5. Planes, Shame, and Automobiles…
5
Planes, Shame, and Automobiles…
Paige - Two Days Later
So that horrible feeling I had that things were about to get worse turned out to be a premonition. Because things are most definitely so much worse than I ever could have imagined. The meeting was still going strong at eleven yesterday morning. By the time I decided to pull the pin and abandon ship, I only had fifty-two minutes to make it to LaGuardia. I paid the taxi driver an extra hundred to speed his ass off, only to pull up at the airport to find out that all flights were delayed due to fog. And I’m pretty freaking sure the driver knew about the fog but took my money anyway. Bastard.
So instead of making the mother of all rehearsal dinner speeches and impressing the hell out of my family, I missed the entire thing. And Guy is so furious, I’m sure I’ll be out on my ass the second he can find a replacement. I wound up spending the night in a chair at the gate, and finally, this morning, my flight was able to leave (fifteen hours after it was supposed to take off). I’ve just landed in San Felipe, on Santa Valentina Island, and am currently wandering around the small airport looking for the charter service I was supposed to take to get to Azure Island.
And I don’t know whether there was a bomb threat or what, but this airport is empty. Like Zombie-apocalypse empty, even though it’s the middle of the day. Truth be told, it’s kind of eerie and it’s making me feel a bit panicky.
Oh my God. I just realized I’ve committed all three of the deadly Chadwick sins. I’m late. I’m almost certain to be unemployed soon. And I’ve eaten five pounds worth of Cool Ranch Doritos in the last twenty-four hours (because apparently I only eat food that matches my skin tone). So when you put all of these things together, what do you get? Yes, that’s right—I’m a late, fat loser. Okay, I’m not fat. I’m a little bloated. I actually object to the use of that particular ‘f’ word on account of it being freaking rude. I’m only saying that because that’s what my family is going to think/tell me when they see me.
I hurry down the middle of the airport, dragging my suitcase, my dress bag, and my makeup kit, in search of an open kiosk, but so far, nothing. My cell phone rings. It’s my mom. Of course.
“Hello, Mother!” I say brightly even though my heart has sunk so low, it might as well be at the bottom of the sea.
“Where are you?” she hisses into the phone. “The wedding is in three hours . Tiffany is losing her mind.”
“Tell her not to worry! I’ll be there in plenty of time.” Total lie.
“Plenty of time for what? Her baby shower?”
“Is Tiff pregnant?”
“No, she’s not. I’m being hyperbolic. Now where the hell are you, Paige? And don’t you dare say New York because I will lose it! ”
“I’m not in New York.”
“Are you on Azure Island yet? Please tell me you’re on this island.”
“I’m at the airport in San Felipe right now, and it’s only a fifteen-minute flight from here. See? I’m almost there.”
“I can’t believe you’ve done this again. Not this time.” Her voice breaks, and I can feel tears forming in my own eyes. “We’re starting photos in ten minutes, and you’re going to miss that, too. The hairstylist and makeup artists just left. Even if you do make it, you’re not going to look anything like the other bridesmaids.”
Let’s be honest, I wouldn’t have anyway. “I know, but if you knew what the last four days have been like. A man had a massive heart attack, Mom. Well, big. Let’s try to keep in mind that this was a legit emergen?—"
“What time will you land?”
I skid to a stop in front of the one charter service kiosk that doesn’t have a ‘closed’ sign on the desk. “Umm, it’s a charter, so they’re just waiting for one passenger, but then we’re loading up.” Oh, I’m going straight to hell for all these lies. “Gotta go, Mom! I think she just arrived! See you in a few minutes!”
I hang up before she can say anything else. No one is standing behind the counter, so I ring the bell repeatedly, even though I know it’s totally rude. “Hello! I’m having an emergency! Somebody?! Anybody?!”
A woman in a navy uniform comes out of the back room. Her name tag reads: Noreen, Santa Valentina Charters. Noreen does not look happy. “What’s wrong? You’re in a huge hurry to leave paradise so you can go be obnoxious somewhere else?”
Well, that wasn’t very nice. I smile sweetly. “My sister is getting married today over on Azure Island. I was supposed to be there four days ago, only I?— ”
She holds up one hand. “Save it. I don’t have any more planes today. It’s the Caribbean Cup. All the pilots have gone to the pub.”
No, no, no, no, nuh-uh. “What? That’s not a thing. The world doesn’t shut down for a soccer game.”
“It’s called football, and yes, it bloody well does.” She shrugs and turns from me.
“Wait! Please. I have money. There must be someone who would take me.”
She turns back and sighs. “You could try down on the docks. There are a few seaplanes there. You might find someone, but I doubt it.”
“Okay, great. Which way is the dock?”
She points to her left. “That way, but it’s too far to walk. It would take an hour.”
“No problem. Where can I get a cab?”
She shakes her head. “I feel like you already forgot about the part when I told you about the football game.”
