ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Long before DVDs, Mary Jo saw Gone with the Wind in the theater. She was ten. The story never left her. She read the book three times. She saw the movie every time it was re-released. GWTW will be seventy-five years old this year and is her favorite movie. She would only make a minor change: Leave Ashley to Melanie and hold on tight to Rhett. Her writing sprung from reading, watching, and always wanting to edit.
Mary Jo was born in Chicago and has never strayed far from home. She majored in Accounting and received her MBA in Finance. She worked in the investment and banking businesses.
Mary Jo is a member of the Romance Writers of America, Chicago North RWA, and Windy City RWA.
To learn more about Mary Jo Burke, visit her online at: http://www.maryjoburke.com/
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BOOKS BY MARY JO BURKE
Aloha Lagoon Mysteries:
Deadly Bubbles in the Wine
Other works:
Spicing Up Trouble
Cupid's Busted Arrow
Mother Nature's Man
All Hours Trading
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SNEAK PEEK
of an upcoming Aloha Lagoon Mystery:
DEATH OF THE BIG KAHUNA
By
CATHERINE BRUNS
CHAPTER ONE
When I was a little girl, playing waitress was one of my favorite pretend games. Together with my friend, Laura, who lived next door at the time, we'd rush around and serve imaginary people at my mother's oak dining room table. In nice weather, we used the back deck of my house. The state of Vermont has beautiful foliage during the autumn season, and we enjoyed gathering the multi-colored leaves, pretending that they were different types of entrees. The customers never complained about how long the food took to arrive, nothing was undercooked, and we always received hefty tips. And I never spilled food or broke glassware.
Yeah, only in a perfect world…
"Carrie Jorgenson?" A deep male, accented voice boomed in my ear.
I jerked myself out of my thoughts. A tall, powerful-looking Polynesian man was standing to my left, glancing down at me with a somewhat impatient look upon his face.
With trepidation, I slowly rose from my chair. "Yes, I'm Carrie."
The man looked me over without comment, and extended his hand. "Hale Akamu. I'm the owner of the Loco Moco." He gestured for me to sit down again.
"It's very nice to meet you. This is such a wonderful location for a restaurant." The café was close to the beach and situated smack in the middle of the highly popular Aloha Lagoon Resort in Kauai.
It was a perfect day weather-wise, something I had learned not to take for granted growing up in snow-ridden and rural Vermont. The sky was a cloudless blue like the ocean, waves were gentle, and the temperature warm without nagging humidity. Hale and I were the only ones inside the building, besides a server and two customers at the counter.
He ignored my comment, perhaps thinking I was sucking up—which, of course, I was. Desperation can do strange things to an unemployed person.
Hale eyed me sharply. "References?"
I swallowed hard and produced a manila folder from my shoulder bag. "Yes, they're from back home on the mainland. I just moved here a few weeks ago."
He gave a curt nod and glanced at the page while I took a moment to study him. He was very good looking, similar to Tom Selleck from his Magnum P.I. days, with thick, dark hair and eyes black as coffee without a hint of cream. I knew he was in his early forties because I'd checked him out on Google the night before. In addition to the restaurant, he owned a mammoth-sized shopping mall on the island of Oahu. Hale had inherited a vast amount of wealth from his parents when they'd died in a car accident about twenty years ago. It sounded like a horrible tragedy for a child to endure—anyone actually—and for a moment I pitied the man. Unfortunately, there was something about him that immediately registered high on my radar in terms of dislike.
Even during our brief exchange, he managed to puff his chest out in an exaggerated manner while looking down his nose at me. He clearly thought I was beneath him. As if this wasn't enough to repulse me, I saw his eyes focus on my chest for the briefest of seconds. When he raised them again and found me staring back at him, his mouth twitched into a grin.
Yeah, not in a million years, buddy.
Hale tapped his pen on the tabletop with an authoritative air. "I don't see any serving experience here."
Darn. Kim was right. I had called my best friend from back home last night, and she had advised me to lie about my experience. "Make up some hole in the wall restaurant in Vermont," she'd advised. "He'll never check."
