Death of the Big Kahuna

by Catherine Bruns

  There had been a text on my phone from Brad earlier. Two words—Miss you. Yes, that was Brad's best attempt at an apology. He could be genuinely sweet and affectionate at times, but his communication skills did leave a bit to be desired.

  Keanu grabbed some silverware packets from under the counter. "You guys must be serious if you followed him out here?" It was in the form of a question, not a statement.

  "We've been dating for almost a year." I realized I hadn't given him an answer but chose not to elaborate. Instead, I changed the subject. "How about you? Do you have a girlfriend?"

  Before he could respond, the door of the café opened, and two elderly women entered and walked in our direction, nodding politely at us. They were both slender with gray hair. The shorter one wore hers in a tight curly bob, while the other woman's hair extended past her shoulders and was almost as long as mine. They were dressed in slacks and short-sleeved Hawaiian print blouses. The one with the curly bob clutched a clipboard to her chest.

  "Hi, ladies. What can we do for you?" Keanu flashed a gleaming smile.

  "We're wondering if we could see Mr. Akamu for a moment," the woman with longer hair asked.

  "Certainly." Keanu started in the direction of the patio, but at that moment, Hale surprised us when he pushed open the kitchen doors.

  He glared at the both of us. "Why are the two of you standing around? We have customers waiting outside!"

  Keanu narrowed his eyes but chose to ignore Hale's statement. "These two ladies would like to see you."

  Hale stared at them with an impatient air. "Yes, what is it?"

  The woman with curly hair extended her hand, but Hale only nodded in return. She looked startled but spoke anyway. "Mr. Akamu, we're volunteers at Hopeful House. It's an organization for children and young adults who suffer from cancer. We were wondering if you'd care to make—"

  Hale rudely cut her off. "Sorry, ladies. Not interested. Have a good day." With that, he disappeared into the kitchen without a backward glance at them.

  The two women stood there for a minute, flustered and exchanging shocked looks. My heart went out to them. What a crappy thing to do. Even if Hale wasn't going to give them any money, he could at least have been civil. That didn't cost anything.

  I reached into my apron pocket. I only had thirty dollars in tips so far for the day, but they were welcome to them.

  The women smiled at us and without another word, headed for the door. Keanu saw me draw out the bills but shook his head at me.

  "Ladies?" They turned around and watched as Keanu reached into his wallet and then stuffed several bills into their outstretched hands. I couldn't see all of the denominations but knew that at least one had been a twenty. "With compliments of Loco Moco Café."

  The woman with longer hair handed Keanu a receipt and hugged him. He seemed faintly embarrassed by her actions.

  "What a dear boy you are. God bless you and your family," she said.

  A shadow passed over his face, and I found myself curious if this cause might have personal meaning for him. I didn't feel it was my place to ask though.

  Both women thanked him again, waved at me, and departed. Keanu's expression was somber, and I wondered what had changed. I opened my mouth to say something, but he interrupted.

  "I'll take these silverware packets outside. Why don't you see if Poncho has some orders ready to go? You've got to learn how to handle the food sooner or later." He gave me a playful nudge. "Just don't think of it as coffee."

  Like a noble gentleman, he didn't want to talk about the gallant act he'd performed, so I smiled and didn't press. "Okay, wise guy."

  I went into the kitchen, where Poncho was putting the finishing touches on a couple of sandwich wraps. He placed a healthy side of mango and pineapple on each plate. "For table five. When you come back, I will have the poi ready for table three."

  "Got it."

  "You'd better hurry up there, ho'aloha." He chuckled at my bewildered expression. "Do not worry. It means my friend. I would never say anything dirty to a nice girl like you, Miss Carrie. Now the big kahuna, on the other hand…" He clucked his tongue in disapproval.

  "Are you talking about Hale?" I whispered, my eyes darting around the room in fear that he might appear at any second.

  Poncho nodded while he added spices to the mixture he was stirring on the stove, which looked like some type of salsa. "Kahuna means several things. In ancient Hawaii, they refer to it as an expert. I tend to think of it myself as the one in charge. Both terms describe Hale. He is an expert at making money without doing anything at all. He is like that man who turned everything to gold. King Muffler, yes?"