“I did not, but I was hoping that there might be at least one taxi driver who doesn’t watch soccer.”
“Football.”
“Same thing. Which way is it to the taxi stand?”
“Far end of the airport. Just out the doors, but you won’t find anyone. Everyone’s gone already.”
I blink quickly, feeling those pesky tears threatening yet again. “It’s just … so important that I get there. I can’t miss my little sister’s wedding.” I hold up the dress bag. “See? I’m a bridesmaid. I should be there already getting my hair and makeup done and wearing this awful peach dress. There must be a way. Please help me, Noreen. I really need help.”
Pointing to her right, she says, “You can rent a car at the next kiosk. ”
“Rent a car? But I’m going to be there for four days and it’s just a quick drive.”
Shrugging, she says, “You can either rent a car or call your sister and tell her you’re going to miss the wedding.”
I close my eyes for a second, then open them and grind out, “Thanks for your help.”
“You’re most welcome.”
She didn’t mean that. But to be fair, neither did I.
I sprint the ten steps it takes to get to the San Felipe Car Rental kiosk and find the bell. Banging on it quickly and repeatedly, I call, “Hello! Is there anyone here?”
A door to my left opens, and Noreen walks through it. She takes off her name badge and pulls another one out of her suit jacket pocket and affixes it to her lapel. This one says: Noreen, San Felipe Car Rentals. Smiling at me, she says, “Can I help you?”
“Seriously?”
“Did you need a car, ma’am?”
Okay, I’m going to lose it. No, Paige. Stay calm. You need this woman. I force a smile which I’m sure makes me look like a complete lunatic. “Yes, I need a car.”
“What type of vehicle are you looking for? Luxury? Mini-van? Economy?”
I’m so angry, my eyeballs are shaking. “Economy. The cheapest thing you’ve got.”
She makes a tsk ing sound. “I’m afraid we’re all out of economy cars at the moment. Would you like to wait and see if one comes back in a few hours?”
I swallow the tirade on the tip of my tongue, exchanging it for, “No. I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”
She taps on the keyboard for a minute, then says, “I’ve got a lovely Toyota Sienna that just came back from getting detailed. And good news, we’ve got our Caribbean Cup Promotion going on today so I can throw in four bottles of Fiji water for free.”
“Awesome.”
“And where are you going today?”
“Where am I—?!” No. Calm. “I just need to drive it from here to the dock where the seaplanes are. I’m assuming there’s somewhere I can park it for a few days.”
“Oh yes, they have a secure lot there. I believe it’s forty dollars a day,” she says. “I’ll just need your driver’s license and we can get the paperwork started.”
“Perfect. Thanks.” While I dig around in my handbag for my wallet, a thought pops into my head. “Say, Noreen. You wouldn’t be able to give me a lift, would you? For a fee, of course.”
She looks at me like I’ve just asked her for a threesome with her and Puff Daddy. “There’s no way I can leave. I’m swamped today.”
Thirty minutes later, I finally find the dock. I’m honestly so stressed I’ve barely even noticed how beautiful this island is. It’s a fucking paradise, but it’s completely lost on me. I squeal the tires as I turn into the parking lot and come to a screeching halt in the first stall I reach. Getting out, I leave the mini-van door open while I race over to the payment machine, jam my credit card in and follow the instructions, waiting a torturous twenty seconds between commands. When I get to the last question, I let out a panicky cry. “What’s my license plate number? How am I supposed to know that?”
I run back over to the van, snap a photo and sprint back, only to find the machine has timed out. “No, please, please, please… ”
Taking a deep breath, I start over.
Three minutes later, I’ve got the van locked up and I’m running along the dock with my luggage bouncing behind me on the wooden slats.
Don’t cry, don’t cry. Crying won’t help anything. Run. Just keep running. You will find some help.
When I reach the end of the dock without seeing a soul, my empty stomach churns with desperation. There’s nowhere else to run, except right into the sea. I stand perfectly still in the hot wind, my mind racing. What do I do?
Cry. I’m going to cry. I’ve been holding it together for the past four days. I didn’t cry when Li’l Rhythm had the heart attack and we went into crisis mode. I didn’t cry when Guy made me cancel the second flight. I didn’t cry when my flight was delayed and I missed my charter.
But now, it’s okay to let it go. At least out here, I can be alone to cry, so even though I’m technically in a public place, I’m not in public because I am All. Alone. In. The. World.
I plunk myself on my suitcase and give in to despair. Sobs pour from my chest. I’m the worst sister of all time. Tiffany is never going to forgive me. It’s not as if this is the first time I’ve flaked on her. The truth is, since Guy offered me the job, I haven’t been there for her at all. I wouldn’t forgive me either.
I’m crying so hard, I don’t even register the sound of a plane until it lands in the water nearby. I watch as it slows and turns, then glides to the far side of the dock. It’s bright yellow and a little rickety. In my normal life, I’d never step foot on that thing, but it’s my only chance.
