He’d been told that a hundred times. It hadn’t stopped him yet.
Bones dropped down to the sand next to Keoni and handed him a plate of fish. Their mothers were sisters, and descendants of the most celebrated war chief of Hawaii. They were cousins, but also friends. They had grown up on the water together, from their first waves at Queen’s Beach when they couldn’t afford surfboards and had to make their own out of sheets of plywood, to winning surf contests at Makaha.
While Keoni dominated on the big waves, Bones was more suited to bodysurfing and diving. Between the two of them, there was nothing in the water they couldn’t do.
“I got somet’ing I wanna run by you,” Bones said.
Keoni braced himself for Bones’s latest scheme. Bones was an entrepreneur who had a knack for coming up with crazy ideas that were sometimes profitable, and sometimes disastrous. It had been Bones who’d talked Keoni into giving surfing lessons to the wealthy tourists at Waikiki when they’d been teenagers. They’d made a killing. Keoni would have quit his job at the marina if he didn’t hate giving the lessons so much.
“What is it?” Keoni asked reluctantly. He already knew he wasn’t going to like it.
Bones lowered his voice and glanced around to make sure no one could hear him. “You remember that time we found that black coral in Maui?”
“Yeah.”
Keoni took a bite of the fish. The skin was salted and crispy. The white chunks of flesh melted on his tongue, but Keoni hardly tasted it. His stomach was in knots just remembering the dangerous dive in Maui last year. They had found an underwater field of rare coral, but it had been purely on accident. The depth gauge on their boat had been broken, or they would have never been diving that deep.
“I found it again,” Bones said.
Keoni put the fish down, his appetite gone. “What were you doin’ out there so deep?” he asked.
“Lookin’ for the coral,” Bones said as if it was obvious.
“Alone?”
“Nah. Kenny was driving the boat.”
“You dumbass. That was, what, 250 feet deep?”
“More like 300, brah.”
“Shit, Bones.” Keoni felt like he might throw up. He got to his feet and paced back and forth on the sand. His ribs screamed with pain whenever he moved, but he was so angry he didn’t even feel it. “What the hell is wrong witchu? You gotta death wish, or wot?”
Bones unfolded his long legs and got to his feet, glaring down at Keoni. Bones was one of the few people Keoni knew who could do that. Most people were shorter than Keoni, but everyone was shorter than Bones. Ever since Bones had grown taller than Keoni when they were teenagers, he’d used his height to his advantage.
Bones’s thick eyebrows were drawn together over his stormy gray eyes, and a muscle bulged in his neck.
“You’re the asshole who just spent all day tryin’ ta commit suicide! Had us all fuckin’ scairt to death.” He shoved Keoni’s shoulder. “And I got one death wish, eh?”
Keoni winced as the shove sent a fresh wave of pain through his injured ribs. He drew himself up to his full height, still three inches shorter than Bones, and raised his chin.
“I know what I’m doing,” he said.
The cousins glared at each other for a long moment, neither one of them wanting to be the first to give in. They had inherited more than height and build from their warrior ancestors. They had also inherited passion and a stubborn streak. Bones and Keoni argued loudly and often, but they hadn’t come to blows since they were fourteen.
Bones gave in first and looked away. Keoni let out the breath he’d been holding and relaxed his fists. He knew Bones was right: he took too many chances on the waves. Ever since Eddie had died, Keoni had been pushing harder and harder to make a name for himself. His risks had so far paid off—he was famous all over the islands for his big-wave riding—but he knew that one day his luck would run out.
“I got a boat lined up,” Bones said after a long silence. “I could use another diver.”
“And you want me?”
“I need somebody I can trust.”
Keoni finished his beer, tasting blood from his cut lip as he swallowed. There was no one he trusted more than Bones, not even his own brothers. Keoni guessed Bones felt the same about him.
“Those trees are worth about a grand each,” Bones said, lowering his voice.
It was a lot of money for only a few hours of work, but the danger involved raised the stakes.