  I burst out laughing. "I think you mean King Midas. Speaking of nicknames, is Poncho one?"

  He shook his head. "It is my given name. I was born in Mexico, and my family moved here when I was very young. My mother is of Hawaiian descent. My father, rest his soul, insisted I be named for a Mexican Revolution general. Most people, though, they think that I am named for a shawl. Big difference, no?"

  "Yes." He seemed a bit eccentric, and Vivian had told me that he was majorly OCD about his kitchen, but I already liked the man.

  I delivered the order and managed not to drop one item. Maybe I was getting the hang of this. I'd probably worried for nothing—this was going to work out fine. A tropical breeze, I laughed to myself.

  As I turned from the table, my sneakered foot connected with the patron's sandaled one. I tripped and went flying into table four.

  Fortunately, there were only drinks on their table, but they toppled quickly into the sand. A few patrons laughed, and some unkind children pointed and called names, but at least the patrons at the offending table were nice enough to help me up. My face burning, I kneeled down to clean up the mess.

  "I'll bring new drinks right away," I promised.

  Lola appeared at my side. Like Vivian, she had blonde hair, but hers was darker, more of a dirty shade, like Brad's. It fell in soft, perfect waves around her shoulders. She had a voluptuous-looking figure and soft brown eyes with long, thick lashes that reminded me of Bambi. Her mouth was sullen as she stooped beside me to help.

  "Nice going. Hale saw you," she hissed.

  "That's great," I said. "Where is he?"

  Lola pointed toward the building. He was standing at the upstairs office window, arms folded across his chest, staring down at us. Even at this distance, it was quite obvious he didn't look happy.

  "You take these into the café," she said. "I'll get table two's order. Bring out number three's. Don't rush. Take your time. It's all a balancing act. You'll get the hang of it by tomorrow."

  "If I'm still here tomorrow," I reminded her.

  She glanced upward at Hale again but said nothing.

  Keanu stopped me on my way back inside the building. "Hale wants to see you upstairs."

  I struggled to breathe normally. "Oh God. I'm doomed."

  He stared at me, expression grim. "If I could take the rap again, I would. But he saw the whole thing. Make up something. Say that your contact lens fell out. Be prepared—he likes to lord it out over people, especially women. You saw what he did to those two volunteers earlier. Hale has no feelings at all—like a regular snake."

  "Some snakes have feelings, don't they?" I tried to squelch my fear.

  Keanu shook his head. "Not boa constrictors. I don't know why his wife stays with him."

  "He's married?" By the way he had leered at me yesterday, I'd assumed he was a single, older guy on the prowl.

  "Going on twenty years." He gave me a pat on my shoulder. "Good luck."

  My legs were like dead weight as I trudged through the kitchen, ignoring the sympathetic look from Poncho. I climbed the stairs slowly and noiselessly. As I reached the top landing, I could hear Hale's voice resonating through the walls and froze in panic. Oh yeah, I was finished.

  "I'm cutting you off without another dime. Yep, you heard me right." There was a pause, and then Hale laughed, the sound echoing i
n my head. "Please. Do you think you're the first person who ever said they wanted to kill me? Get in line."

  I waited for him to continue but heard nothing. I looked up and caught sight of Hale standing there watching me, hands on his hips.

  "Well hello, Miss Jorgenson."

  I swallowed nervously. "I…um…didn't want to interrupt but heard you wanted to see me."

  Storm clouds brewed in those bone-chilling eyes of his, and I longed to be anywhere else but here.

  Hale pointed at the leather couch in the center of the wood-paneled floor. "Have a seat. There are a few things I need to say to you."

  CHAPTER THREE

  I forced myself to move forward, feet shuffling across the floor. I wondered if there was a tactful way to ask for a job recommendation.

  Hale gestured toward the couch again. "Sit."

  I bristled inwardly at the word. Did the man think I was a dog? "Um thanks, but I think I'll stand."

  Hale cocked one fine, arched eyebrow at me, obviously not used to people defying his requests. "Miss Jorgenson, do you want to keep working here?"

  "Yes."

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Yes, what?"