I stand, load up my arms, and drag my suitcase as I run toward the plane, waving my makeup case at the pilot while the propellers slow to a stop. The door opens, and a tall, built guy in jeans and a white t-shirt hops out.
“Hey! Hi, there!” I holler.
He ignores me in favor of locking the door.
“Hello, Mr. Pilot Man! I need your help!” Mr. Pilot Man? WTF, Paige?
His body stiffens, then he turns to me with an irritated look on his face. Even though he’s wearing aviators, his set jaw is making it clear that he’s annoyed. Why am I so annoying when I panic?
I stop right in front of him, panting. “Hi! Sorry. I need to get to Azure Island right away.” Pant. Pant. How embarrassing. Chadwicks don’t pant. Especially not in front of insanely hot men.
He sniffs, then says, “All done for the day. Check back with me tomorrow. Or better yet, check with someone else.” Looking me up and down, he adds, “You look high-maintenance. I don’t do high-maintenance.”
Wow. What a jerk. “First of all, the last thing I am is high-maintenance. And second, I’m not asking you to do me. I’m asking you to give me a ride.” Although, my lady bits wouldn’t mind negotiating the type of ride I’d be getting.
He grins down at me, and it’s not a particularly friendly grin at that. There’s something about it that causes a shiver to run down my spine. Pointing to my makeup kit, he says, “What’s in there?”
Lifting my chin, I say, “None of your business.”
“If I’m not mistaken, it’s filled with all sorts of creams and paints and powders you don’t need. Any woman with that much makeup is high-maintenance.”
Well, that was certainly rude. Except for the part about me not needing makeup. “That’s a pretty big assumption. What if there’s no makeup in here at all? Maybe I have a chronic illness and I need dozens of medications every day to keep me alive?”
“Do you?”
“Are you always this nosy?”
“You do realize you need something from me, and not the other way around, right?”
“Fine. It’s makeup,” I say. “But it’s for my job, not because I care about this kind of thing. And I work sixteen hours a day. I don’t have time to be high-maintenance.”
He pockets his keys and turns away from me, calling over his shoulder, “Where do you work? Inside a tanning booth?”
What a jackass! I stand, frozen in place while he strolls toward the parking lot. My brain seems to have seized up and I can’t quite think of a response. He’s arrogant, rude, know-it-all-y, and just plain awful. But he’s also my very last chance. So instead of running up behind him and pushing him into the ocean (which is super tempting at the moment), I leave my suitcase on the dock and follow him like a puppy. “Wait! It’s just a very short ride, I promise you! Are you familiar with Azure Island? It’s only five minutes away. You can still catch almost the whole soccer game!”
“It’s seventeen minutes from here, and I have no interest in football, but I still can’t help you out.” He continues striding toward one of the few remaining vehicles here—a shiny motorcycle.
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Take your pick. The result’s the same.” When he reaches the bike, he mounts it with one quick move, then starts it up. Well, that was ridiculously slick. Why on earth do I find this awful man so attractive? I mean, yes, he’s tall, he’s got thick chestnut brown hair that I want to run my fingers through, and he’s devilishly handsome. Sure, he’s built like a tank. All muscles on his muscles. But still. Rude.
Oh, my God, Paige! Stop ogling him! You’re in the middle of a crisis! “I’ll pay you anything,” I yell over the engine. “Well, not anything. I’ve got nine hundred dollars left on my credit card. Okay, maybe a little closer to eight, but it’s all yours. For just one tiny piece of your day.”
He shakes his head. “Sorry, lady, that plane doesn’t move for under a thousand.”
I reach out and touch his forearm. “Please. I’m desperate. I need to get to my sister’s wedding. My boss made me stay back three extra days and then all the flights out of New York were grounded due to fog and I missed the charter. The ceremony is in two hours. I’m one of the bridesmaids, and if I’m not there, she’ll never ever forgive me.”
My desperation has no discernible effect on him. He shakes his head. “As much as I don’t wish I could help you, there’s a storm blowing in from the south. Too dangerous. There’s no way you’re getting to Azure today.”
Tears fill my eyes, but I’m too upset to be humiliated by them. That’ll come later, I’m sure, but for now, there’s only the soul-crushing defeat of having gotten so close, only to fail. I’m sweating and hungry and overheated and overtired and … and I’m a total disappointment.
I nod at him and whisper, “Okay. Thanks, anyway.”
Turning away, I slink back to the dock to get my luggage, looking up in time to see him pulling out of the parking lot. I settle myself on my suitcase again and dig around in my purse for my phone. I find my lip balm first, and stall for long enough to apply some before I take out my cell. Finally, I do what needs to be done and dial my mom’s number so I can fess up.
Crap. This is going to be ugly.
But only for the next twenty-five years of my life.