by Tamara Woods
“Aloha, are you Vivianne that Winnie told me about?”
Vivianne smile took on a more natural look. “Yes, Winnie told me you’d probably be coming in today. Is there any style that you’re interested in trying out? Maybe a cut?” She looked over Fraya’s hair in interest.
Fraya fought off a shudder. “Oh no, no, just a wash, maybe a deep condition. I have some products that I normally use in my bag.”
“Do you use the Curly Girl method?” Vivianne asked and gestured for Fraya to come over.
“I’m impressed that you even know about it,” she said. It was a type of hair routine for people with curly hair, who wanted to keep the curls poppin’. She opened her tote bag and showed her products to Vivianne. They discussed what Vivianne offered in house and what she could use today that should work. Fraya felt more comfortable, as the stylist led her to her station. She sank into the comfy chair and relaxed.
Vivianne started working her magic and kept up a quiet line of conversation. Fraya obliged for a while before steering her toward the late surfer.
“I just tried surfing the other day. I’m definitely not a pro,” Fraya said with a chuckle. “Do you surf?”
“Not anymore. I used to surf all the time when I was younger, but keeping this place going eats up a lot of my time. Good thing I love it,” she said with a smile.
“Did you surf with Gamilla?” Fraya asked.
Vivianne looked at her for a minute. “Winnie did mention that you were interested in Gamilla’s childhood. Why?”
Fraya had known she would ask this question. If the positions were reversed, she would do the same thing. “I was there.”
Vivianne looked at her with interest.
“When she...died. I was there. I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t get police to her fast enough. I couldn’t...” Fraya’s throat tightened and she stopped talking.
The hair stylist nodded. She kindly gave Fraya a chance got regain her composure.
When she had herself mostly together, Fraya explained, “I just want to make sure that no stones are unturned. I feel responsible somehow.” Her voice was still a little husky and she had to swallow against the lump in her throat.
“I understand.” Vivianne held a fond smile, but her eyes were sad. “I used to surf with Gammy. Me, her, and Liz, ya? We were always in the water. Couldn’t keep us away.”
Fraya’s eyes widened. “The same Liz who is surfing on Saturday?”
Vivanne nodded.
“She doesn’t seem like she’s from here.” Generally, the people on the island had a relaxed way about them, especially a little further away from town. The girl in that interview hadn’t been chill at all.
Vivianne made a low noise, somewhere between amusement and irritation. “Oh yeah, she was around all the time. She came when we were in elementary. We were the three amigos, but things changed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sometimes they were tight. Just like family, ya? But other times, they just didn’t get along. They couldn’t stand each other. Sibling rivalry but worse. I stopped hanging out with them. Too much drama.”
“What was the drama usually about?”
“Anything. From grades to boys and everything in-between. They could be nice to each other, but they could get brutal. It was hard to be around. What they call it?” She continued massaging Fraya’s scalp for a minute before saying, “Frienemies, that’s the one. They were friends and enemies.”
“You said they fought over guys too? Anybody you remember in particular?”
She paused, a faraway look in her eyes. “Trenton. He dated Gamilla, but Liz was the one who talked him up all the time. She thought the sun rose and set on his abs.”
Fraya filed that tidbit away, but let things go. She wanted to enjoy the rest of her hair appointment in silence, thinking about how far a rivalry could go.
An hour later as she was buckling up her seatbelt, her phone started buzzing from an incoming text message.
Keith: Busy tonight?
She felt a little unnerved after last night. Did he like her or was she just seeing things that weren't there? She wasn't sure.
Fraya: Not atm. What's up?
Keith: Want to go to the surfers meet n greet? Invite only.
She hesitated. She definitely wanted to learn more about the surfing scene around the island. Maybe she could find some clues about the murder. But would it give him the wrong impression?
Fraya: Sure. Just friends, right?
A long minute passed and then:
Keith: Of course. As your friend, can I pick you up?
She could imagine the wry expression on his face and smiled.
Fraya: Sure, what time?
Keith: An hour?
Fraya: K, see you soon.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Fortunately, since Fraya’s hair had been laid and slayed, she could get dressed with the quickness. She thumped her laundry basket in front of her couch to pick something to wear. An evening outfit— something cute, but still casual. She didn't own any athletic gear that fit the bill. She picked a maxi dress that was different shades of jeweled toned reds, blues, and purples. She'd have to wear a strapless bra with it. A white and yellow plumeria in her hair finished off the look.
With some time to spare, she cued up the voice recorder app on her cell and talked out a scene where her teenage witch met the boy of her dreams. Her witch wasn't sure if she was ready for that.
I know the feeling, Fraya thought.
She was soon lost in the story, remembering how bright and painful first loves could be and trying to infuse the sentiment into each word. That was the fun of writing for young audiences. It brought her youthful years to the forefront. Plus, she added in the fun element of witches and supernatural elements that would make any teenage experience that much more angst-filled.
As she was rounding out her session, she received a text from Keith telling her he was outside. She quelled the irritation that he hadn't come to her door. They were just friends. Why would he come up? Instead of inviting him in, they were going to go directly to the event.
That was fine, right?