  Who the heck does this guy think he is? Did he get his jollies by making everyone jump through hoops like trained seals? As badly as I needed the job, I wasn't about to grovel at his feet. I had some pride left. "Yes, Hale."

  He appeared startled for a moment, and then his mouth twitched into a smile. "You're spunky, Miss Jorgenson. I like that. But the fact remains that I don't think you're cut out for this job. You're about as graceful as a pig at a luau."

  Lovely. I would have preferred the cliché bull-in-the-china-shop reference. I paused, trying to tame the anxiety growing from within. "Please, I'm trying. It's going to take me a little while longer to get the hang of it. You'll see."

  His smile was evil and foreboding. "Tell you what I'll do, Miss Jorgenson. I'm going to give you one more chance. But there's a condition attached."

  Of course there was. Even though I'd only worked here two days, I already had an idea of how this guy operated. I braced myself. "What is it?"

  He licked his lips, and his smile widened while a wave of nausea rolled through me. "Tomorrow night after work, you'll go to dinner with me."

  I knew it. This guy had no morals, hitting on his employees. "I'm sorry, but I can't have dinner with you. I have a boyfriend."

  Hale laughed. "Let him get his own dinner."

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and a petite Polynesian woman appeared. She was dressed in a white silk suit, and her bare, tanned legs donned an expensive pair of strappy sandals in the same color, with Silverstone studs that bore the distinct trademark of Versace. She carried a white Gucci leather bag that was larger than my bathroom sink. Her narrow face was pretty, with high cheekbones, and she had short, black hair cut in a blunt style that was striking with her features. Dark eyes that were slanted and focused on Hale quickly shifted their gaze to me. I watched her expression change and nostrils flare as she scanned me up and down.

  Uh-oh. This must be wifey poo.

  "What's going on here?" She addressed Hale while continuing to glare at me.

  Hale leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. "I was chatting with a new employee, sweetie." He gestured to me. "Carrie Jorgenson, this is my wife, Alana."

  I extended my hand. Alana narrowed her eyes, and I saw something in them that unnerved me. It was a calculating, all-knowing look. This woman was sharp and nobody's fool. I guessed that she knew exactly what her husband was.

  "It's very nice to meet you." My hand was left dangling in midair and finally, having no choice, I returned it to my side. Talk about your awkward moments.

  Alana's face turned crimson as she stared at her husband. "You never change, do you? This is why we can't get back together. You promised you would stop fooling around. As usual, your word means nothing."

  Hale held up a hand in protest. "It's not what you think, babe. I hired Miss Jorgenson because of her exceptional customer service skills."

  Oh yeah, he was definitely stretching the truth with that one.

  "Don't give me that," Alana snapped. "How stupid do you think I am? I have my spies. I know that you're fooling around with someone else besides this floozy too." She thrust a French manicured nail in my direction. "How much more am I supposed to take?"

  First a pig at a luau and now a floozy? Really?

  I started to say something then thought better of it. I backed up toward the stairwell until I caught Hale's eye. He nodded at me.

  "You can leave now, Miss Jorgenson. Keep up the good work."

  Before I was completely down the stairs, I heard something crash overhead, and then Alana started shouting. Hale yelled back, "You're nuts," and then another loud crash ensued. Unnerved, I wasn't watching where I was going and plowed right into Vivian at the bottom of the stairs.

  "Whoa." She laughed. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

  I pointed upward. "Call the police. I think they might kill each other."

  She waved her hand dismissively. "It happens all the time—believe me. She'll run out of here crying in a minute. Just watch." She pulled me by the arm over to the prep table. "Better get out of the way, or she'll mow you down."

  A minute later, I heard the sound of high heels clicking on the stairs, and Alana appeared. She sobbed as she ran past us, and despite her nasty attitude, my heart filled with pity for the woman. "Why does she stay with him if he cheats on her?"

  Vivian shrugged. "They're actually separated at the moment. And she stays with him because of the money. What else could it be? He's got tons."

  Poncho rang a little bell by the counter. "Yoo-hoo, Viv. Take this cheeseburger out to the man at the front counter, please."

