Honey Girl

by Lisa Freeman

  Nigel was totally mind-boggling. His hair was halfway down his back, and there was a tiny dimple in his chin. I felt a surge of heat erupt. He lifted up my Don Ho wraparound shades and gently placed them on top of my head. The sun hit me like a strobe light, splitting my brain apart. I was dizzy but couldn’t keep from smiling as I looked into his dark blue eyes. My mind went blank: a white slate of nothingness. I didn’t think about my dad or Jean, Rox or Claire, Hawaii or the mainland, 33 Sage or the Java Jones. At that very moment, there was nothing in the world but Nigel McBride.

  “Cool eyes,” he said softly.

  Oh my God, he liked my hazel-green eyes. I went on total autopilot and did everything Annie taught me, including wetting my lips with my tongue before biting down on the bottom one ever so slightly.

  “We’re going to Roy’s,” Jerry yelled to Nigel.

  Nigel just kept looking at me. He tugged at my skirt and said, “Do you go to Marymount? Is this your uniform? You smell like vanilla.”

  I nodded yes even though all the answers were no, and I was wearing primrose oil.

  “Nigel, are you coming?” Shawn asked with a hint of frustration in his voice.

  “I think he is,” Jerry laughed as he watched Nigel lean into me and sniff again. It wasn’t gross like when Lord Ricky smelled me. When Nigel sniffed, it tickled and made the short hairs on my arms rise.

  Rox gave Jerry a little bump with her hip. They looked so hot together. I could tell how much she loved him because her face softened and her eyebrows relaxed when he was near her.

  Rox took Claire by the hand and together they walked around Jerry’s board, strolling my way. Nigel had redeemed my status when he shifted his interest toward me. Rox spun around and leaned on the wall while Claire stood on my other side.

  “We’ll all meet you at Roy’s,” Rox said.

  “Wanna go?” Nigel asked me.

  Me? Go to Roy’s? Was Nigel McBride asking me to go to Roy’s like I was one of them or something?

  When I looked at Nigel, I thanked Jesus. It had to be Jesus making all of this happen or maybe Mercury wasn’t in retrograde yet. Or maybe it was just my lucky day.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Sucked Over the Lip

  On the corner of Pacific Coast Highway and Entrada Drive LOCALS ONLY was spray painted across the sidewalk. That was the front of Roy’s, a tiny brick shack that used to be a train station before roads were put in. If you didn’t know Roy’s was there, you’d never find it. Except for the dogs. There must have been at least fifteen shepherd mixes lounging on the front steps, baking in the sun, waiting for their masters.

  No one, absolutely no one, got a seat inside without knowing someone. For a girl, walking into Roy’s for the first time was the ultimate introduction into surf society. The equivalent of what the Jonathan Club debutants called “being presented.”

  The sun-flooded restaurant was packed after the morning session. It reeked of cigarette smoke, bacon, and coffee. My stomach was still in a knot, but the food smelled good. How could I be hungry? While struggling to figure out my next move, I remembered the rule:

  Never eat in front of guys.

  “Good morning, ladies,” Roy said from behind the counter. He looked like a big, fat Elvis in an apron. “They’re in the back,” he continued.

  Shawn waved Rox and Claire over to the booth. I followed. Claire took Rox’s hand and started winding her way through the deafening noise of hoots, hollers, and whistles. There must have been fifty guys jammed in that tiny restaurant. All of them were various hues of blonde. Unreal.

  I imagined the tide pulling me out. I let smiles wash over me like the sea. In this surf grotto, guys still had pillowcase creases on their cheeks and uncombed, wet hair. They were all murky and moist, wrapped up in towels and sweatshirts. Some surfers looked cool in plaid jackets two sizes too small, unzipped low-slung cords, Birdie trunks, and visors facing backward. It didn’t matter what they wore. They were all wizards to me.

  Inside the sanctuary, Rox and Claire gazed down at their admirers like the high priestess and empress they were and eased their way to the back of the restaurant. Corky Carroll and his Orange County–Costa Mesa guys gave Claire “the nod.” He raised his cup of coffee and asked Rox, “Is Rincon going off?”

  Was Rincon before San Diego or after Ventura? I couldn’t remember. I had to learn these things. But it was more important at that moment not to frown, fret, or look like a spaz, so I put both my hands behind my back, just above my hips, and held onto the tips of my hair for dear life.

