Finding out that Santa Claus was his uncle Murray had been a bit of a shock.
Finding out all Santa’s gifts came from Macy’s and FAO Schwarz instead of a magical workshop had hit pretty hard too. It had actually hurt that it was all bought at a store and not brought by a magical elf because Jolly Old Saint Nick had somehow known he was a good boy.
Chandler had gotten over it, just like every other boy and girl in the world. But something had been planted in his subconscious. Something that had taken root and grown into something like the twisted and gnarled tree outside Pono Towers.
That as long as you had money, you could do anything you wanted.
Well, all that money wasn’t going to make him head up the big family gala this year. And just let his mother try and make him do what she wanted him to do this time! He challenged her to even find him. He’d taken plenty of precautions to make this one of his best disappearing acts ever. He’d even left his phone behind. The only one Chandler had with him was a cheap flip-top. Him! Imagine! With a flip-top phone.
He was probably going to get something better, though. How would he look up things on the Internet? He could no more live without the Internet than he could oxygen.
Tim had ordered him a laptop. All Chandler had brought was his external hard drive. He wasn’t taking any chances that he would be tracked down. He knew the miracles that Tim could work. Who knew what his mother could do with the Buckingham fortune? Ruin politicians for sure. Order snow for Chelsey maybe. Find him? Why, it could be child’s play.
Which was why he was here. Not an exclusive resort. No penthouse. No rich man’s condominium.
Tim had stressed that when he put this whole thing together.
“Remember you’re lying low, Chandler. No swimming in public fountains or anything else crazy, okay? I picked somewhere your mom would never think to look. So don’t go thinking you’ll be lounging around at Diamond Head or the Coral Strand or the Tahitienne or 3003 Kalakaua, okay? Simple. Quiet. Discreet.”
Simple. No prestigious building with only two or three apartments per floor? No exclusive oceanfront residence? Could he do it?
But as Chandler walked closer to the building—Pono Towers had an interesting sound to it—his heart was practically skipping beats. A new adventure. A new day. A new name. Tim had made that happen too. And so fucking fast! Fake driver’s license. Chandler wouldn’t have even been able to get on the plane without that, and he had to make sure he couldn’t be traced. A new bank account—one Tim had clearly told him not to spend a dime of until he gave the all clear. A wad of cash in his pocket that even he wouldn’t have normally dared carry—but it meant not spending any of that in his new secret bank account. Because even it might be traced.
Exciting! Like something out of a spy movie. It was like he’d been relocated and put under government protection. What fantasy could he come up with? Chandler felt the desire to build up something elaborate. A whole story for himself. And a whole new background.
He’d witnessed a murder. Several. Maybe a hit. Yes! He’d fingered a top mob figure. So now he had to lie low, even though he was far from home, far from where anyone would think to look for him.
Hawaii! Paradise.
How with all his travels had he never been to Hawaii?
He was standing at the foot of the building now, and he looked up and smiled and imagined lounging on one of those balconies high above and looking out over the ocean and the white beaches. He’d seen those through the plane windows flying in, of course—even though he’d been sitting in the middle—and even with all he’d seen in his life, he wasn’t immune or jaded by their beauty. He couldn’t wait.
Chandler entered the main doors of the building, which led to a spacious lobby filled with tropical plants.
Where he was surprised to see a huge Christmas tree.
Well, shit.
And what should he hear? Why, piped-in Christmas carols. Inevitably.
“It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.”
Fucking kidding me?
Double shit.
Not that it should have been a surprise. Christmas was right around the corner. But somehow the sun and ocean and heat and palm trees had allowed him to forget.
Had he forgotten that Christmas was celebrated all over the world?
At least it was a nice tree. Real. Not some commercial nightmare. In fact, on examination, he saw there were a lot of ornaments that had to have been made by kids. Residents of the building?
He found the manager’s office, its door wide open. Inside was an older man, sitting behind a desk, typing away on a computer keyboard.
An attractive young woman with a lovely golden brown complexion noticed Chandler and smiled. “E komo mai!” she said.
Chandler looked at her in surprise. E koko what? “Excuse me?”
“Welcome to Pono Towers! How may I help you?”
“Well, ah. I’m moving in today. I’m supposed to get my key.” He found he almost sounded like he was asking a question instead of telling her why he was here.
The older man behind the desk perked up immediately, sprang from his seat, and with an “I’ve got this, Launa” practically knocked the young woman out of the way. “Welcome! And aloha to you!”
Chandler smiled. He couldn’t help it. People here really did say that. “Aloha,” he responded.
“So, you’re moving in today?” asked the man. “I’m Todd Bates, the building manager. And you are Mr. Buck Chandler, right?”
Chandler almost corrected him and then quite suddenly remembered that was his name. At least for now. “That’s me.”
“We’ve been expecting you.” Bates returned to his desk and, after checking Chandler’s (Buck’s?) ID, pulled a few items from a drawer. “This is your room key,” he said, handing it over. “And this is your welcome packet that explains all of the history and features here at Pono Towers.” He gave that to Chandler as well.
Chandler took the key and looked at it. The number 405 was written on a small paper tab. “Room 405?” he asked.
