Page 1 of Bridesmaid to Bride

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Mile High Flub

EVA

The plane plummets through the air, and we’re in free fall. “Holy crap.” Forget white-knuckling the armrests; I’ve got a rigor mortis grip. I should’ve known better than to board a jet with propellers that need winding for takeoff.

I’m on my way from Atlanta to the gorgeous and exclusive island of St. Sebastian for my twin sister’s televised wedding. Now, I just have to survive so I can perform my duties as maid-of-honor.

“It’s fine, Eva,” Brielle, my seatmate, says as the plane somewhat levels out. I just met her, but we’re already BFFs. She’s super cool, and I can tell she’s tough, like a cabbie from Queens. She pats my shoulder. “You’re just scared. This is normal.”

When we boarded, I mentioned not being thrilled about this Fisher Price plane. I hope she’s right.

“Valued SkyHop passengers,” a voice crackles through the intercom, and everyone looks up. “This is your captain speaking. Make sure your seat belts are securely fastened. It looks like we’re in for a bit of a bumpy landing.”

There’s dead silence except for the snap of the intercom. Then another voice shoots through the airwaves. “Man, Gary, that was an understatement. We’ll be lucky to get this thing on the ground in one piece.”

The captain’s low voice shoots an octave higher. “Aw, man, is this thing still on?” Then the crackling stops like soggy Rice Krispies.

Gasps and murmurs rumble through the plane, and I feel the temperature instantly rise as my body breaks into a cold sweat. “Still think this is normal?” I choke out, tugging at my dress to cool my own jets.

“The co-pilot’s being a wimp.” Brielle shrugs. “We’re good.”

BS. In a blur, I grab my inhaler and take an infinitely long drag from it, then power up my phone because I have to text my dad, sister Paige, and friends goodbye. I also need to have my neighbor adopt my orchids and remove that velvet bag from my nightstand. My dad cannot find that. “It was great meeting you, Brielle.” Hysteria hijacks my voice.

“Stop it,” she says, smacking my arm. “We’re not dying. We can’t. We just vowed to become mile-high club members. With hot men we meet on a flight. So we need to stay alive for at least one more plane ride.” A massive jolt sends a few pieces of luggage crashing out of the overhead bin. The engine revs as the plane tips sideways, and the loose suitcases go rogue. Then, we’re nose up again.

Screams echo through the cabin.

I grip my phone so it doesn’t fly away, then sit in agonizing disbelief. I’m going to die young, just like my mother. Except I can’t! I just got Dad to agree to let me work for his New York law firm remotely so I can stay in Atlanta. I’ve been a major screw-up over the last few years, at least in his eyes, and I’ve finally got my shit together. And there’s so many things on my bucket list! “I’ve never had a three-way,” I say, clearly no longer in control of what’s spilling out of my mouth. “I haven’t tried a space dunk Oreo!”

After another terrifying moment of riding this bucking bull, I ditch my flailing tough act and grab Brielle’s hand.

The oxygen masks fall, and a symphony of screams and gasps echoes through the plane. Brielle’s face is a picture of serenity, but by her tight squeeze, she’s hanging on by the threads of her cropped cami top.

I’m only twenty-nine! Skye, my psychic ex-stepmom, said I’d die at ninety-two.

Wait. Ninety-two, twenty-nine. Did she get the numbers reversed? Shit!

The motor chugs, stops. More plummeting, more screams. Confessions rush out of my mouth like lava. “I stole a lemon pop cake when I was five! My bag’s a knockoff!”

After a thunderous grinding sound, Brielle says, “That was just the landing gear.”

“Why bother?” I bark through chattering teeth. I know I’m going to die someday, but like this? They’re going to have to pressure wash me off the runway!

The plane goes vertical, nose down. West Quinn, my BFF, flashes through my mind. He and I were inseparable for two and a half years, and he clearly wanted a relationship with me. But I was afraid of ruining my favorite friendship, shoulder to lean on, and confidante. Then, he went on Bridesmaid to Bride, a reality show that ends in a proposal, featuring my twin sister Paige, which caused a rift between us because, hello, he dated my sister—well, kind of. Worse, he kissed her. He left the show immediately after the smooch because he swore he felt nothing, and I believe him, which went a long way to repair things between us. But still—it’s weird. Since West became tight with the guy Paige picked, he’s the best man this weekend. And I’m the maid-of-honor, so we’re all here together. Perfect.

After another terrifying moment of riding this bucking bull, Brielle says, “It was great meeting you too, Eva.” Her squeaky voice tells me my unflappable new friend has flapped.

We head deep into another free fall that takes my stomach with it. I glance back to see our only flight attendant tightly strapped into her seat, chugging down two nip-sized bottles of Tito’s.

That’s when I know.

We’re toast.

I send a group text to everyone telling them how much I love them. Then, I punch out a text to West.

Me: Plane in jeopardy

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