“How do you think I make my tips?” she says, laughing.
“I didn’t think you made tips. Remember, you said you have no money to pay for rent or utilities?”
“Right, well, try strutting a little next time you’re about to jump into the pool after someone. You’re prettier than I am, so I’m sure it’ll work out for you.” She sticks her tongue out at me like the little girl she still acts like and leaves my bedroom.
I climb out of bed and pull out a folded pile of clothes from my dresser. I have five sets of my uniforms, and when the pile gets slim, I know it’s getting close to the end of a work week, but today, the pile is full. A pile of Mondays, that’s what it is.
I pull on my red, guard shorts and throw my vibrantly colored, floral tank top over my head. Although the shirt just says, “Lifeguard,” it screams “Aloha, tourists!”
With a quick yank, I pull the elastic from my hair, feeling my long waves fall heavily against the back of my shirt. I shower at night so I can sleep a little later, even though Lea still wakes me up earlier than necessary. I braid my hair and toss it over the back of my shoulder. Done. Yet, I’m willing to bet Lea is on step-two of her un-meltable makeup configuration.
“This is why you don’t need to wake me up in the mornings,” I tell her as I pass by her room, confirming my assumption. “You’re sweating in the sun all day. Give it up with the gobs of makeup.”
“I’m sweating all day,” she repeats. “That’s why I need makeup.”
“Okay, well, I’ll be in the car waiting ... ” I say, but mutter under my breath, “for the next fifteen minutes until we’re on the cusp of being late.”
It’s not fair that I was forced to grow up before Lea was, but life happens and all the crap that goes along with it. It’s why I try to be responsible and make sure she’s heading down the right path in life. That’s all I’ve been doing for the last ten years since Mom and Dad passed. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but I was eighteen, and she was twelve. She was already a rough teenager, just a year into those horrific tween years, but she knew we were on thin ice with the state. We fought tooth and nail to make sure I gained custody of her. I wasn’t old enough to be raising a teenager, but there was nothing in this world that was going to take Lea away from me, until now—until Noa. I inhale, trying to think peaceful thoughts, still attempting to digest the idea of Lea being someone’s wife. I like Noa. He’s a great guy. He’s smart, spent four years in the Marines, has nice parents, and he adores Lea, but he works non-stop, running a restaurant, and I don’t know if that kind of life and the resulting lack of “together time” will bode well for someone like Lea who needs constant attention.
“Here, ready, let’s hit the road, lady,” Lea sings as she hops into the passenger seat.
“How much coffee have you had this morning?” I ask her.
“A pot,” she says, whipping her head around and smiling at me like the damn Joker.
“Dear God, get me through today,” I mumble. “Why did I think it was a good idea for you to work with me?”
“Because I was fired from the hair salon. That’s why,” she reminds me.
Right. She was giving out free haircuts to Noa for four months because evidently, Noa needs haircuts once a week. Kenny Chesney blares through Lea’s phone just as I switch the gear into drive. “Who is calling this early?” I ask her. Why am I even asking?
She doesn’t answer me as she picks up the phone. “Hi, honey!” Noa. Of course. The nights she actually sleeps in her own bed, Noa calls first thing in the morning to remind her that he loves her, just so she knows this very important piece of information before she starts her shift at the pool bar, which he frequents almost daily. “Of course, no problem.” What is she agreeing to now? “Yeah, I know they’re almost sold out tonight, but I’ll be able to snag a free one.” She’s friends with the front desk manager. As a matter of fact, she’s friends with everyone. Half of the hotel staff calls me “Hey,” but that’s cool. I’m not the socialite like Lea. “I love you more.” A giggle ensues. “No, I—I can’t do this right now, Kai is next to me.” She cups her hand around the phone as if I can’t hear what she’s saying. “You know I do.” Giggle number two. “Okay, okay, yes. I do! Bye, babe.”
I shake my head. “You’re the most annoying sister in the entire world.”