  Rox stopped and thought about the question. She looked at Claire and they whispered to each other. She eventually gave Corky a wink and said, “Yes.”

  The place went bananas. How could I learn to wink like that? I looked at Claire for a clue about what to do next but it was too late. The game was on. She was too busy being Claire. Lord Ricky stood up and announced, “Finish up, lads. We’re heading north.” He pushed his way forward and said, “Corky, this is Nani, David Nuuhiwa’s cousin.”

  Corky Carroll took my hand and kissed it.

  “No hard feelings?” he asked looking into my eyes.

  Assuming he was referring to a rumor that he had snaked “my cousin” David out of a surf championship in Huntington Beach a few years back, I shook my head and said, “It’s cool.”

  Never take on a guy’s fight.

  That rule was a good one. A no-brainer, really. It was dangerous to get in the middle of a surf war, especially between a rock star mainlander and an island bad boy. All I wanted was to make it to the booth where Nigel, Shawn, and Jerry were holding court. A waitress in a pink uniform with DARLENE written on her nametag placed three orders of toast, four plates of pancakes, and two cheese omelets on the table. She had a red beehive hairdo, a round body, and wore too much black eye liner. She was the perfect match to go with Roy.

  After pouring coffee for three other tables, she gave me a little shove with her big hips.

  “If you stand still,” she said, “they’ll eat you alive.”

  Rox and Claire had waltzed through the crowd and landed next to Jerry and Shawn while I was stuck like a deer caught in headlights. Guys were looking at my ass like it was a Hawaiian delicacy of soaked sweet meat.

  Weaving my way through a maze of syrup-drenched fingers trying to touch me, I got a sinking feeling in my gut. It was kind of like the way a surfer must feel before getting sucked over the lip. Inside Roy’s, just like inside a wave, things could go wrong fast.

  There wasn’t room in the booth. I stood there like an idiot wondering where to go. Nigel sat with his back to me in a chair at the head of the table. He ate whole pancakes one at a time and didn’t seem to know I was there. I felt invisible. I said, “I better get going.”

  I was like a surfer who got pulled under a monster wave lost at sea and not knowing which way was up and which way was down. I prayed for enough air to navigate the crowded aisles and make it to the sunlight beyond the door. When I turned to leave, I noticed Rox tap Jerry, Jerry jab Shawn, and Shawn elbow Nigel. Just then, a long arm reached out and pulled me back. Nigel had me on his lap before my feet had ever moved. He grabbed me around the waist, spread his legs, pulled me down, and, without missing a beat, placed half a strip of bacon in my mouth. With his wet trunks nestled around my thighs, my mind raced. What now? I had to think Virgo. First times are my specialty. After all, Virgo means virgin. All I needed to do was stay level and be sweet.

  Nigel rested his arm on the outside of my thigh for the whole restaurant to see. I had just become a full-on citizen of State Beach. No one, not a gargoyle, stupid mother, or BS-ing uncle could stop me now. Like getting a permanent visa, it was a done deal.

  Nigel passed me the last sip of his orange juice, and I drank from the glass as if it was the Holy Grail. The juice burned my raw throat and made me want to gag, but I smiled anyway. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to enjoy orange juice again. Nigel hadn’t actually talked to me yet, but when he reac
hed for the salt, he buried his nose deep into my neck and inhaled just below my earlobe. He pulled me in close and wrapped my hair around his shoulders like a cape. Rox and Claire smiled approvingly as Jerry blurted out to those seated around the table, “Ready?”

  Everyone wiggled out of the tiny booth. I could see Shawn’s reflection in the window as he nudged his brother and made some cryptic comments in the secret language of twins. Nigel turned and smiled at me.

  “Wanna come?” he asked.

  Before I could answer, he took my hand and led me out of Roy’s.

  Entrada Drive was backed up with beach traffic going to State. Suzie’s convertible bug was the last in line at the red light. Jenni rode copilot, and Mary Jo sat in the back. The three of them turned around so fast it looked like they got whiplash when they saw Nigel put his arm around me. We walked right next to her car. At first Suzie smiled. Then it must have dawned on her: Nigel McBride and I were together. She looked away. Both her hands gripped the wheel and Jenni patted her bare shoulder, consoling her. Mary Jo, always the Leo, called out, “Welcome back, Nigel. Where ya heading?”