“Yes. It’s a lovely room with a great view of the pool and mountains from your window.”
Chandler looked back down at the tab, realization hitting him. “Room 405 as in the fourth floor?” Great view of the pool?
“Yes, that’s right.”
Well, fuck, Chandler thought, visions of looking out over the ocean gone. Fourth floor? Tim! What the hell were you thinking?
Bates chatted inanely for a moment, and Chandler found he wasn’t hearing a word of what the odd little man was saying. He just kept thinking about how very much he’d wanted that view of the ocean. Well, he thought, I’ll just have to settle for a view of the pool.
After that, Bates directed him back to the lobby and the elevator banks and then once more gave him a cheery “aloha” before turning on his heel like a soldier and heading back to his office.
He went to the elevator banks. It was all quite pretty with the halls painted dark rose and sand, the three-dimensional artwork, the plants (always the plants; he didn’t think he would ever get tired of the plants), and the large stylized P and T for Pono Towers painted on the wall.
Chandler tried not to let the whole fourth-floor thing get to him.
Damn Tim.
Lying low didn’t mean being bored to death!
He pressed the elevator button and a moment later was greeted by a bright “ding!” as the middle doors opened. Chandler hesitated—as usual—but only for a moment and went inside. The door whisked shut, and there was a jolt—his heart froze—and a shudder, but then to his relief, the closed-in box started its ascent.
Chandler was just trying to imagine what he could see from his fourth-floor room when the elevator came to a sudden grinding halt.
It was all he could do not to scream.
No! No, no, no!
It was his worst nightmare come true.
SEVEN
AROUND NOON, the four other maintenance workers went
to the outdoor tool shack to eat lunch and smoke their lungs out. Micah could see clouds billowing from far away, like little smoke signals telling him it was lunchtime. Micah hated the smoke and opted to go upstairs to his own place for lunch—even if that meant more leftovers from Auntie’s Kitchen.
Today, though, he was more tired than hungry and made a beeline for the bed. He flopped onto it and buried his face in the pillows. A half-hour nap would be enough to get rid of the fatigue. He set the alarm on his clock, stripped off his uncomfortable clothes, and let his body bathe in the sunshine and cool breeze from his window.
“Hello? Micah?”
Micah was jolted awake by a voice coming from his walkie-talkie. He looked at the clock and kicked himself for forgetting to turn the walkie-talkie off. He had only been asleep for maybe ten minutes.
“This is Micah,” he said lethargically. He slapped himself lightly to wake up.
“Micah, it’s Launa.”
Of course it was.
“We’ve got a little emergency.”
Emergency? He sat bolt upright.
“What emergency?”
“We’ve got someone stuck in elevator B.”
It figured it would be that one, the one that had jolted earlier that morning.
“I’m on it,” he said. And Micah had no sooner opened his apartment door when he heard a muffled shouting.
It was coming from the elevators, the middle one to be exact.
Micah strode to the elevator. He knew personally how unnerving it could be to be stuck in one of them.
“I can hear you,” he shouted back. “Just hold tight!”
Micah took out his large ring of keys. It looked like it belonged to a prison warden. He flipped through them before finding the distinctive one for the emergency release for the elevator. With a simple twist, the doors opened, and he saw the car was stuck halfway between floors four and five, with only the man’s feet visible. In what looked like very expensive shoes.
The man crouched down, and his face came into view. He was pale, maybe late twenties (about the same age as Micah), and he was a redhead, with a short, neatly trimmed beard that was a fierier color than his hair. Just Micah’s type.
Very cute. But Micah quickly pushed the thought out of his mind.
“Can you get me the fuck out of here?” The man’s voice was halfway between tears and panic.
“I’ll help you down,” said Micah. “No worries.”
“Okay.” The man’s voice was quivering. “Please hurry.”
“Lay down on the floor and get as low as you can,” Micah told him. “Then push yourself out. I’ll grab you.”
“You want me to wiggle through there?” he exclaimed, blue eyes wide.
“Yes. It’s not that far of a drop. I got you.”
“But what if it fucking moves? I’ll be chopped in half!”
Micah shook his head gently. “No. The elevator automatically locks down. It won’t move unless somebody moves it. Trust me.”
“How do you know somebody won’t move it?” The man’s voice was shaking even more.
“Only an elevator repairman would be able to do that,” said Micah. “I don’t even have the ability to move it if I wanted to.”
The man trembled again, then eyed the small space intently. “Y-you’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” Micah kept his voice full of confidence, assuring the obviously frightened man. “Get on your tummy. Scoot yourself through, and I’ll catch you.”
The man eyed the area one more time and then took a deep breath. “I just hope I can get through there. It looks awfully small.”
“You’ve got plenty of room.”
Then, as if responding to Micah’s confidence, the man did as he was told. Got down flat on his stomach and then turned so that his lower half came through first, his khaki pants cinching up and revealing legs with bright red hair. Micah grabbed hold of his thighs, trying not to stare at the man’s butt. This was a serious matter. He needed to stop checking the guy out.
He was just so damned cute.
And Micah liked the feel of the man’s legs.
And the hair.
Stop it!
