Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Hours left until the wedding: 22
Miles left until Venice: 113
"I'm sorry", her mother said quietly, holding her hand in front of her mouth all of a sudden "But I feel nauseous."
"Mom? Oh no! Pull over, Kurt! Please hold on, mom, but don't puke into the dress." Instinctively, Mercedes pulled the dressbag closer to herself, not trying to think about the wrinkles she created in the process. They would be able to fix the wrinkle problem – but puke on the dress? No way.
Luckily, there was a parking not far away from the interstate where Kurt could park the car.
Sam startled and woke up when Kurt braked, but seemed to understand what was going on and helped Mercedes' mom out of the tiny vehicle. "Are you alright again? Take deep breaths, good, everything okay."
Phyllis was trembling, so Sam ran back to the car, took his sweater, and laid it around the older woman's shoulders.
"It's okay, you will feel better in no time."
Mercedes and Kurt stood next to the car, watching them. "He really is a great guy", Kurt murmured, nodding to Sam.
"Yes", she agreed absentmindedly, checking the dressbag for puke stains. Luckily, she found none.
"Do you have some medication you can take and that I can bring you?", Sam asked.
"No. Just let me rest for an instant, that will be enough."
"She never gets carsick", Mercedes shouted to him "That's why she doesn't have any meds for carsickness."
Sam looked over to her, pensive. "Okay.", he answered.
"Let's go, my friends." Phyllis got up again to walk back to the car. "I don't want to delay everything." Sam held her arm to support her.
"Are you feeling better now, mom?", Mercedes asked worriedly.
"Oh, yes. How embarrassing, I'm sorry."
"Don't be silly, mom", she answered her mother back, asking herself whether all the stress could be responsible for her nausea.
"Please, sit in the front", Sam told Phyllis who shook her head.
"No, it's okay. And you with your long legs…"
"I insist", Sam said sternly. "Please." He practically needed to fold himself up to be able to sit at the backseat.
"Thanks."
Mercedes got in on the other side and after they had put the dress onto their laps, she felt Sam's upper thigh next to hers. For some reason, she felt weird, so she scooted away from him as politely as possible.
"I will do everything to avoid the road holes", Kurt promised to her mom when they drove off.
The latter one closed her eyes and seemed to fall asleep soon behind her sunglasses. For a while, nobody said anything. Mercedes looked at Sam from the corners of her eyes. Without a doubt, he looked handsome. And he was nice and caring. He could have made anything of his life…
"Why movies?", she asked him.
Sam shrugged. "Why not?"
"Isn't it a little…conceited?"
He gasped, surprised. "Ouch. Did you work on that payback since I insulted the fashion industry?"
"No, of course not!" She grimaced. "Sorry if it sounded so mean."
"Oh, forget it. That question is legitimate. Let me think a bit. Well, media always were thrilling to me. Stories are better to tell three dimensionally."
"Compared to what? To written stories?"
He frowned. "I think so. But I meant compared to all other media. I want to tell people the truth, and that works best with movies. Do you understand?"
Mercedes nodded.
"I love everything about making movies. Always. I love cine films, TV, developing ideas and looking into things. I don't think that something is wrong with that."
"I also love movies." Mercedes sighed.
"After I realized exactly that, I did everything to get extensive education: Writing, researching, collecting information, filming, editing…"
"Great, sounds like a one-man business." Mercedes liked how passionate he sounded about it – he was literally beaming.
"Yes, you said it right."
"Really?" She didn't even notice she had said something smart.
"Yes, that's what this is about: I want to control how people interpret the movie; I want to be sure that the shown picture is exactly what I want to show the world."
She looked at him impishly. "I'm afraid you sound a little like a control freak, Sam."
When she glanced at the rearview, she noticed that Kurt was smiling at her.
"Yes maybe, but that's probably the only way to tell the truth like I want it."
"And what if you are wrong?"
