Mele Kalikimaka

by Noah Willoughby

  Micah nodded. “All right. If you need anything, I’m right there.” Micah pointed to his own apartment.

  “Sure,” Buck said quietly.

  Then entered his apartment.

  And shut the door.

  Leaving Micah alone in the hall.

  Then it suddenly hit him. He looked at his watch. Shit! He’d just worked through his break and hadn’t gotten the rest he so needed.

  Well, at least he didn’t have to work at Auntie’s Kitchen tonight.

  Might as well return to his list of tasks.

  Thing was, he couldn’t stop thinking about the new tenant.

  He wondered if Buck drank wine.

  EIGHT

  IT WAS ugly.

  Not just small.

  The apartment was ugly.

  Or maybe it was ugly because it was small?

  No. It was ugly. Dirty even. The walls were… why, almost gray.

  Chandler went to the center of the room and tried to take in the shock of it all. It really was pretty much just one room. It really was smaller than his office. People lived in such little places? It was almost more than he could take in. Like something out of an apocalyptic science fiction movie where there was only so much room left for mankind and the survivors had to live in tiny little spaces.

  Except this was real.

  A tiny kitchen—and that was an all-new definition of the word small—was almost its own room, if you could call it that. It consisted of a couple of cabinets, one set of drawers, a tiny stove and refrigerator, and… good God, a stacked washer and dryer. In the kitchen! He was supposed to do his laundry in the kitchen?

  Where did he sit down to eat? How would he cook in here? The counter was infinitesimal. Christ!

  He would kill Tim.

  Kill him. And decrease the surplus population!

  At least the bathroom was its own room. He wasn’t going to have to bathe in the living room, such as it was.

  But the most surprising thing of all was that there wasn’t any furniture. Not a stick. Not a folding chair. Not a card table. There wasn’t so much as a blow-up air mattress. What the hell was he supposed to do?

  Then he realized something else.

  Walking to the nearly floor-to-ceiling windows, he saw that there was no balcony.

  Another “last straw” in his life!

  Quite suddenly his new adventure didn’t seem nearly as exciting.

  Right then there was a knock on his door. Who could that be? Two steps and he was there, opening it and seeing—to his surprise—the lovely lady from downstairs. She was holding a package. “This came for you earlier, Mr. Chandler.”

  From the size he could guess what it was. The laptop.

  Please have it be the laptop!

  He thanked her and sent her on her way and a moment later found out that was exactly what it was. Thank God. This would take a few hours.

  But then in the meantime, where the hell was he supposed to sit? Too bad he hadn’t thought to ask the young lady if he could borrow a chair. Or ask where he could go to get one.

  Then it occurred to him.

  Micah.

  Micah might have time to help him get a little furniture.

  The thought of seeing him made Chandler smile. Very handsome, big, broad-shouldered, and from what he could see through the bright, garish Hawaiian shirt, very muscular. Exactly Chandler’s type. Maybe they could do a little more than go shopping. Because a hot man and a great orgasm or ten always helped. Not that Micah had given him the slightest indication he was gay.

  Of course, Micah was working right now. In the meantime, he would just have to sit on the floor. So that was just what he did. He got down on the floor—his mother would die—and began the process of setting up his new computer. It was one thing he knew how to do.

  He nearly jumped out of his skin when there was another knock on his door. Chandler stood, opened it, and to his surprise, there stood Micah. And he had Chandler’s bag. Christ! He’d forgotten all about it.

  “This yours?” Micah asked. “The elevator repairman found it.”

  “Yes!” cried Chandler, feeling like a total idiot. How had he ever forgotten it?

  Because you never have to worry about shit like that, that’s why, he scolded himself. And it was true. People carried bags for him. He tipped baggage men to do such things.

  But that was when he noticed Micah had something else. He was holding a bottle of wine. His eyes lit up. “Oh! How nice. Is that for me?”

  “I thought I would bring this over as kind of a ‘welcome to the building’ gift,” said Micah with a big smile.

