chances were good that all the noise could be easily attributed to a few teenagers goofing off.

  “I need a weapon,” London said, looking around the storage area for something she could wield, just in case. Not spotting anything better, London finally settled on the dismembered arm of a mannequin. It was long, hard, and should do the job if necessary. With apologies to the rest of the broken mannequin body lying on the floor, London picked up the arm and headed to the back door.

  TeraLyn scuttled along behind her and grabbed a castoff wedding dress.

  “What’s that for?” London
whispered.

  “If you hit him with the arm, I can throw this over his head.”

  London shrugged. Whatever makes her feel better.

  She pushed the heavy door open slowly, cringing with the few unavoidable, protesting screeches.

  She tiptoed out, and TeraLyn followed behind. A dim light hanging above the shop door lent a soft, orange glow over everything. London strained her eyes, watching for any movement. Listening carefully, she positioned the arm like a bat right over her shoulder and crept forward. Soon, London realized the banging noise came from inside the dumpster.

  She was still trying to decide how to get up enough to see over the side when something jumped down, landing with a thud three feet in front of her.

  Startled, she drew the mannequin arm back, ready to swing it directly at the large, black shadow, but TeraLyn reacted faster. With a shriek, she tossed the wedding dress, hitting her mark with great accuracy.

  The shadow yelped, grabbing at the white thing covering his face.

  His reaction only caused TeraLyn to shriek more as she tiptoed and jumped around as if the ground were boiling water.

  Not sure what to do, London stood with the arm still cocked and tense, her eyes straining to see her target.

  The shadow untangled the dress from his face and threw it to the ground, the thrashing movements causing the orange glow of light to land on his features for the briefest of seconds.

  “Mason!” London gasped.

  TeraLyn froze. “Mason?” she squeaked. “You mean Mason Bryce was in our dumpster?”

  “Yeah, it’s me,” Mason’s scratchy voice admitted. “I just didn’t anticipate being attacked for doing so.”

  “Oh, no!” TeraLyn squealed in angst. “Are you alright? I’m so sorry! Let me run inside and get a lamp or flashlight. Don’t move until we check you over for injury.”

  TeraLyn hurried back through the door, and Mason bent to pick up the cast-off white fluff with two fingers and hold it up for inspection. “A wedding dress? You attacked me with a wedding dress?”

  “It was TeraLyn’s idea,” London said, trying to subtly shift the mannequin arm behind her back so Mason wouldn’t see it. “She was scared. Tell me, exactly why are you in the shop’s dumpster?”