“No, you are,” she says, poking my arm. “Noa’s friend is moving into town, and his house was supposed to be ready today, but I guess they need another few days, so he asked if there are any free rooms at the hotel.”
“There’s no way. I’m pretty sure I heard they were planning to walk people today with how booked up they are.”
“Eh, I’ll wink and nudge. George loves me. He’ll help me out. Plus, the guy is a Marine, and that’s all they’ll need to hear.”
“You ask for a lot of favors for someone who’s only been working at the hotel for such a short time,” I remind her.
“It makes up for you never asking for favors, so it kind of just works itself out, you know?”
“That’s exactly how it works,” I lament.
We pull into the overfilled lot and find one tiny spot at the very end of the last row. It’s going to be a madhouse here today. “Put on your happy face. It’s time to get busy,” she squeals.
Happy face. Must put on a happy face. I love to watch people break every pool rule listed on the huge sign, posted strategically right beside my chair, every single day. It’s fun, fun, fun. Yay.
I shake off my grumpy exhaustion and force a smile, just a little one though. “Okay, let’s get the crazy under control.”
After working at the Wailea Royal for the last four years, my facial expressions change on their own accord when I walk in through the lobby. From the beaming smile, with my shoulders thrown back to the chipper “hello” I offer all the staff members I’m passing, I sometimes wonder who I’ve become. An actress, I suppose.
Lea isn’t acting, and she makes that clear as she feels the need to greet everyone with double cheek kisses and hugs. She has quickly become the sweetheart of the Wailea Royal. It irritates me a little, but it’s not like I can expect to earn that imaginary title with a simple smile and “hello.”
I continue walking through the wide lobby, past the lounge, and out through the open lanai. The pool attendants are setting up the lounge chairs and drying off the morning dew, and the bartenders are making a ruckus with the glasses behind the bar. Despite my fear of being late for work, I’m normally the first lifeguard here, which is fine since by the time I get settled in my chair, I’m too far away from the other lifeguards to fall into any unnecessary small talk. I know I sound miserable, but I’m not. I just have these daily “woe is me” waves of misery when I feel reminded about missing out on my twenties, or when I see a bunch of vacationers my age enjoying their freedom, rather than being tied down with an inflexible work schedule. I allow myself to feel like crap for two minutes each morning before I force myself to move forward. Otherwise, my emotional state would eat me alive.
“I’ll see ya later, sis,” Lea says, walking by me and heading toward Cabana Hut—the pool restaurant.
“Have a good day,” I sing with a half-smile and a lazy wave.
“Cheer up, grumpy,” she sings back.
I slump down into my guard chair and peel my shirt off leaving my shorts in place. I typically prepare myself for a dive into the water once children start arriving.
“Hey grump,” Talon says, walking past my chair, repeating Lea as if it were planned.
“Really?” I reply. “Of all people, you’re going to jump on the grump bandwagon?”
Talon is another guard, a perfect specimen of another guard. He’s like a guy from Baywatch. His pecs are bigger than my boobs, and they bounce like Pam Anderson’s. It’s cute, and a little fun to watch. He’s half Hawaiian, half Californian, and somehow looks that way, as stereotypical as it sounds. His lighter eyes and mocha-colored hair are stunning. He’s pretty, and he know
s it. I don’t think he’s actually lifeguard certified. I think the hotel managers hired him to look the part here while the rest of us, who are certified, do the heavy lifting. All he appears to do is apply sunscreen to his biceps once an hour. Then he goes for a quick swim so he can do a quick dolphin pose before breaching the water with his eyes closed, his hair flying back into a wet mess, and then ... just because there are water droplets dripping down his forehead, he has to run his hands over his face and through his hair before climbing back out of the pool. I’m pretty sure he offers every woman watching a quick Zac Efron wink while he’s doing so. Living in the land of the beautiful has helped me learn to see through the outer layer of bronzed skin, seeking a soul that isn’t tainted with narcissistic thoughts. “Mahalo, beautiful. So, ah, a few of us are going out tonight. What do you say?” Talon asks me. “Your sister told me to convince you.”
