Make Me Crazy

Chapter 1

Paige

“Oh, my God! Oh, my God! No! No! No!” I missed it. I can’t believe I missed the last charter flight from St. Lucia. On the day of my big sister’s wedding. I am SO severely screwed.

I stand in the tiny airport blinking quickly, trying very hard not to cry.

My cell phone rings. It’s my mom. Oh, farts. Put on a brave face, Paige!

“Hi, Mom!” I say brightly.

“Where are you?” she hisses into the phone. “Brooke is losing her mind.”

“Tell her not to worry! I’ll be there in plenty of time.”

“Plenty of time? You should have been here two days ago! You’ve missed the rehearsal, the dinner, the ladies’ night on the pirate ship…” she says.

“I’ve got three hours. It’s a twenty-minute flight from here. I’ll be there right away.” I hurry down the airport, my two huge suitcases flying behind me as I frantically search for a charter, preferably a cheap one, since I only have a couple hundred left on my credit card.

“I can’t believe you’ve done this again, Paige. 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 hair stylist and makeup artists just left. You’re not going to look anything like the other bridesmaids.”

“I know, but if you knew what the last two days have been like—“

“—What time does your flight leave?”

“Umm, it’s a charter, so they’re just waiting for one passenger, but then we’re loading up.” Oh, I’m going to hell for all the lies I’ve told her since I left New York.

“Gotta go, Mom! I think she just showed up!”

I hang up before she can say anything else and skid to a stop in front of a charter service kiosk. No one is standing behind the counter so I ring the bell repeatedly, even though I know it’s totally obnoxious. “Hello! I’m having an emergency! I need your help.”

A woman in a white uniform comes out the back room. She does not look happy. “What’s wrong? You’re in a huge hurry to leave paradise so you can relax somewhere better for a few days?”

Well, that wasn’t very nice. I smile sweetly. “My sister is getting married today over on a tiny little island called Lover’s Cay, I was supposed to be there two days ago, only I—.”

“Save it. I don’t have any more planes today. It’s the World Cup finals. All the pilots have gone to the pub.”

“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! Do you know anyone who would take me?”

“No, sorry. Go ring someone else’s bell.”

As she disappears into the back, tears prick at my eyes. Don’t cry, don’t cry. Crying won’t help anything. Walk. Just start walking. You will find some help.

As I run the length of the airport, my heels clicking along the white tile floor, my heart starts to sink. Closed signs are sitting neatly on each counter I pass. When I get to the end, the doors slide open and my feet carry me outside for reasons I can’t explain. I step out into 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 Rick, my asshole boss, made me work an extra day on the real estate deal that someone else could have assisted him on. I didn’t cry when the flight from New York to Florida was delayed due to mechanical difficulties. I didn’t cry when they overbooked the flight from Florida to St. Lucia and wouldn’t let me on.

But now, now, it’s okay to let it go. At least out here, I can be alone to cry. I plunk myself on a bench shaded by the building and give in to despair. Sobs pour from my chest. My sister is never going to forgive me. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve flaked on her. Three months ago, I was supposed to meet her and her friends in Vegas for her stagette party, but Rick the dick made me cancel at the last minute. The year before, I promised to go back home to New Hampshire for her engagement party. Missed that, too. I’m the worst sister ever.

The sound of a helicopter catches my attention. I watch as it lands on the pad, and the blades slow to a stop. The door opens and a tall, built guy in shorts and a white t-shirt hops out. I leap to my feet and run in his direction, dragging my luggage.

“Hey! Hi, there!” I holler.

He doesn’t answer but takes a key out of his pocket and locks the door.

“Hey! Helicopter man! I need your help!”

His body stiffens, then he turns to me with an irritated look on his face. Even though he’s wearing aviators, I can tell he’s annoyed. Why am I so annoying when I panic?

I stop right in front of him, panting. “Hi! Sorry. I need your help.” Pant.

“All done for the day. Check back with me tomorrow. Or better yet, check with someone else.” His accent says he’s American, probably from the mid-west.

He looks me up and down. “You look high maintenance. I don’t do high maintenance.”

Well, that is certainly rude.

He pockets his keys and walks toward the parking lot. I follow him like a puppy.

“Wait! It’s just a very short ride, I promise you! Are you familiar with Lover’s Cay? It’s like, twenty minutes from here. You can still catch almost the whole soccer game!”

“I have no interest in soccer, but I’m still not gonna help you out.” He keeps walking, striding toward one of the few remaining vehicles in the employee parking lot. A black Jeep with no top.