  Chandler found himself grinning back. “Thank you. You do that for everyone who moves in?”

  “Only the really cute ones.”

  The comment startled Chandler, and he blushed and tried to remember when he’d done that last. Cute? Micah thought he was cute? Did that mean the man was gay? “Why… ah… thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.” You’re not so bad yourself? Had he really said that?

  Micah waved it off, blushing himself. Which Chandler found sexy on a big man like Micah. “Aw, that’s sweet of you.”

  Chandler held the bottle up. “I’d offer to open it right now, but I don’t have a corkscrew. In fact, I don’t have shit. I can’t even offer you a place to sit down.”

  “No worries,” said Micah. “We can go to my place.”

  Oh. This was interesting. Micah was inviting him to his place.

  That sounded nice. Really nice. And certainly better than sitting on the floor in an empty apartment.

  Wait! Furniture!

  “Can we wait on the wine? To tell you the truth, I was wondering if you could help a guy out. I need to take a little trip to a local store or two. At least get me a card table—”

  A card table. Imagine! Him using a card table. He hadn’t used one in college.

  “—and a few chairs. Some dishes. I don’t want to take up your whole afternoon or anything. I guess you just got off work. But it would be really helpful. I’ll get us dinner.”

  “I’d be happy to help you out.” Micah was beaming. “There’s a few secondhand stores where you can get some chairs and probably a nice little table and some plates and silverware.”

  Secondhand store? Really? Chandler had been to about a zillion antique stores in his life, but never a “secondhand” store!

  “And they’re not too far from this restaurant that serves the best seared ahi. If you want to try Hawaiian food for the first time, that’s the place to go.”

  Chandler had no frigging clue what “ahi” was, but quite suddenly he found he didn’t care. What he wanted to do was spend time with this man. This man who had rescued him from an elevator and now was offering him some company. Funny that only a couple of hours ago he’d been thinking about how he was glad to be away from everyone, and now the last thing he wanted was to be alone.

  Especially when it meant that Micah would be his company.

  After a bottle of wine, who knew what might happen next?

  NINE

  MICAH DIDN’T have a vehicle to call his own, save for his bike that he used to go to and from the restaurant and grocery stores. After all, most things on Oahu weren’t too far from each other. At least the things he really needed. And what he really needed to do was get his feet well and truly under him. A car could wait. But hauling a bunch of furniture on a bike wasn’t in the cards.

  Pono Towers had a maintenance truck, mainly used for hauling grounds tools and plants and for deliveries. For the most part, the beat-up old pickup sat outside of the maintenance shed.

  Micah wasn’t against borrowing the truck once in a while for a quick trip up to North Shore for surfing or to Hanauma Bay for snorkeling. It was a perk of the job, and it was one thing Bates kept his mouth shut about, even though it went against the official “Pono rules.” Micah had kept the truck running the last couple of years. Plus, who would miss it? Bates probably wasn’t even aware when he used the maintenanc
e truck in the first place, and the other guys had no use for it today.

  Using the truck to help a tenant wasn’t that unusual. And it was certainly part of that “aloha spirit” Bates went on and on about. And Micah didn’t mind doing it. He practically jumped at the chance to do it for Buck.

  Buck? Really?

  God, the little guy just didn’t seem like a “Buck.” Was that his name or a nickname, and how did he ever get it in the first place? Micah found himself wanting to know. Found himself wanting to know all kinds of things about the guy. How long had it been since he’d been curious about a man? And it wasn’t like Buck was really that little. Not at five nine. That was about average. It’s just being so tall himself, having hit six foot as a senior in high school and grown a few inches after that, he thought of a lot of men as little.

  And there was the fact that Buck seemed a little… jumpy. Fidgeting. Eyes shifting.

  The way he was acting as they drove to the first secondhand store. At first Micah thought he was just trying to take in views he certainly couldn’t be used to seeing in Kansas.

  But it looked more like Buck wasn’t comfortable in the truck.

  “Are you all right?” Micah asked.