But I couldn't do it, especially now, not with those calculating eyes pinned on me. "I-I did work in customer service."
Hale pointed at the sheet of paper. "Walmart. You worked for a Walmart. It's not the same thing."
This was not turning out the way I had hoped. It was my third interview in as many days, and I was slowly running out of options. Brad, my boyfriend, worked as a surfing instructor at the resort and had told me that the Loco Moco was hiring.
I decided to level with the man. "Please, I really need the job. I'm willing to do almost anything."
He narrowed his eyes, and a sly smile formed at the corners of his mouth. "Oh, really?"
Ugh. Bad choice of words, and this guy had letch written all over him. I heard myself babbling. "Um, I meant wash dishes or sweep the floor."
His eyes swept over me, and my discomfort grew. "Well, that's a shame."
Yikes. Yes, Hale was a pig. I was almost certain of it.
"Excuse me, Hale."
Hale glanced up. "Yeah, what is it?"
A man about my age glanced from me to Hale and seemed embarrassed. "You asked me to let you know when Carmen got back from lunch."
Hale scowled and rose to his feet. "I'll be back in a minute, Miss Jorgenson. Don't go anywhere."
As he spoke the words, I noticed how quickly the color rose in his neck and cheeks. Whoever this Carmen was, I sensed she might be in for a bit of a tongue-lashing. Hale swaggered behind the front counter on his long powerful legs, head held high and erect. His dark eyes circled the restaurant while he walked, as if afraid he might miss something, and his nose was stuck out so far I found myself afraid he might suck up all the air in the place. He disappeared through the double swinging doors with portholes, which I assumed led to the kitchen.
I let out a long, steady breath and tried to calm myself. I seemed destined to strike out again. Maybe panhandling on the beach was in my future.
I looked up to see the other man watching me with unabashed interest. Well, he wasn't just any man. This guy was as hot as the inside of a volcano.
He flashed me a perfect, gleaming white smile. "Interview?"
I nodded. "I don't think my chances are good."
"Ah, I wouldn't say that. We've all been working overtime because the place has been so busy. And Hale does not like to pay overtime." He extended a hand. "I'm Keanu Church."
"Carrie. Nice to meet you." His hand was smooth and cool to the touch.
"Likewise." Keanu had dark wavy hair, a natural tanned look to his skin, and crystal blue eyes the same color as the ocean. Although he was slim, powerful muscles bulged underneath the short sleeved white T-shirt that said Loco Moco on it. The jeans he wore fit him perfectly everywhere, and I do mean everywhere. He was tall, but anyone was tall when compared to my five foot, four inch stature.
Before we could exchange any more pleasantries, the sound of a woman shrieking met our ears. I glanced around. There was now one lone customer at the counter, reading the newspaper, and he seemed disinterested.
"I don't care what he did," Hale yelled. "The customer is always right. And since you have no idea how to treat the public, you're fired."
"You're not firing me because of that idiot, and you know it."
Hale's voice was similar to a low and angry growl. "Get your stuff and get out."
The woman's voice was menacing. "I would advise against firing me, Hale. For your own sake."
"It's Mr. Akamu to you now. And your empty threats don't bother me. You're no longer an employee here. Pick up your things and leave."
I expected more sobbing, but instead the woman's tone turned venomous. "You'll be sorry for everything you did to me. I'll make you sorry."
Hale laughed. "Threatening me, huh? Yeah, like that's the first time I've heard that line. Get your pathetic self out of here."
Keanu's expression was grim while his eyes remained focused on the swinging doors. Less than a minute later, a woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties pushed through them, a purse in one and a tote bag in another. She turned and lifted her middle finger in salute toward the kitchen. "You haven't heard the last from me, you freaking tyrant."
Only she didn't say freaking.
As I watched the woman depart amidst a sea of sobs, my insides filled with dread. I turned to Keanu. "Why did he fire her?"