For the first time, she noticed how he hesitated. The passionate sparkling in his eyes was replaced by something like... self-doubt. "That's a great question I don't hear that often."
Mercedes was surprised. "Really? You are not that scary!"
Even though she was joking, he was taking the question serious. "I hope so! But I need some knowledge for what I do. People always assume that what we create and show to the world is based on long researches of geniuses. But actually, just a guy, a camera, and a great idea-or just a small idea, as you have just said- are enough for creating works like these. I take that kind of responsibility more than serious, you know, not only for the people who will watch those movies but also for myself."
He really sounded like an artist. Mercedes wondered what kind of movies he produced, whether it were thrilling Blockbusters, Sci-fi movies ore Romances.
"What's more exciting in life?" She wanted him to know that she understood him.
Suddenly, he looked down sheepishly. "Me and my pretentious speeches. Sorry, I probably sounded kind of conceited."
"Not at all. I liked it. Someday, I would like to watch your movies."
Their glances met, and suddenly, the atmosphere in the car tensed up weirdly. It was so intense Mercedes looked down the dressbag and started playing with the zipper, and Sam seemed to find the scenery outside interesting all of a sudden.
Anthony had never talked like that about his job. Yes, he was also passionate about his work, but for him, it was always about the fame and the success, how he won prizes and how people would beg on their knees to get a selfie with him one day.
She turned back to Sam. "It was nice of you to give my mom your sweater."
"She was freezing", he said, shrugging. "I was just worried about her."
"At the end of the day, that thing is advantageous."
"To be honest, that sweater is important to me."
Mercedes needed to think about something. "Did Jasmine give it to you?"
Sam looked at her weirdly. "Yes. It was a present, she knitted it for me."
"A woman with a lot of talents" Mercedes sighed deeply and was sad for some reason. "You do love her, right?"
He nodded.
She stared out of the window. Well, it was crystal clear now: Sam was already taken.
For a while, nobody said anything, so she looked at the scenery outside. Unbelievable how green Italy was, other than New York. A couple of hours ago, they were covered in snow, but now, it was so warm she had to put off her jacket. Her lids became heavier and heavier. She would close her eyes for only a couple of seconds…a couple of seconds, yes, that sounded good.
…
She didn't want to wake up. It was so comfortable, she was curled up on a warm place, and if she woke up, she would land in her cold reality again, and that didn't sound so great. Only a couple of minutes more…
"Mercy?" It was the voice of her mother. "Wake up, we stopped."
Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. Silence. They were indeed not driving anymore. She needed a couple of seconds to realize that she was leaning against Sam, and she had put her arms around his torso.
"Oh!" Startled, she straightened up. "I'm so sorry!"
"No problem", he hummed, kind of amused. "Great that you rested a bit."
Quick, she brushed back a strand of her hair and prepared herself for looking into Coralee's face. The dress was still on her lap, so they were over the hump. But when she was looking out of the window, she noticed that they were not in front of her sister's luxury hotel.
"Where are we?", she asked. That's not where Coralee lived.
They were in front of a brick building, probably a townhall or something. Hopefully, she didn't snore when she slept. Anthony had never mentioned something like that, but today was not the right time to start snoring.
"Does the wedding take place here?", she muttered and rubbed her eyes.
Sam looked just as confused as she felt. "I don't think so. Kurt?"
When Kurt didn't answer immediately, Sam asked: "You don't look good, shall I drive this time?"
"There is…there is something I need to tell you", Kurt finally said without looking at them.
Mercedes got a bad feeling about it. "Which is?", she stuttered.
"When you talked to Coralee about the dress…" Kurt paused and looked down the gravel on the ground, having paled all of a sudden.
"Spit it out already!", Mercedes hissed impatiently. "Please", she added when Phyllis threw her a stern glance.