  Nigel was giving a guy directions and barely responded to her question except for flashing her a quick smile.

  Mary Jo was delighted, but Suzie kept her eyes forward, waiting for the light to change. It was really weird. It looked like she was going to cry or something. At the Chevron Station, a bunch of boys were jumping over curbs and doing handstands on their skateboards. Nigel and I enjoyed the show. These kids were totally radical, mondo cool, like nothing I’d ever seen in Hawaii. In fact, no one skateboarded or hula hooped anymore back home. These boys were outrageous. Each board was like sawed off wood perfectly shaped on clay wheels. Their cutback moves and hand turns were fearless as they plowed through broken glass in bare feet.

  “Go back to Revere,” Jerry scolded one of the boys. The kid flipped him off and kept skating.

  “Paul Revere is the local junior high school,” Nigel told me.

  Jerry returned the finger and smiled. The boys and him seemed to have an understanding.

  “Aren’t they cute?” Jerry asked me.

  Shawn and Nigel were putting their boards into a baby blue VW van parked in the NO PARKING zone with several other vans at the gas station.

  “This is the VIP spot,” Shawn told me. He hopped into the back of the van. It looked dark and mysterious. There was a thin mattress with more boards stacked around it. Wet suits hung on wire hangers and towels were tossed everywhere. Nigel was clearing off the front seat, tossing empty beer bottles into a rusted trash can. Rox talked to Claire in her hush-hush voice as the bottles hit the bottom of the can and clanked loudly.

  “What are we going to tell Suzie?” Claire asked.

  Rox looked slightly annoyed with the question. She said, “Nigel made the choice, we’re neutral.” She waved at Suzie, who was finally turning onto PCH, letting the tears fall as she downshifted.

  Shawn handed Claire his board while he arranged the others in the back of the van. Holding his surfboard was an honor only she got. Rox on the other hand, stood with her shirt blowing open, making cars screech to a stop on the highway, enjoying every near wreck.

  “Why’s Suzie crying?” I asked.

  Claire looked me straight in the eyes.

  She said, “Suzie did it with Nigel before he went to Ensenada. She was kind of hoping they’d get together when he got back. But,” she beamed, “looks like he changed his mind.”

  Duh, I thought to myself, Nigel was Suzie’s secret guy. Shawn sailed past us into the back of the van. He made himself comfortable on half of the bed. Claire followed. Jerry and Rox took the other half of the foam mattress. There was a rule, a very, very important rule, that I had just accidentally broken.

  Never snag another girl’s boyfriend.

  Rox leaned forward before she slammed the back door shut.

  She said, “Don’t worry about it. He wasn’t hers. They weren’t totally together. Just get in the van.”

  Like she could read my mind or something.

  Nigel was holding the passenger door open for me.

  “Let’s go,” he said. He held my hand as I stepped up into the front seat like I was stepping onto a throne.

  I was blown away but still worrying. It was eight forty-five. I had to be home at nine fifteen to checkin with Jean.

  “Hey, McBride,” Lord Ricky sang out. “Going to Rincon? Got rooma for meya?”

  Lord Ricky leaned in through the passenger window. We both sort of jumped back when we saw each other. It was the first time I got to see him up close when he wasn’t yelling. If it weren’t for those accidents that left him with a scar across his lip and a gash down his cheek, he’d definitely have a really nice face. I could tell he was probably cute once upon a time, maybe about three windshields ago. Nigel signaled for him to get in the back of the van.

  Rox and Claire giggled as he squeezed between them and rocked the van up and down. Nigel cranked up the radio, putting all the sound into the back. Lord Ricky reached behind my ear and pulled out the “get out of jail free” card from Monopoly.

  “Magic,” he said.

  I love magic and tricks.

  “You might need this,” Lord Ricky said and flicked the card into Nigel’s lap. Nigel flinched and stuck the card into the glove compartment. He grabbed my knee and held it tight before shifting the van into reverse.

  Lord Ricky dipped below the curtains that divided the front seat from the back. When he totally disappeared, he made an exaggerated sneeze, “Jailbait.”