Keanu sighed. "A patron left her a nickel tip and she made a snide comment to them. Hale overheard and went nuts. It's nothing new. Believe me. He fires someone at least once a month. It's like he needs to make a quota or something."
A giant knot formed in the pit of my stomach. Do I really want to work here? Uh, no. But then again, what other choice did I have? All of my life, I'd wanted to escape from my hometown and had dreamed of living on a tropical island. When my boyfriend, Brad, had landed a position as a surfing instructor, I'd asked if I could tag along. Although his reaction had been less than favorable, he'd agreed.
Brad and I had been dating for close to a year, but instead of becoming closer over time, it seemed as if we were growing apart. He'd come out a few months ago to get settled and had recently started to ask around about a job for me. Another surfer had told him there might be an opening at the café.
Keanu broke into my thoughts. "It sounds like your chance for a job might have just improved."
Before he could say anything further, Hale pushed through the swinging doors and strode back over to us. He had papers in one hand and a giant coffee mug that read Hale Rules in the other. He placed the papers in front of me.
"Carrie, is there any chance you could start work right now?" Hale pointed outside to where the tables were starting to fill. "Our dinner rush will be starting soon, and as you might have just overheard, we're suddenly shorthanded."
Now, I'm not a superstitious person. Plus, I needed the job. Yet I had a bad feeling about coming to work at a place where the owner was obviously disliked. Plus, what if he came on to me? I didn't need that hassle. Maybe I could accept the position for now but still look around for something better.
Hale waved an impatient hand in front of my face. "Hello? Are you still with us, Miss Jorgenson?"
I gulped, and forced the words out before I had a chance to change my mind. "Ah, yes, I can start right away."
He nodded and pointed at Keanu. "Good. Take her into the kitchen and show her around until Vivian frees up. Then she can shadow her around for the rest of the day—get drinks and stuff for the customers. A little later on you can show her how to run the register."
Keanu nodded. "Sure thing."
Hale pointed at the papers on the table. "Fill out your W-4 and I-9 and give these to Keanu before you leave."
"Of course. Thank you very much."
He looked down at me, but it felt more like a leer and practically made my skin crawl. When he reached for my hand again this time, I flinched. It was moist and clammy and sent a shudder of repulsion through me. Ick. I hastily pulled away.
"I look forward to having you here."
Before I could muster a reply, he was over at the register, laughing with a customer who had come inside to pay his bill. Hale slapped him on the back and rang the man's credit card through the machine, between taking sips of coffee from his egotistical mug. He then turned and disappeared into the kitchen again. I turned to Keanu, who gave a slight shrug.
"I guess congratulations are in order. Come with me. I'll show you where you can put your purse and find you an apron. I'll get a name tag made up for you too."
I followed him through the swinging doors into the shining kitchen, still shocked that I actually had a job. I couldn't wait to tell Brad. "You're an import, aren't you?"
It took me a minute to realize that Keanu was talking to me. "Yes, I've lived in Vermont my whole life."
Keanu grinned, and for the first time, I noticed the adorable dimple on the left side of his mouth. "Did you get tired of all that white stuff?"
I laughed. "Something like that. Plus I've always wanted to live in a tropical paradise."
He ran a hand through his dark hair, and I found myself wondering if it was as soft as it looked. "Tropical, yes. Paradise—eh, not so much. So tell me, what's snow like? I've never seen it."
"Shut up."
He smiled. "I'm dead serious. I've always wanted to ride a snowmobile. Maybe I'll go check out Vermont sometime."
From his physique, he seemed better suited to a pair of swim trunks and a surfboard than a ski parka. "You were born here?"
Keanu shook his head. "I was born on the mainland, but my parents moved here when I was a baby. The island's all I've ever known. Don't get me wrong—I love it here, but I really want to see other places. Experience other seasons. You know, watch the leaves change and maybe shovel a driveway or two."
I raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief. "Believe me, you're not missing much. So, did your parents name you after the actor?"
"Keanu means cool breeze in Hawaiian. My mother tried to convince me she came up with the name because of the long walks she loves to take at night, but I wasn't fooled. Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure is one of her favorite movies, and it happened to premiere the same year I was born. Coincidence?" He grinned. "Nah, I don't think so."