"Well…when we were at the place of Alexandre's relative…the dress…"
"Yes, yes", she cut him off. "It was pretty shocking, but we got it right in the end, there is no single chocolate stain on the dress anyway. Please don't tell me you are still disturbed because of that? You just should have told me; I could have driven for a while as well instead of you."
"It's not that."
Silence.
"What the hell is it, then?", Mercedes wanted to know, eyes narrowed.
Kurt sighed deeply. "It's the wrong dress."
…
Hours left until the wedding: 21
Miles left until Venice: 82
"Shoot me. Now." Mercedes expected that she would faint any moment.
"Excuse me?", her mom said tiredly. "How can it be the wrong dress?"
"It just is", Kurt muttered.
"Bro, that's just bitchin", Sam commented.
Kurt just rubbed his temples.
"Are you sure?", Mercedes asked him insistently.
He nodded, downcast. "It's not Coralee's dress. It's one of our models from our storage."
Mercedes gripped the seat in front of her tighter. She would have loved to cuss right now, but the words got stuck in her throat. She was at a loss of words, actually. So she just opened and closed her mouth until her mother turned to her, worried.
"Mercy? That's unlike you, being so quiet."
"For god's sake, why didn't you say anything!?", she yelled after she was able to talk again. "We were on the way with the freaking wrong dress?!"
"Take deep breaths, darling, that helps", her mother said, laying her hand onto Mercedes' trembling shoulder. "Let Kurt explain."
Phyllis looked at him, saying in a by far softer tone than Mercedes: "Why didn't you say anything sooner?"
Kurt shrugged, crestfallen. "I didn't know it myself until I saw Vanessa in that dress."
"Vanessa?" Phyllis was confused.
"Alexandre's granddaugh…nevermind", Mercedes explained shortly.
"But that was hours ago, my friend", Sam commented.
"Yes!", she whined. "We could have flown back and get the right dress, but it's probably too late for that now."
"Poor Coralee" Her mother sighed. "She is already nervous because of the wedding."
"Don't even remind me of that! You better should make a U-turn with the car and drive towards the other direction in high speed, Kurt, because none of us can never ever again come near Venice. Like, ever."
"Erm, well, some of us would like to drive to Venice." Sam had leaned his head against the pane, accepting that he probably wouldn't arrive at his destination that soon.
"Well, okay" Mercedes looked at him angrily. "But I think that you have to wait until we have solved our small problem. We are all in this together, right, Kurt?"
Sam looked as if he wanted to answer her back, that all this wasn't his fault, but another pissed glance of Mercedes let him close his mouth again.
"I think I solved the problem", Kurt said. "Can I explain?"
Mercedes crossed her arms. "You will sew a new one in time?"
"The right dress is on the way", he explained.
"How!?", Mercedes yelled irritatedly. "Will a carrier pigeon bring it!? Or a fucking hot-air balloon!?"
"Mercedes Seraphina Jones!"
"Sorry, mom."
"It's on a plane from Paris to Italy and will be fetched by a motorbike courier who will bring it to us. After I recovered from the shock after having seen Vanessa in that dress, I had to make a few phone calls."
"With Antoine?"
Kurt shook his head as it was an absurd thought, and for some reason, she got more pissed. "With Geneviève of course. She searched for the dress and found it."
"Where?", Mercedes wanted to know.
"Oh, it was at Antoine's apartment all the time, but not at the spot he had told me."
"That's why you were such a pain in the neck lately!", Mercedes blurted out. "Now, everything makes sense."
"Mercedes!"
"Sorry, mom. But Kurt, you should have opened the dressbag and check whether it was the right one. I mean if Antoine's room is full of wedding dresses…"
Kurt nodded and raised his hands in surrender. "Yes, you are right, I should have checked it first, and I don't get why I didn't do it. But you know, it's unlike Antoine to store dresses at his apartment. And the dressbag was exactly at the spot he had told me, with a name tag saying your sister's name."
Why should there be Coralee's name tag on the wrong dress? There had to be a reason for that chaos.