“You’re the best diver I know,” Bones said, sweetening the pot. “Not just anybody can dive 300 feet.”
That much was true, Keoni thought. But it wasn’t skill he needed. It was luck. Anything over 200 feet was plain stupid.
“When?” Keoni asked.
“Two weeks.”
“Awrite.”
“Awrite?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.”
Bones grabbed two more beers out of the cooler and tossed one to Keoni. They popped the tops, tapped their cans together, and drank to their agreement.
“Now all we need is a driver,” Bones said. “Somebody who will stay on the boat while we dive and get us out of there quick-like if anyt’ing happens. Not that anyt’ing is gonna happen,” he said. “Just in case, eh?”
Keoni raised one eyebrow but didn’t comment. He knew all too well what could happen. The deeper the dive, the greater the danger.
Henry came over to join them, catching the tail end of the subject.
“What do you need a driver for?” he asked.
Bones looked at Keoni, his eyes glittering in the darkness. Keoni shrugged. Driving the boat was an easy job. Anyone could do it, even Henry, a haole from Seattle. Haole was a word that Hawaiians used to describe white people from the mainland who were ignorant of their culture. In Hawaiian Ha meant breath or life, and ole meant without. So, haole literally meant without breath. It was what the first Hawaiians had called the first Europeans, and the insult had stuck.
Keoni gave Henry a hard look and decided he would do fine for a driver. Henry wasn’t so bad. He was even decent at surfing. Keoni nodded at Bones and tipped back his beer.
Bones nodded back. “Heh, you wanna make fifty bucks?” he asked Henry.
“Depends on what I gotta do.”
“Just drive the boat while me and Keoni go on a dive.”
“That’s all? For fifty bucks? Are you crazy?”
“Nope,” Bones said. “You in or wot?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Henry said, stroking the hairs on his chin. “But I need a favor.”
“What?”
“I’m supposed to pick up my cousin and her friend from the airport tomorrow,” Henry said. “But I can’t get off work.”
“No one else can bust their ass for money?” Bones asked, and they all laughed.
Henry worked as a stunt double for a TV show that was filmed in Honolulu. Some days Henry had to run through glass windows, other days he crashed motorcycles. His friends all teased him, but he took it good-naturedly because he made more money than any of them.
“Come on,” Henry said. “I don’t want them to show up and not have a ride.”
“Your cousin look anything like you?” Bones asked.
“No, why?”
Bones grinned. “What time does the plane land?”
“Three o’clock.”
“We’ll be there,” Bones said.
“We?” asked Keoni. “I never said I could go.”
“What else you got going on?” Bones asked, laughing.
Keoni was notorious for doing nothing but surfing or working. His friends and family were constantly trying to drag him out to a party or fix him up with a girl, saying he needed to live more.
Keoni tried to think of an excuse to get out of the chore, but he drew a blank. Reluctantly, he agreed to go.
Mondays at Jeffersons
Seattle, Washington
January 20
* * *
Lou
* * *
Mary Lou Hunter hopped over a pothole on the street and landed in a puddle. Dirty water splashed over her legs, soaking her stockings.
Holding tight to her umbrella, she hurried across the street to her car, an early ’50s model Pontiac Star Chief that had seen better days. Lou had a fondness for the Star Chief that she called Bertha. Even though Bertha had more scratches than paint and refused to start on cold or rainy days of which today was both, Lou loved the car she’d bought with her own money.
Lou could hardly blame Bertha for not wanting to start. She shared the car’s disdain for Seattle’s weather.
“Please start,” Lou whispered before turning the key in the ignition. “I’m going to be late.”
The engine rumbled and then sputtered out. Lou leaned her head on the steering wheel and closed her eyes tightly, willing Bertha to start. She didn’t want to be late on her last date with Paul before she left for vacation. Paul hated it when she was late, and dinner would not go as planned.