“No, thank you,” I reply kindly, though I’d rather laugh and say, what I’m really thinking.
“Why don’t you ever go out? I feel like I ask you about once a week … you know … because of your sister and all, and you still turn us down. We’re all very friendly people, and it seems to me you could use a night to relax.”
I don’t think Talon is trying his flirting methods on me. I think he genuinely finds interest in my lack of enthusiasm to hang out with King Triton—the man he thinks he is. “I’m just not a party-goer. I prefer a comfortable couch and TV at night.”
“That’s hella boring, Kia. Let me show you that you’re wrong. You don’t have to be a ‘party-goer’ to have a fun time.”
“Lea is going?” I confirm.
“Obvi. These are her plans.”
“Mmm, yeah. I still don’t think so.”
“You’re coming,” Talon replies.
“No, I’m not,” I argue.
“Yes, you are,” he says, walking away, leaving me without the option to respond. I roll my eyes, for my sake only, and slouch back into my chair.
3
Denver
“Wake up sleepyhead,” I whisper to Aya. “We’re here.” I run my fingertips through her hair and kiss her forehead. She wakes up slowly, looking confused for a minute.
“I slept through the whole flight?” she asks.
“The whole thirty minutes. Yes.” As we’re pulling up to the gate, I pull my phone on and click the Airplane Mode off.
“How come there’s Internet on the plane, but you can’t keep your phone on the Internet?” Aya asks, looking up at me with glossy, tired eyes. What seven-year-old cares this much about Internet? This generation can’t even fathom life without technology. It’s ridiculous.
“It’s all just a big silly plan to make sure people aren’t talking on their phones and annoying each other throughout the duration of the flight. People wouldn’t fly anymore if that were the case, you know?”
“Well, they do have phones though,” she points out.
“Yes, but those cost like ten dollars a minute or something.”
“Oh,” she says, sitting back into her seat.
I see a few messages pop up as my phone finds a Wi-Fi connection. It’s Noa, and I hope there isn’t an issue with our house. He set everything up for me since he’s already over here, but he’s been a little out of it lately. Some chick he’s been with has him wrapped around her finger, and his head has been in the clouds.
I open his messages, reading:
* * *
Noa: Dude, the people who were supposed to move out delayed their plans for a day. I’ve got it all under control though.
* * *
Shit. Where the hell is our stuff if the last tenants are still living there?
* * *
Me: That sucks, man. What’s the new plan? Where’s our stuff?
* * *
This isn’t the message I wanted to receive after being up since five, running all over Oahu this morning. Noa’s a good guy and has his shit together, but I think we have different ideas on having things under control. It’s different with a kid in tow.
By the time we’re deplaning and heading through the small airport, I’m getting annoyed that Noa hasn’t responded yet.
“Aloha,” a tourist teaser greets us with a orchid lei.
“Mahalo,” I respond, letting her know we’re not tourists and she doesn’t need to waste her flowers on us, but despite the number of flowers Aya is given on a weekly basis, she’s grinning from ear to ear waiting for her flower necklace.
“Mahalo,” she says once receiving the flowers.
“Come on, sweets. We need to get outside so I can call Noa. I won’t be able to hear him from in here.”
“Is something wrong?” she asks.
“Nah, just a change in plans. No need to worry.”
We step out into the taxi pickup area, and I give Noa a call. He better answer. We have nowhere to go and nothing with us except a bag for each of us.
Three long rings blare in my ear before I hear a click. “Mahalo, mannnn.”
“Did you get my text?” I ask before saying hello.
“Yeah, I was just responding to you. I had been conducting interviews this morning, so I was a bit tied up, but I’ve got you covered, bro. Wailea Royal has a room for you tonight, and everything should be all set for you at the house tomorrow.” Whatever. I guess it’s better than unpacking today. I could use a day to lounge at a pool and sip on some fruity drinks with umbrellas in my glass.