"So why should I check whether it was the right dress?", Kurt added.
"I understand", Phyllis said with a friendly smile. "I'm sure we would have acted like that as well."
Mercedes opened her mouth to answer her back but noticed her mother's warning glance and kept her mouth shut.
"So the right dress will arrive in Venice before us?", Sam asked.
"No."
"Okay, where else?", she wanted to know.
"Here." Kurt took a deep breath. "In Verona."
"We are in Verona?", Mercedes repeated. "What? And why exactly in Verona?"
Kurt rubbed his neck sheepishly. "It was… the only way."
Mercedes didn't believe a word he said. She narrowed her eyes and looked at him skeptically. "You talked about Verona all the time- are you sure this wasn't planned or something?"
"No!" Kurt turned around and looked at her with a pleading glance. "I swear! But when I looked at the map, I figured that Verona is practically on our way anyway. It's only a detour of thirty minutes…or something like that."
Those thirty minutes were added up to the thousands of minutes they had already lost.
"And…", Kurt added.
"Yes?"
"There is something else I wanted to do now that we are here. It doesn't take long, and the timing is perfect."
"I already told Coralee we will be in Venice in three and a half hours.", Mercedes remembered him.
"It won't take long, I promise."
They all got out of the car, her mother seemed to have troubles getting out, but with Sam's help, she finally did it.
"My friends", Kurt said solemnly. "I'm afraid I used that situation to turn something negative into something positive. Strictly speaking, into two positive things."
"You need to give us a hint or something", Mercedes answered tiredly and looked at the old building. "What is that place?"
"An auction house", Kurt said as if it explained everything. "I wanted to go to this place before Antoine told me to accompany you to Venice."
"Really?" Mercedes looked at the building closer. "And why?"
"Of course because of an auction", he said enthusiastically. "And as I have said, our timing is perfect!"
"For what?" Mercedes' mom looked at him expectantly.
"For a vintage gown of Charles Frederik Worth!"
Mercedes gasped for air. Did she just get that right?
"And not just any dress, it was one of his earliest and most influential works. A piece for true collectors. I thought I wouldn't be able to get here in time, but luckily, I was wrong. The auction is starting any moment!"
Mercedes just couldn't believe it. "Gosh, Kurt, why didn't you say that earlier? Screw that wedding, let's go to the auction!"
"Mercedes!" Phyllis shook her head but was laughing anyway.
"Sorry, mom." She turned back to Kurt again. "Can we see it?"
"Of course, it will be showcased inside. Ever since I fell in love with fashion, I wanted that dress for my collection. It made an impact on my time at college and during my occupational career, and I saved a lot of money to be able to purchase it one day."
"How much would spend on such a dress?", Sam asked. "Hundreds of Euros?"
Kurt's face expression told them that it was by far more than that. And Mercedes knew that Charles-Worth dresses must cost at least 10 000 bucks, probably more than that at an auction.
"A little more than that, I'm afraid. Maybe ten, twenty thousand or more."
Sam gasped for air. "For just a dress? With that money, you could nourish a third world town for a month!"
Mercedes threw him a regretful glance. "Thanks for the guilt feeling."
"Sorry."
"Pardon me", Phyllis spoke up tiredly. "But there is another dress we should worry about."
"Which other dress?", Mercedes asked before it came to her mind again. "Oh! Coralee's wedding dress." Charles Worth's gown let her forget about the dress of Décoste immediately.
Just at that moment, the noise of a motorcycle's engine made them all turn around and they spotted a motorbike courier in black, a big box on his back from afar who came closer and closer.
Mercedes gripped her mom's arm excitedly. "Whether it's him?"
"I think so." Kurt smiled. "There comes the bride."
"Thank god!", Phyllis called out.
"About time", Sam muttered. "I can't believe that only a dress is worth all the trouble, bro. Such a detour, only for a garment."