Lou tried turning the key again, and this time after a bit of grumbling, Bertha roared to life. Lou smiled and patted the steering wheel, then pulled away from the curb. Before she met Paul at their usual Monday night spot, Lou had one stop to make. She’d called the camera store and told them she was coming by, and since she was such a good customer, the owner was staying open late for her. Lou swung into a parking spot in front of Pacific Camera and ran through the rain to the storefront.
Standing under the protection of the awning, Lou knocked on the glass door. She stood shivering in the cold until the owner opened the door.
“Come in, dear girl. Come in out of the cold.” Oliver Tollison opened the door for Lou and welcomed her inside.
Pacific Camera was Lou’s favorite store in Seattle. It consisted of a tiny storefront with cameras and equipment for sale and a darkroom for processing pictures in the back. It was family owned and operated. Mr. Tollison and his son did all the developing, and Mrs. Tollison usually ran the front counter.
Lou walked into the store, looking first at the wall of photographs that served as an inspiration to customers. There was nothing new, so she continued to the counter and bent down to inspect the lenses behind the glass.
“I need that 300mm lens,” she said, tapping the counter over the one she wanted. “And four rolls of film.”
Mr. Tollison’s bushy mustache lifted as he smiled. “Saved up enough, did you, now?”
Lou nodded. Ever since she and her roommate, Penny, had decided to take a vacation to Hawaii, Lou had known she wanted a telescopic lens. Between the plane tickets and the lens, she’d pretty much cleaned out her bank account.
Mr. Tollison reached behind the counter and pulled out the lens Lou wanted. “Black and white or color?” he asked.
“I’m going to Hawaii,” Lou said, smiling.
“Black and white, then?” Mr. Tollison said with a straight face.
Lou shook her head. “Color.”
“You need black and white.”
Mr. Tollison was a purist who believed that good photographers shot in black and white only. Lou had listened to countless lectures about the virtues of shadows and contrasts between light and dark. Color film was too new, too gimmicky for Oliver Tollison’s tastes.
“Fine,” Lou said, not wanting to hurt his feelings since he had stayed open late for her. “I’ll take three color and one black and white.”
Mr. Tollison rang up her purchases, and Lou handed over her hard-earned money.
“When you bring the film back here for processing, I’ll give you a good discount,” he said, walking her slowly to the door. “I can’t wait to see what you do.” He gave her a wink. “Especially with that black and white.”
“Thank you,” Lou said and hurried out the door into the rain.
Bertha was still warm from her recent drive and started on the first try. Lou rushed to Jefferson’s, where she and Paul had been meeting regularly on Monday nights for almost a year.
When Lou arrived, Paul was already sitting at a table with a view of the waterfront. Behind him was the lake and Mt. Rainier in the distance.
Lou smiled, realizing Paul had intentionally left her the best seat with the panoramic view. She took a moment to appreciate her good fortune. She was going on a fabulous trip to an exotic island tomorrow, but tonight, she had the best-looking man in the restaurant waiting for her arrival.
Paul noticed Lou and stood up to greet her. Half of the men in the restaurant were following Lou with their eyes, but she didn’t notice. She never noticed when men stared. Lou had no idea how beautiful she was. She had a heart-shaped face, wide-set eyes that were more green than blue, and her nose had been described as adorable. She had a sensual mouth, long legs, and a curvy figure that even the stuffy ensemble she wore to work couldn’t disguise.
Lou was both pretty and sexy, a combination most men found irresistible.
Paul looked her over from head to toe. “You look beautiful, babe,” he said. “You’re always worth the wait.”
“I had trouble with my car,” Lou lied.
Paul clucked his tongue and said, “I can’t wait until you get something decent to drive.”
“I don’t mind the Star Chief,” Lou said, taking her seat.
“You need something new. I don’t want you driving our kids around in that thing.”
Paul was always looking to the future. He and Lou had their whole lives planned out together, including how many children they wanted to have and what neighborhood they wanted to live in.
The waitress came up to the table with a fresh Manhattan for Paul and put it down in front of him with a smile.