“Cool, cool. I appreciate everything you’ve done,” I tell him.
“Don’t mention it. Sorry about the house today. I don’t have much control there. I was just the middleman, but I do have good news on the job front.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“The job is yours if you want it.”
“Aww, am I last choice after your interviews this morning?” I tease.
“No, I was waiting on you to get your ass over here.”
“Sweet. What’s the gig? And, thank you. It’s much appreciated.”
“It’s ah—it’s my new business I was telling you about,” he says.
“You didn’t tell me about a new business. You just said you had a possible opportunity for me.”
“Oh, right. Well, yeah, man, I opened a restaurant last year, and it’s booming. I got a waiter position open and I know it sounds like shit money, but most of my waiters are bringing in about four to five hundo a night.”
“Damn, count me in, bro. I bartended at a Fridays back in the day, so I have some experience. Plus, I’m kind of good at multi-tasking.”
“Scratching your balls while shooting targets isn’t considered multi-tasking,” he counters.
“You’re funny,” I tell him. I wave to a cab driver and wrap my arm around Aya to guide her in the right direction.
“I’ll meet you at the hotel in a bit, and we’ll go over more details then. Sound good?” he asks.
“I’ll see you then,” I tell him.
Aya and I slide into the back seat of the cab, and I buckle her seatbelt. “We’re heading to Wailea Royal,” I tell the driver.
He peels away from the curb without a response. My truck won’t be here until tomorrow since it was the first available transfer service I could get the thing onto this week. I couldn’t make any firm plans until a couple days ago since anything can change without a moment’s notice in the Marines. I guess being at a hotel isn’t the worst place to be without a vehicle. Of course, anywhere is better than staying in Oahu for another day, with or without a truck.
We arrive at the hotel, and I immediately feel out of place as I watch people coming and going in their upper-class attire—white linen pants and Tommy Bahama shit. Here I am in a pair of running shorts and a Nike tee. At least Aya fits the part. She’s dressed nicely thanks to Molli taking care of her this morning. We’re still clashing on our differentiating thoughts on appropriate apparel, but I assume this will get a lot worse before it gets better.
Check in is simple, ending with a quick mention of my nam
e in exchange for a key. Who the hell is Noa sleeping with here?
“You got your swimsuit in your bag, right?” I ask Aya. We don’t typically go far without our pool gear since there’s always a place to stop and cool off in this part of the country. It’s one of the many reasons I’m staying here away from the states. It’s paradise, and I don’t have any good reason to head back to Texas.
“Of course I do, silly,” she says.
“Okay, let’s go change quickly, and we’ll head down to the pool.” Aya emits an ear-piercing shriek, and her sandals clap against the tiled floor as she runs toward the elevators as if she knows exactly where to go. I guess she’s stayed in enough hotels throughout her short life to know where things are supposed to be.
“It’s not even that busy,” Aya shouts while running right for the water.
“It’s busy enough that you need to wait up, kiddo. You know better than to run near the pool.” Aya stops dead in her tracks and gives off a look to inform me I’ve embarrassed her. I hold my hands up. “I’m sorry, just no running. I don’t want you to get into any trouble with a lifeguard.”
“Why would a cute little girl like her get in trouble with a lifeguard?” I’m asked. I turn around, surprised to be spoken to by anyone here. You’d think the cap on my head that’s curved over my eyes would discourage anyone from engaging in conversation with me.
“Excuse me?” I ask, turning to face a lifeguard—a drop-dead gorgeous lifeguard with oversized sunglasses and a killer tan.
“I was kidding,” she says, nudging her glasses down the bridge of her nose.
The woman’s eyes are startlingly beautiful—two round copper pennies with dark caramel outlines. She’s like a Hawaiian goddess. I swear these hotels hire models to play the staffing roles. “I hope so,” I reply. “I don’t want my daughter breaking any rules just yet.”
“She’s fine,” the woman says. “Relax.”
The Man Cave Collection: Manservant, Man Flu, Man Handler, and Man Buns Page 90