  Vivian grabbed the platter and hummed a little tune low in her throat. Lola, the other full-time waitress, laughed with Poncho at some private joke and then disappeared into the café. I was the only one upset by the brawl, while it was business as usual for everyone else.

  "Did you get an order pad yet?" Vivian asked.

  I shook my head, and she gestured me to follow her through the double doors. After Vivian placed the plate down in front of a man who grunted "thank you," she reached down under the counter while I took the opportunity to peer at the contents on the shelves. There was a bottle of dill pickles about two feet tall, supplies for the two-burner coffeemaker station, and packets of silverware already made up. There was also a box filled with order pads. She thumbed through them for a minute, selected one, and handed it to me. There was a series of numbers on the top right-hand corner identifying each check, and at the bottom it said Pad Two, with Have a nice day! scrawled underneath it.

  "What does that mean?" I asked, pointing at the number on the bottom.

  "See…" Vivian removed her order pad from her apron pocket. "Mine is pad one. You got Carmen's when she was fired. Lola's three. We have a couple of other part-time servers who only work on weekends, and they use numbers four and five. If Keanu takes orders, he uses number six. This way, Poncho always knows who the order belongs to." She hesitated. "And Hale, if there are any problems with the service."

  Lovely. "Are you full-time?"

  She nodded. "Full-time and then some. Yeah, me and Lola. The restaurant is closed on Mondays, and we both usually have Sundays off. Poncho's off on Sundays as well. That's when Leo, our backup cook, comes in. He's also in most mornings to get breakfast started. Then Poncho takes over. Poncho likes to work alone. Let me tell you—he's amazing. If he gets really behind, Lola does some light cooking as well, but he hates anyone messing around in his kitchen. Poncho's a bit neurotic when it comes to people touching his stove. And don't even dream about opening the fridge. He becomes a complete psychopath then."

  "I heard that," Poncho yelled.

  Vivian laughed. "The other two girls, Sybil and Anna, are in college, so they don't want many hours, but they're cool about helping out if Lola or I need time off. I'
m guessing you'll be full-time too and probably work noon to closing, like me. Lola's shift fluctuates. If Anna comes in for the morning, Lola works the same shift as me."

  I stared at her for a full beat, wondering if I should tell her. I needed to confide in someone. "Hale asked me to have dinner with him tomorrow night."

  Her eyes widened. "Really?"

  "What should I do? I have a boyfriend and no interest in dating my boss, especially someone like him. He can't fire me if I don't go out with him…that's harassment."

  She clucked her tongue. "Don't worry. Maybe nothing will come of it, now that the old ball and chain has been in to check up on him."

  I caught the note of sarcasm in her voice. "You don't like her?"

  Vivian stared at me in disbelief. "She doesn't love him and vice versa. Alana's a spoiled, pampered princess who's afraid of losing her meal ticket. I think they're going to end up divorced anyway."

  Wow. It was like walking into a real-life soap opera.

  Vivian touched my arm. "Come on. There's a table of six outside. Help me take the orders. It will be good practice for you. Poncho likes neat printing, but you can abbreviate. Look at your pad. There're already some items listed there. SD is for soda, CF is for coffee, and HHBRG is for Hale's Hamburger Platter. So you only have to circle these items instead of writing them down. And of course POI is self-explanatory."

  I followed her outside and watched as she took down the first two orders with ease then gave me a gentle push forward. "Hey, guys. This is Carrie. She's new, so go easy on her."

  An elderly man with silver hair smiled at me. "Carrie, I'll take a chicken salad wrap with no tomato, fries, and a piña colada, please."

  I wrote down Chk wrap, no tom, fry, piña.

  Vivian looked over my shoulder and nodded. "Not bad." She took the rest of the orders with great precision, and we went back to the café together to fill the drink orders.

  "If people want specialty drinks, we call The Lava Pot," Vivian explained. "It's a tiki bar at the resort that we have on speed dial. Since we're so short staffed, it's easier to have them prepare the drinks. Sometimes Casey, the bartender, brings them over himself. God, that man is so hot." Vivian stopped to fan herself. "They bill Hale, and he settles up with them weekly. Poncho has some piña colada mix in the fridge, so you don't need to bother this time."