Right.
She grabbed her one designer bag, a vintage Michael Kors her ex-husband had bought for her birthday years ago, and matching sandals. A little gloss and she was off.
Fraya tried as much as possible to treat the Earth kindly, but she didn’t think Keith was concerned with environmental. He clearly didn’t seem concerned with leaving his carbon footprint on the world with his sleek black SUV. She said as much to him.
He pulled on his aviator sunglasses. "Just going in on me, huh? Not even going to say hi? All right then, do you think that me not driving this car is really going to have an impact on the state of our world? The earth is doomed, regardless of my car choice."
Fraya scoffed. "That's an excellent way of disassociating from your part of the problem."
"My part? What about you, Miss World? Weren't there some animals or something killed to make your bag and shoes?"
She sniffed. "They're vintage. Those animals died decades ago, before the world was 'woke.'"
He laughed outright. "Sure, sure. Whatever lets you sleep at night, Miss World."
He put the car into drive and they were on their way. She watched his hand turning the steering wheel and the ring on his pinky finger. It was gold with a black S insignia. It looked vaguely familiar.
"Is that a college ring or something?"
He glanced down at it in surprise. "Sometimes I forget I'm wearing it, I've had it on for so long. Yeah, from my frat."
"I wouldn't have thought of you as a fratboy."
"That was a long time ago. I was a different person then."
"More of a douchebag?"
"Hey!" he said in protest. Then he winced. "Maybe."
She laughed at this easy acceptance and then her stomach rumbled. She pressed her hand to it, hoping it wouldn't attract his attention. She realized she hadn't eaten today. Again
. One day, she vowed she’d stop letting distractions get in the way of normal eating and sleeping habits. Not today, apparently. But someday.
Keith glanced over at her above his sunglasses. "You wanna get a quick bite at a drive-thru?"
"I could go for a taco."
They pulled into the drive-thru at a local taco spot. They always had the freshest ingredients and made delicious smoothies. They each ordered tacos and drinks. Keith motored off after paying. She offered him cash, but he told her it would be her turn next time. They were driving to North Shore, which would take over an hour in decent traffic.
"Who's hosting this shindig anyway?" Fraya asked, squirting lime on top of her fish taco. She took a little bite and gave a little moan. Her mouth was definitely taking a trip to flavor town.
He choked a little at the sound, and took a drink of his soda before answering. "It's being held by the CEO of Aloha Waves. His name's Roderick Rejerio. He's lived here for years, but he's from upstate New York. A little stiff, but a cool guy though. He's like the patron saint of surfers around here."
She nodded. That was the company that was hosting the competition. If he was that involved in the surfing community, of course he'd host a party. Especially after Gamilla's untimely passing. He'd probably want to keep the surfers relaxed and invested in the competition.
"How did you get this invite? You don't seem like the pro surfing type." She looked out the window, watching the world pass by.
"I went to school with Rod. I've known him for years. He knows I like surfing competitions more as a spectator. He invites me to events every now and again."
"There's a lot I don't know about you," she said. Maybe too much.
He didn't respond, keeping his eyes on the road.
Fraya’s curiosity kept her mind churning though. How was he able to afford a business on the island and this brand new gas guzzling monster machine on a fledgling author income? He was as much a puzzle as everything else in her life.
They made their way on the highway, hitting the H3 until finally turning onto the H2. It was such a short distance, but still took over an hour to get there. They spent their time listening to an old school hip hop satellite radio station with Fraya often singing along and him laughing or just glancing at her every so often. There was plenty of traffic on the way, which definitely helped to make the trip that much longer.
When they arrived in Haliewa town, the pace felt like it slowed down to a crawl. Some people milled around here and there. Soon it would be dark and many vacationers would return to their hotels or Air B&B rentals. Families and surfers who lived in town were starting to pack up and make their way back after their afternoon of fun times.
Haliewa still had that look of old school Hawai’i, where the city wasn’t built up to the hilt and it felt like a small town. No towering buildings or tourist traps. The storefronts looked like they'd been around for a while or the owners refurbished an older building. So many places for clothing, dinner, and shave ice, one of Fraya's favorite thing.
Keith drove them further into the North Shore to an area that she was unfamiliar. The scenery shifted from beachside to more rural. The grass was tall and waved in the wind. Even the palm trees had thinned out. There were fewer houses and cars in the area. It reminded Fraya of farms back in West Virginia. Not long after, they drove past a prawn farm with huge ponds. At one point, the air smelled strongly of coffee, and she wondered if there were coffee fields nearby.
The guy's neighborhood was remote, set down the road from the main drag. Keith turned onto a private road that Fraya hadn't heard of. Sudden realization sank in, and she knew this was going to be a place unlike any she'd ever been to before.
He pulled up to a little white building with a thatched roof and talked to the security, asking him about his daughter, and he showed Keith his new pictures. He introduced the guard, Dan, to Fraya and she smiled in return. It took a moment for the gate to open completely and once it did, they drove into a tropical otherworld.
Breathtaking.