“The lady will have a vodka martini, straight up, with a twist,” Paul said. When the waitress had gone, he leaned across the table and touched Lou’s hand. “I’m going to miss you next Monday,” he said.
“I’ll be home before you know it.”
Paul nodded and removed his hand. He took a cigarette out of his gold case and tapped it on the table. “I was planning to take you to Hawaii for our honeymoon,” he said, pinching the cigarette between his lips and lighting the tip. “You’re spoiling it for me.”
“Don’t be silly. Hawaii isn’t going anywhere. We can go again.”
“I’m the one who needs a vacation,” Paul said. “I’ve been working day and night.”
The waitress brought Lou’s martini, and Paul ordered their usual appetizers. They were quiet for a minute while Lou sipped her martini and Paul smoked. Lou undid the cuffs at her wrists and rolled her sleeves up to her elbows. She wished she would have had time to get out of her stuffy work clothes before coming to meet Paul. She was dying to get out of her tight stockings and let down her hair.
“Don’t spend your entire time hiding behind that camera,” Paul warned.
“What?” Lou raised an eyebrow.
Paul blew a stream of smoke into the air and tempered his words with a smile. “Just lift your head up every once in a while and take a look around, will you?”
“I will,” Lou said. “I promise.”
Paul pinned Lou with his brilliant blue gaze. “And don’t have so much fun that you forget about me,” he said.
“Impossible,” she said. Reaching across the table, she took Paul’s hand. “How was your day?” she asked.
Paul squeezed her fingers and then released her hand, sitting back in his chair. He hitched up his pants and crossed his ankle over his knee, getting comfortable.
“It was a very good day,” Paul said.
Lou listened and studied the man she was planning to spend her life with.
Paul was what they referred to as classically handsome. He had hair so black it had a blue tint, and dazzling eyes the color of an inky sky. His best feature was his charming smile. He was taller than average and physically fit. He managed to beat everyone at tennis and golf even though he never practiced.
Paul was a junior associate at a law firm, and in five years he hoped to make equity partner. Paul was
solid and steady. He was handsome and rich. He would make an excellent husband and father. Lou felt lucky that he had chosen her to marry out of all the women he could have had. She never considered that maybe Paul was the lucky one.
“You should have seen the look on his face,” Paul said, slapping his hand on his knee. “And then he said, ‘Are you just going to stand there all day?’”
Paul started laughing, and Lou realized that she hadn’t been listening to the story. She smiled at him, enjoying the look on his face when he laughed. He looked younger, and it reminded her of when they’d first met.
Paul ordered another round of drinks with dinner, and they spoke of their summer plans. They hoped to sail around the Puget Sound if Paul could get the time off. He loved sailing, and Lou loved relaxing on the water. They expected to have a boat of their own someday.
They finished dinner, declined dessert, and walked to their cars. The sky was cloudy, and the stars were hidden. The moon was only a sliver of light, and the night had turned colder.
Lou huddled inside her jacket, dreaming of the sunny skies that awaited her in Oahu.
“It looks like snow,” she said, looking at the sky.
“I doubt it,” said Paul. “It isn’t that cold.”
“Hmm,” Lou said, studying his chiseled profile.
She was leaving the next day, and she hoped he would invite her over to his apartment for a nightcap. They strolled slowly through the parking lot and stopped in front of Bertha.
Paul put his hand on the roof of the car and leaned down to kiss Lou. He lingered longer than was appropriate in public, and Lou thought he was working up to asking her over to his place. Lou was looking forward to it. Paul was a good lover. He was attentive and generous, and he always made sure Lou was satisfied. Lou leaned into him, realizing it had been weeks since they’d made love.
Paul pulled away and looked down into her eyes. Lou waited patiently for him to make the next move. That was how their relationship worked. Paul always initiated sex. He was old-fashioned in that way, and Lou found it sweet.
“I’ll see you in two Mondays, then?” Paul asked.
Try Easy: A Slow-Burn Vacation Fling Love Story (Aloha Series Book 1) Page 2