  Nigel looked in the rearview mirror. “Shut up, Rick,” he said.

  For one second, I was happy. Then I wasn’t. Did he know I was only fifteen? And I remembered Rincon was by Santa Barbara, almost two hours north of State. How the hell was I going to get home in time?

  I turned up the radio. Van Morrison was singing “Tupelo Honey.” I prayed that no one in the back would hear me.

  “Hey, Nigel,” I said, “Uh, I can’t go.”

  Now I had to come up with a reason that he would understand and still want to see me again. It had to be something that would get his sympathy but not freak him out. It also had to be a one-time only excuse.

  “Why?” he asked, yanking the parking brake up.

  “It’s my dad’s obituary. I have to read it to my mom.”

  Nigel looked away.

  “She didn’t see it before she left for St. John’s,” I said, struggling to sound believable.

  “Is she sick, too?” he asked.

  “No, she’s fine. She works there. It’s just she couldn’t bring herself to see it before we left Hawaii, and I promised her I’d read it to her when she was ready.”

  “I didn’t know,” he said and leaned his forehead on the steering wheel. Little pink patches appeared on Nigel’s skin. He looked like he was upset.

  All of a sudden everything changed. I was comforting him. Nigel felt soft as he put his head on my shoulder and said, “I’m so sorry about your dad, Nani.”

  Nigel McBride was only the second person that had ever said those comforting words to me and actually meant it. Back home, people said them to Jean all the time, but nobody ever said them to me except Annie. I was the poor hapa haole who only got sad looks. Well, I wished they could see me now. Here I was in the arms of Nigel McBride, the coolest guy in California.

  We sat in silence and Nigel kept holding me. We were so close, it felt like we had melted into one. It had been so long since I’d felt the comfort of strong arms. It made me think of my dad.

  “Hi,” Jerry said, looking like a puppet as he stuck just his head out from under the curtains. His lips were so close to mine I could smell traces of Rox’s Sen-Sens breath fresheners on them. I could also see something about him that I hadn’t noticed before. His eyes were slanted up slightly. He looked more mixed than I did and he had stubble on his chin.

  “Are we going soon?” he asked matter-of-factly.

  Jerry’s voice was smo
oth like a slide guitar. Annie Iopa had made surfers out to be impatient or Lord Ricky–types who just wanted to ride waves and get blown. But these guys were different. Could it be the Jesus factor? If it was, I really owed the “Stick God” one. That’s what my dad used to call Jesus because he was almost always mounted on wood.

  “After we take Nani home,” Nigel told everybody else listening in the van.

  It was unheard of for a surfer to make a detour when there were waves. Nigel didn’t know where I lived, but it didn’t seem to matter. He was taking me home even if it was out of the way.

  “33 Sage, down just a few blocks,” I said.

  Rox and Claire didn’t question the change of plans, but Jerry was clearly stoked to hear I lived close by. Lord Ricky lit up a joint. I passed it to Nigel as he pushed in a Jethro Tull eight-track. Before “Aqualung” finished, I was home.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Sucked 2

  For the first time in my life, I felt like a normal girl. Nigel McBride was a perfect slice of American cheese. The Lisas had told me all about his parents who were at the top of a group called the Fortune 500. That meant they were rich. I didn’t really care about money, but I knew it was better to have it than not.

  Mr. McBride was a big Nixon supporter. He and Mrs. McBride had five other grown children from their long, bad marriage. The Lisas told me Mrs. McBride always wore her Kappa Alpha Theta pin and her sparkly diamond necklace that was a Betty Ross Award she got for being the Outstanding Republican Woman of 1970. Rumor had it that, in the world of politics, she was even more powerful than Mr. McBride.

  In one morning, I had found the cure for all my troubles. Nigel made me forget about Playboy Bunnies, Barbarella, Rox, and Claire and all the awful news Jean forced me to watch, like students getting killed at Kent State and Vietnamese kids drenched in napalm running naked. In the blink of an eye, I was no longer crying over the sale of the Java Jones or the death of my dad. Hawaii didn’t even seem to matter so much anymore. Everything bad or sad went away, and just like that, I was okay. I wasn’t a Funny Kine after all. I liked boys. I liked them full-on, totally and for sure. I was normal, and I’d never be alone.