  “Sure,” said Buck. “Kind of a bumpy ride.”

  “Yeah, this old truck has been hanging in there.” Micah knocked on the dashboard. “Every time something happens to it, I fix it up.”

  “What’s happened to it?” Buck’s eyes did that shifting thing.

  “It’s broken down more than a few times,” Micah said, and Buck looked at him in—what? He couldn’t read the expression.

  Then it hit him.

  Shit!

  Buck had been stranded in that elevator. It must’ve been awful, especially on his first moments in his new home. Like some kind of omen of things to come. And here Micah was, jabbering about the reliability of the truck they were using.

  Micah needed to get Buck’s mind off of it.

  Luckily he had that ability naturally. They were cruising up the freeway, and just then they topped a hill and the ocean came into view, complete with a beautiful orange sunset.

  “Wow,” Buck said, a look of wonder on his face. It was nice. Made him look even sweeter. Like a big kid.

  “That’s Pearl Harbor,” Micah said and pointed to the horizon. “There it is!”

  “Really?” Buck said, voice full of awe. “I didn’t have any idea it was around here.”

  Micah couldn’t help but smile. It was something Micah could see every day, but seeing Buck’s reaction to it made him appreciate its beauty. Because sad history or not, the harbor was gorgeous. Especially at sunset.

  And especially when he was with a cute guy like Buck.

  They arrived at the secondhand store, Saver’s Hale, which Micah frequented to get a good bargain on clothes, shoes, and kitchenware. Furniture was there to be had, but finding a good piece required a stroke of luck because all of the bargain-hunting aunties got there early to snatch them up.

  The shop had tight aisles with racks of clothes and shelves of household items. Micah marched through the main aisle with Buck following close behind. He knew exactly where the furniture section was. It had everything from chairs to couches to bed frames to end tables.

  But then he realized that Buck had lagged behind. Was examining… Hawaiian shirts. Holding them up, putting them back. He looked up when Micah approached.

  “I thought I might find something Hawaiian, right? When in Rome? What do you think of this one?” He held one up against his chest. It was bright blue on the top and bottom with a wide strip along the middle with a painted scene of palm trees and old vans and cars parked along a shore.

  “It’s not Roman,” Micah said. “Locals would never wear anything so flashy.”

  Buck’s face fell. “But your work shirt is a lot brighter than this.”

  Gosh. Had he hurt Buck’s feelings? “That’s because we cater to a lot of tourists,” he explained. “And ’cause Mr. Bates has bad taste.”

  Buck burst into laughter. “It is pretty awful,” he said. He put the shirt back.

  Micah saw something among all the bright colors and pulled it out. Oh yes. Much better. Mostly white with pale bands of sky blue and soft orange. And yes, some palm trees—but small and understated. He held it out.

  “I like this one. What do you think?”

  Buck gave it a long look. “You think?”

  Micah held it against Buck’s chest, inadvertently touching it. “Ah.” He swallowed. “I like it a lot. Goes with your hair too. The other one clashed.”

  Buck rolled his eyes. “You’d be surprised how much clashes with red hair.”

  Micah really didn’t know. Almost everything went with his own dark hair. At least that’s what his mom said when he was growing up. “This one makes you look like a native.”

  “Really?” Buck laughed. “Are there a lot of redheads in Hawaii?”

  “Well, not truly native. Not by blood. But this one doesn’t make you look like a tourist. Tourists always pick the very brightest colors.”

  “Anything wrong with looking like a tourist?” Buck asked.

  Micah shrugged. “It makes you stand out….” Not like Buck didn’t stand out anyway with that ginger hair and adorable face.

  But with those words Buck’s expression changed once again. “Standing out isn’t exactly what I’m wanting to do. I’ll take it.”

  Micah nodded and then led him to the furniture. At first glance the pieces looked perfectly fine. Until Micah tried out a chair that squeaked horribly when he sat on it (and with what felt like a spring poking him in the ass) and the table only looked nice until they saw it had a loose, wobbly leg and would collapse if any kind of weight was put on it.