They motored to the front where another guard offered to valet. Keith climbed out of the SUV and walked over to her door. He offered his arm and she took it. She felt off-kilter more than a little unprepared for all this. She didn't want to gawk at everything like the hilljack she really was, but it was so overwhelming. The house stood over them, a beautiful cream with columns and terracotta roof. It was like something out of a movie scene.
One way in and one way out, she thought looking at the lane. At the front of the line there was a small building where another security guard was checked the list and letting people proceed. After they were checked off his list, Keith led them to the tall, thick hedgerow across the roundabout drive. A gate on the far end sat obscured by the greenery. When Keith pushed it open, Fraya couldn't hold back her gasp.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Keith asked under his breath. She just nodded. Lush and green, fairy lights everywhere. Water installations of statues and fountains were placed strategically. The garden sounded like a babbling brook. Or maybe that was the rock grotto in the middle of the garden. Koi fish swam languidly in the depths. Plants native to Hawai’i bloomed pops of oranges, pinks, and blues. Palm trees stood high along with avocado and lime trees. Against the darkening sky, it all looked magical.
Fraya felt distinctly awkward. She certainly did not live in the tax bracket that these people did. But in her former life as a real estate agent, she often talked to people from many walks of life and had learned to speak their language. She squared up her shoulders and plastered a smile on her face. Concentrate on puppies and kittens playing instead of the anxiety, she thought.
Keith steered her toward the man who was clearly holding court. He sat on rocks beside of the lit grotto. It was like the Playboy mansion, but with more clothes.
"Hey Roderick, how goes it?"
The women around him gave way as they gave one of those one-armed hugs that guys do with the back pat.
"On and on, my friend." His smile was brilliant against his dark tan, courtesy of his clearly Italian heritage.
Is it the 70s up in here? Fraya wondered, taking in Rod’s casual linen pants and the white button up that was open all the way down his chest. Was that a gold chain peeking out of all that furry chest hair? She suppressed a shudder.
He turned that smarmy smile on her. "And who's this lucky lady with you?"
"My good friend, Fraya,"
"What up yo?" he asked, his hand doing some sort of complicated gesture.
Fraya stifled the urge to roll her eyes. "How do you do?" She gave him a stilted hand shake.
He cleared his throat. "Right. The special drink of the evening is the Wiped Out. If you drink too many, you'll definitely be wiped out." He chuckled at his clever play on words.
Kind of sad when even money doesn’t help people laugh at the bad jokes, Fraya thought unkindly.
Brushing off the awkward greeting, Roderick gestured for one of the waiters to fetch them a drink. Fraya took a spritzer from the tray and Keith chose a locally brewed IPA. Drinks in hand, they followed the host to a group of people Keith knew from previous gatherings. They all politely ignored Fraya. Roderick launched into a tale of how he'd landed the property through some swift negotiations and wooing the previous owner's daughter. Clearly, a story he'd told a few times before.
"And then she became my wife," he said, and everyone joined in polite laughter, though a few people grimaced.
"Why that reaction?" she asked Keith quietly.
"His wife died a couple of years ago. The joke doesn't land as well as it used to."
Fraya's palms were damp—nerves. Where were the surfers? As she glanced around, she spotted a few A-list celebrities chatting. They really are just like us, Fraya thought and then felt silly for thinking it. Of course, they're "just like us." They weren’t magical unicorns.
"Do you want me to give you a tour?" Keith pitched his voice low just for her ears, picking up on her wandering attention. When she nodde
d, he made their excuses and led her away, his hand on the small of her back.
She considered removing his hand, but it was calming to have him there. Maybe she wouldn't have to worry about some skeevy rich guy with more money than brains trying to hit on her.
He guided her through the garden, through an archway composed of wisteria, other ivies that she couldn't identify, and fairy lights. Whimsical. A white door with an antique, black iron knob stood in the middle of the arch.
"What's through here?" she asked.
"My favorite spot." He pushed open the door with a little shove. "After you," he said. She ducked under his arm and entered, trying to ignore the way her heart sped up as she brushed past him.
The structure was open air, like many were on the island. Only a few people had made their way there, making it feel like a secret garden. Blue and yellow tiles paved the ground. One side of the structure, black iron-wrought benches lined the walls. Immediately, the couple in the corner caught her attention. They were talking with an intensity the seemed like arguing. Even though Fraya couldn't hear them, their body language said it all. She supposed rich people couldn’t solve everything with money. Another universal truth.
Her eyes flitted away. The middle of the area was dominated by a brick oven, which was currently not in use.
"His chef makes fantastic pizzas," Keith said, nodding toward the oven. She murmured a noncommittal reply, still getting her fill of the setup.
Near the brick oven, a small bar set held the fixings for the drink of the night. A few intimate tables with two to three metal chairs offered seating. And a couple of long benches lined the perimeter of the outdoors room. Large wrought-iron light fixtures hung from the ceiling shaped to resemble dangling ivy.
"I would love to write here someday."
"Maybe we can come back sometime," he said.
She didn't comment, wary of encouraging him. This was just a friendly outing. Too friendly would push them to a place she wasn't comfortable with yet. And she wasn't sure if she ever would be.
The couple had apparently stopped arguing and called over to Keith.