"Sam", Kurt said patiently. "In the past days, you were, like we put it in England, as firm as a rock. And you have every right to be angry, but you need to understand that there are things in life that are worth searching for."
"If you had told me, I would have insisted anyway that we drive to Verona", Mercedes explained and looked at Sam as well. "It's about staying true to yourself, right?"
He threw her a pensive glance and Mercedes would have loved to grin triumphantly. "Gosh, suddenly, I don't know what dress to find more exciting.", she said breathlessly. "The one I admire for years or the one my life is depending on?"
Kurt laughed. "Look, I will just bring your mother to a good place in the auction house while the two of you can take the box. This way, we can…how do we put it? Oh, yes, kill two birds with one stone, like you say it in America."
So they parted ways. While Kurt and Phyllis entered the building, Sam and Mercedes waited for the courier.
"You are not that forbearing with the fashion industry?", Mercedes asked with a grin.
"Sorry", Sam answered "I will try more in the future."
She was about to say that it wouldn't matter anymore as they wouldn't see each other again after they had parted ways but stayed silent. The courier got off his motorbike and walked towards them while he took his helmet off.
"Bonjour! Buon giorno! Hello!", she stammered, excited. "A delivery for Antoine Décoste? Or Sergio Bellucci? Or maybe Kurt Hummel?"
"Kurt Hummel?", the man repeated.
"Yes!" Mercedes clapped her hands delightedly and pointed at the box. "Wedding dress?"
The man shrugged; he probably didn't understand her.
"Here comes the bride?" She hummed the melody of the wedding march.
"Une robe?", Sam tried, throwing Mercedes an insecure glance. "That's the French word for dress, right?"
"Oui, une robe", the courier answered, relieved that at least one among those weird foreigners seemed to be sane. "Pour Monsieur Kurt Hummel."
"Oh, oui. Merci beaucoup !" Mercedes was so hyped up right now.
The courier retrieved a pen and the delivery confirmation and handed it to Sam. "Monsieur Hummel, s'il vous plait?"
"Ah" Mercedes sighed and looked at the direction of the auction house. She had no idea where Kurt was.
But Sam just nodded and quickly signed the paper with unreadable signs.
"Merci." The courier put down the box.
Mercedes elbowed Sam. "Just look how carefully he has secured the box."
"Of course", Sam said with a smile and elbowed her back.
She checked the name tag on the box – Coralee Jones. Perfect.
"Thank you very much! Grazie! Merci beaucoup!", she shouted after the courier who had already driven away with his motorcycle.
"Calm down a bit", Sam muttered. "He just does what he gets paid for."
"And contributed to that my sister won't bury me alive – no biggie." But then, she looked at him, serious. "We got the right dress, Sam. They didn't switch it for the second time, right?"
"You wouldn't be able to survive that. Neither would I."
Mercedes tugged him towards the building. "Come on, let's search for mom and Kurt."
"Shouldn't we put the dress into the car first? We could put it onto the car roof."
At that, Mercedes glared daggers at him. "I would rather put you onto the car roof.", she said warningly. "We will somehow find a place."
After they had put the dressbag onto the other one in their car, they went to the salesroom. Which was already full of people which were all wearing expensive sunglasses even though it was getting dark outside, ancient carpets and valuable oil paintings that must be centuries old were decorating the entire room.
That's so Italian, Mercedes thought. "I thought this auction was just for dresses, but it seems that other items will be auctioneered as well. A gown of Worth should be worth its own auction, right?"
"Frankly speaking, no", Sam answered. "Come on, let's get this over with."
Mercedes rolled her eyes. Alright, if Sam wanted to be fed up, just go on. But she would see an original, exclusive Charles-Worth-dress any moment, for crying out loud! And if Kurt was successful, she would spend the rest of their ride to Venice with exactly that dress and two (!) Antoine Décoste dresses on the backseat!
This couldn't get any better, could it?