  Buck looked like a lost child.

  “You see anything you like?” Micah asked.

  “I don’t know,” Buck said. “I’ve never been in a place like this.”

  “You’ve never been to a secondhand store?” Micah was confused. Didn’t they have secondhand stores in Kansas?

  “Well, I’ve been to antique stores. My mom loves them, and she kind of gave me the bug.”

  “There are hardly any antiques here,” said Micah with a laugh. “Except maybe the clientele.” And Micah pointed to the old ladies darting in and out of the aisles.

  Buck laughed. It was a cute laugh, and Micah was happy to see him more relaxed.

  Then they hit a stroke of luck as Micah lifted a blanket and revealed a piece with familiar, beautiful deep reddish-orange wood.

  He gasped at the sight of the simple chair with the dark wave pattern running through the wood. “Wow.”

  “What?” Buck asked.

  “This is your new chair,” Micah said. “Perfect for a sophisticated man like yourself.”

  “You think?”

  “Absolutely,” Micah said, still looking over the chair in awe. He kept the blanket partially covering it, hiding it from other shoppers. “This is koa. It’s a Hawaiian wood that’s used in furniture and sometimes for ukuleles.” Micah pronounced it the correct way—oo-koo-lay-lays.

  “Too bad there isn’t another one,” said Buck.

  “Then it wouldn’t be as special. And believe me, this is special. You have to get it.”

  Buck looked it over. Seemed to focus on an insignificant scratch overly long. “If you think so.”

  “Buck,” he said quietly. “Yes. I think so. I know so.”

  “I do like the color. And the grain is nice.” He looked up. “Okay. Sold. Now what about a table?”

  TEN

  “SEARED AHI” turned out to be a type of tuna, a highly prized fish caught off the shores of the Big Island. This particular portion was crusted with black and white sesame seeds, sliced to reveal that deep red color, and served with a miso dipping sauce.

  “Dear Christ, this is wonderful,” Chandler cried. The grain, the texture, the flavor. Absolutely incredible. “Thanks for bringing us here, Micah.”

>   “I thought a guy like you deserved a special meal.”

  Chandler blushed again. Laughed. He suddenly felt like he was about fourteen, when he was first flirting with boys and trying to figure out how that worked.

  “I guess you’re gay?” Chandler asked. Please be gay.

  Micah winked at him and flashed a smile. “You assume correctly.”

  “Thank God.”

  Micah chuckled. Chandler’s heart skipped a beat—just like in high school. Micah was staring.

  “And you’re flirting with me?”

  “I am.”

  Chandler grinned. “Good.”

  The waitress came by and asked if they wanted more wine. Chandler certainly did. It was a nice rosé, which he hadn’t really suspected would be paired with tuna, but the waitress had recommended it. It was called Chateau Barbanau’s Rosé Provençal L’Instant. Complex and very dry, it had a smoked-salmon-colored hue, fruity floral aromas, and lovely melon and strawberry notes that turned out to be perfect.

  “Micah?” he asked, gesturing to the bottle while she poured his own.

  “Why not? I can drive on two glasses.”

  Chandler’s eyes flashed. “We still have a bottle waiting at home.”

  Home. The word made his stomach flutter delightfully, despite the fact that “home” had turned out to be so small and plain and without a balcony or ocean view.

  “We sure do.” The look in Micah’s eyes. Chandler could practically feel them undressing him. Would his hands do the job later? Was sex in the cards tonight? Chandler hoped so. There was nothing like getting laid by a hot man to make problems go away. At least temporarily. Of course, he didn’t have a bed. Shit. Why hadn’t he thought of that while they were out? Where was he going to sleep?

  Still, if Micah was offering more than flirting and a bottle of wine, that problem could be solved by sleeping at his place tonight.

  God, he was going to kill Tim! Fourth floor. Studio apartment. No view of the beach. In fact, from what he’d seen from their drive, “We’re not even near the beach, are we?”