The man came out farther until he was practically sitting on Micah’s shoulder. Micah braced himself and crouched, allowing the man to plant both feet on the floor. It was only as he stood up, his hands grazing up the man’s tight body, that he realized how drenched the guy was. Drenched in sweat!
He had been really scared.
The man turned around, and Micah found himself staring into his blue eyes. For the longest time, neither moved.
Then, shaking himself, the man pulled back.
“I didn’t get chopped in half.”
Micah gave a light chuckle. “No, you didn’t. Careful there!” Micah grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him away from the open shaft. “You don’t want to fall down there.” No good to get him out of the elevator only to have him take a plunge!
“Christ!” The redhead practically leaped into his arms and then, realizing what he was doing, stepped to the side.
Meanwhile, Micah disengaged the emergency release on the elevator and the doors closed. When he turned back, he saw the man was still trembling.
“Does that happen often?”
“Not that often,” said Micah. “But, it does happen enough. I’ve told our building manager about it I don’t know how many times. Nothing gets done.”
A deadly flash came to the man’s eyes. “Maybe someone else needs to say something!”
“Be my guest.” Micah could only imagine what the man would say to Todd Bates.
“Guess I won’t be taking that thing,” the man said, pointing at the elevator. “Thank God I’m only on the fourth floor. What frigging floor are we on by the way?”
“The fourth,” Micah said.
“Oh! Good.” He looked up and down the hallway, then held up his key. “Can you tell me where apartment 405 is?”
Micah looked at the number on the key. “Oh. It’s right over there.” He pointed. “Just across from my apartment.”
“You live here?” The look on the man’s face was total surprise.
“I do,” said Micah. “It’s a short commute to work.”
The man looked at him in confusion for a moment and then quite suddenly burst into laughter. He actually had to lean against the wall (he was careful to avoid the elevator doors, Micah noted).
When the man looked up, Micah could see some color coming to his face. “Thanks. I needed that.”
“No worries. Part of the service. Oh, and since we’re going to be neighbors—” He held out his hand. “—I’m Micah Keolu. Welcome to Pono Towers.”
“And I’m Chandler Buck—I’m… I mean….” He gave a little uncomfortable sounding laugh. “Call me Buck. Chandler is my last name.”
“Nice to meet you, Buck.” Micah flashed him a smile. “Where are you originally from?”
“Kansas C…. Kansas. I’m from Kansas.”
“Ah, where Dorothy and Toto live, right?”
Buck sighed. “Yes. Except there’s a lot more than there used to be. You might be surprised.”
“I wouldn’t really know. I’ve never been to Kansas. Or the mainland for that matter.”
Buck’s blue eyes went wide. “Really?” he asked in a more surprised tone than Micah thought warranted. At least he hadn’t asked about the bridge to the next island yet.
“I can’t imagine that. You’ve never left at all? Ever?”
“Never,” Micah replied. “It’s not like driving over a state line.”
“I guess not.” Buck nodded. Buck. He didn’t seem like a Buck. The name didn’t fit the man. It was too country, and this man looked more sophisticated and not like some cowboy from Texas.
“Well, look,” Buck said. “I might as well get a look at my new place. See what it’s like.”
“Eh?” Micah said in surprise. “You haven’t seen your own place yet?”
“I… got i
t through the Internet,” Buck said.
“You got an apartment through the Internet but didn’t see it in person first?” Micah was more confused.
“Well, it’s not like I could drive over ‘the state line’ and peek at it first.” Was that a look of amusement or irritation on his face?
“I guess not,” Micah said with a smile. “Is this your first time to Hawaii?”
Buck nodded. “It is.”
“Well, after you get settled in, I’ll have to give you a grand tour of the building.”
One of Buck’s bright red eyebrows shot up, and now he was smiling. “Really? I’d like that.”
“Sure thing,” said Micah. “And if there’s anything you wanted to see in Hawaii, let me know and I’ll help you out.”
“Wow.” Buck grinned. “What service.”
“You get settled in your place, and then I’ll show you around the grounds.”
With a smile and a nod, Micah led Buck the short distance down the hall and stopped at his place. Buck fit his key into the lock and turned the knob. At his gentle push, the door swung open.
And then Buck’s mouth dropped open in an expression of complete and total shock.
“Oh my fucking God.”
“What is it?” Micah asked, concerned. He stepped up beside Buck and looked into the room. “What’s wrong?”
“Is this it?” Buck looked at his key, studied it, looked at the number on the door, and finally back in the apartment.
“Yeah, this is the one. Is there something wrong?”
“Jesus Christ! My office is bigger than this.”
Micah’s eyes widened at that comment. Office? “Your office?”
Buck turned quickly and looked up at Micah. “W-well….” He laughed. “Not my own personal office. I mean the office I worked out of. In Kansas.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do?”
“Do?”
“Your job in Kansas.”
“Oh.” He looked back into the apartment, obviously still shocked. “Well. Whatever I’m told to do,” he said with a long sigh.
“Sorry,” said Micah. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
Buck shook his head slowly. “No. Don’t be.” He looked back at Micah. “I’m sorry. I think I need to be alone for a bit. Take this all in.”
Mele Kalikimaka Page 3