Against my better judgement I step into the cabin of the chopper. I don’t see anything nefarious like cable ties, handcuffs or the like. That’s a good sign.
Michel explains how to buckle the seatbelt and where to find headphones so we can still hear each other over the noise of the craft once it gets going. He seems friendly enough but I’m on edge. We take off, and I do my best not to bring up my breakfast. Soon, we’re over a blanket of endless rippling blue sea which, while beautiful, makes my stomach lurch. I find myself holding my breath when dizziness hits. I inhale like I’m a yogi and focus on staying calm. An adrenaline junkie I’m not, but I can at least try to appreciate the view of the archipelago of islands beneath me, scattered like so many puzzle pieces.
Lily
Sneak a pic of the hottie and send it to me! L x
Lily is so wise! There’s no time to waste, as who knows how long I’ll have internet coverage for. I open the camera and surreptitiously angle my phone toward Michel and snap a picture. For some unfathomable reason the flash goes off in a blinding explosion of light inside the small cabin. For a brief moment the world turns white. The helicopter suddenly dips, nosedives, and when my vision returns all I see is us hurtling towards the deep blue water at an alarming pace. I try not to panic as I let out a blood-curdling scream.
‘What are you doing?’ he yells as he fights for control against the down force of the wind. When we’re finally facing the correct way again he grins, as if we didn’t just face our imminent deaths (all my fault, I will admit). ‘If you want a photo to remember me by, you can at least ask.’
‘Oh, please.’ I roll my eyes. ‘It’s for insurance purposes. In case I go… missing.’ Better he knows I’m not to be messed with.
A frown mars his brow. ‘Missing?’
I nod. ‘Missing. I’m a moderately attractive thirty-one-year-old. I know how these things work, Michel, if that is even your real name.’ My heart beats so loud I can barely hear myself think. This spike in adrenaline cannot be good for my cortisol levels.
Michel bites down on his bottom lip so hard, it goes white. Is that acknowledgement that the jig is up? Or do we have some sort of helicopter malfunction on our hands? I quickly fire off his picture to Lily just in case she needs to investigate.
Lily
Oooh you lucky thing! Total thirst trap. He’ll soon make you forget all about Caleb!
Thirst trap? She’s lost her damn mind. What is she not getting? I’m at risk of going down in a fiery blaze of glory and I don’t even know the coordinates to tell her so she can arrive red-eyed and weepy to repatriate my body and lay me to rest back on home soil.
‘The only way you’ll go missing is if you blind me again by taking another unsolicited photo and the helicopter nosedives and we drown in the Indian Ocean.’
‘Yeah, sure, Michel.’ That’s exactly the kind of thing a kidnapper would say.
We hum along, the view enough to distract me so I try to put it out of my mind that some stranger is now in charge of my wellbeing and has already proven he can’t fly straight. There are white sandy beaches and blue skies as far as the eye can see. If he’s not a people snatcher and I make it to the resort, this forced break from real life won’t be such a hardship after all, despite leaving all I know.
Eventually I ease into conversation with Michel, while furtively checking my maps to make sure we’re indeed en route to the Last Chance Resort, which is hard to tell as my phone has now frozen. The cheeky pilot is quick with a joke and slaps his leg before he says the punchline. I like the guy, dammit. Even though he’s dazzlingly good looking, I’m not about to get caught up in anyLove Island-type of shenanigans. Plus who wants to date someone who flies into danger every day? Not me.
Our conversation trails off, so I gaze back to the map on my phone. The resort is the biggest structure on the island by far. Then there’s scattered housing areas. A school. A church. A grocery store and a few Creole takeaway restaurants. A huge sprawl of untouched rainforest. There are a few amenities like a golf course and a driving range. Both seem like illogical pursuits in this intense heat.
It might be the kind of island paradise that is made more beautiful by slow living, the ability to do absolutely nothing but work quietly in the bookshop and read on a sun lounger in my downtime. Bliss. The resort comes into view and is surrounded by thick lush rainforest as if bookending it. ‘Wow.’
Michel eases the chopper down and I send up my thanks that I’m still alive. I exit the cockpit after the cocky pilot and make my way shakily down the steps. I trip and fall forward; luckily, he catches me before I faceplant onto the hard asphalt of the helicopter pad.
‘Falling for me, Harper? Happens in my line of work all the time.’
I incinerate him with a glare. ‘Falling because of your erratic flying skills! It’s your fault I’ve got adrenaline pumping through my system, rendering me almost incapable of walking upright!’
‘My fault?’ His eyes widen. ‘You instigated the nosedive. Who takes sneaky pictures of their pilot? Stage four clingers, that’s who. Bunny boilers.’
Bunny boilers! How dare he! I make a show of huffing and puffing. ‘I’ve already explained myself, Michel, it was for insurance purposes. And just in case you get any more ideas, my friend Lily from London now has that picture.’
‘To give you her blessing to date me. Well, I won’t say no. You’re cute.’
I guffaw. ‘Does this schtick ever work for you? Because it needs work. A lot of work, Captain Crash and burn.’
He laughs. ‘Not usually, but it’s a numbers game. All those no’s will one day lead to a yes.’
‘Right. Well, here’s another no for your collection.’
Hand on chest, he makes a show of being devastated. ‘You jest.’
The feeling comes back to my legs, so I say, ‘No, I do not. You’re an incorrigible flirt.’ He’s messing around, like it’s a way to pass the time and make the days more interesting and not because he’s serious.