I smiled back at him and then glanced around at the gleaming, stainless steel kitchen. A short balding man in a white chef's hat was stirring something on the huge eight burner stove. There was a walk-in freezer, two dishwashers, two three-bowl sinks, and endless counter space. The one nearest to the chef held a whole pineapple, red peppers, and spices. My stomach rumbled as the smell of whatever he was stirring hit my nose. I hadn't eaten yet today—primarily because of nerves—but now I was starved.
Keanu brought me to a smaller room that branched off from the kitchen and pointed at an open, empty locker. On the opposite side was a flight of stairs that I figured led to an office over us.
"You can put your purse in here," Keanu said. "We don't have locks for them. Your welcome to bring one in, but no will bother your stuff. Only the employees are allowed back here. He reached over it into a cubbyhole above the locker and produced a white apron that said Loco Moco on it. "Put this on." Then he glanced at my hair. "Hmm."
"What's wrong?"
"I'm not sure if Hale will insist that you wear a hairnet or not."
I made a face. "But I'm not cooking. I'm only serving. Plus my hair's in a braid." It fell way below my shoulders. I'd been growing it for what seemed like forever.
He nodded. "You've got a point. Still, the man rules with an iron fist around here."
"Yeah, that's pretty obvious."
"It's a shame to cover up something so beautiful." Keanu's tone was so low that I barely made out the words. "I hear Viv out in the kitchen. Come on, I'll introduce you."
I followed him out the door. Did he mean I was beautiful? Oh get a grip, girl. "Are you a server here?"
Keanu shook his head. "I'm the assistant manager, so I run things when Hale isn't around. I keep the books for Hale but also help out with serving when needed. Hale lets me make my own schedule, but I usually put in ten-hour days. I'm studying to be a CPA."
"Wow, when do you have time for school?" I said.
"I've been taking classes online. I'm here so much these days that it's getting really tough to find the time, but I manage."
The portly male ch
ef was standing in the doorway of the walk-in-freezer, chatting on the phone with someone. A pretty woman who appeared to be about my age was writing something down on an order pad. As we approached her, she looked up and flashed me a genuine, warm smile.
"Viv, this is Carrie Jorgenson," Keanu said. "She's starting work tonight. Hale wants to know if you can show her around."
"No problem." Vivian extended her hand forward. She was pretty with delicate features and short, blonde hair worn in a pixie cut. Slim and about my height, she moved about the kitchen in a graceful manner that reminded me of a bird while she chattered on.
"Nice meeting you," Vivian said. "Mainland, right?"
I laughed. "Is it that obvious?"
She smiled. "I've lived in this state all my life. I'm pretty good at picking out the imports, such as yourself. Mainlanders aren't as relaxed and always seem to be in such a hurry."
Speaking of which, the sound of someone running down the stairs could be heard. Hale's face appeared before our eyes as he leaned over the railing and pointed at Keanu. His dark eyes raged with an internal fire. "I want to see you in my office. Now."
"Yes, sir." Keanu winked at me. "Nice meeting you. Catch you later."
"You too," I managed to say while Hale glanced over at me. His dark eyes met mine and then raked slowly over me. Instinctively, the hairs rose on the back of my neck. Why did it seem like this guy was undressing me in his mind? Pervert.
I watched Keanu casually start up the stairs, and then he disappeared from sight as the wall separated him from my view. "Is he in trouble?"
"Nah," Vivian shook her head. "Hale always acts like that. It makes him feel more important." She studied me closely. "Cute, isn't he?"
I grinned. "Are you talking about Keanu or Mr. Akamu?"
She laughed. "You know darn well who I'm talking about. Not the big kahuna, that's for sure. He's a jerk. As soon as I can catch a break, I'm out of this place." She looked at my hair. "Oh, I see we're going to have a problem."
Deadly Bubbles in the Wine (Aloha Lagoon Mysteries Book 4) Page 17