05-O'ahu Lonesome Tonight?

by JoAnn Bassett

  The dinner conversation mostly involved a blow-by-blow accounting of Natalie’s home renovation projects. My mind wandered, since not only was I not one bit interested in the pros and cons of travertine versus granite, but I was anxious to learn what had happened to Steve up at the North Shore. I noted that although she talked pretty much non-stop, Natalie never alluded to her ‘condition.’ In my experience, self-absorbed pregnant women rarely missed an opportunity to lord it over the rest of us. So it struck me as odd that Natalie never brought it up.

  After a luscious dessert of mango crème brulee with toasted coconut topping, I tapped my wrist and asked Stu if he’d tell me the time. He leaned forward as he’d done at the Moana and thrust his gaudy Rolex under my nose. I was starting to wonder if he didn’t know how to tell time.

  “Oh, wow,” I said. “It’s nearly eight. I should really be going.”

  “I’ll get my keys,” said Stu.

  “Mahalo, but that’s not necessary,” I said. “Jeff said he’d pick me up at eight. And since the rain’s let up he’ll probably enjoy getting out for a little drive.”

  At that point, the maid came in and started picking up dessert dishes. Stu shot her some stink eye but she apparently didn’t notice because she kept working.

  Stu leaned in to Natalie. “Tell your sister to come back later,” he said.

  Natalie spoke a few words to the maid and she skittered from the room.

  “I really don’t mind driving you back. I’m going into Honolulu anyway. I’ve got a meeting in thirty minutes.”

  “A meeting? But it’s night-time.” I said.

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” Stuart said. “More of a ‘meet for a drink’ kind of thing. Not an actual business meeting.”

  “Well, thanks for the offer,” I said. “But by now Jeff’s probably already on his way. He should be here any minute.”

  I hustled toward the foyer, digging through my voluminous purse for my phone. With my back to my hosts I set the land speed record for text messaging.

  “Do you think he’ll be able to find the house?” Stu said. “It’s dark out there.”

  I spun around. “He’s fine. He’s got the address.”

  Natalie glided into the foyer and stood beside Stu. “Ask her,” she hissed in his ear.

  “Pali, I’d really appreciate an opportunity to see you again before you leave O’ahu,” he said. “Maybe lunch, just the two of us?”

  “Oh my gosh, is that a Wyland?” I said. I pointed to a three-foot high sculpture of a breaching whale in an alcove off the foyer.

  “Good eye,” said Stu. “We bought that at Wyland’s gallery in Lahaina. That’s before I knew you lived over there, of course.”

  I thanked them both for a lovely dinner and beat a hasty retreat for the front door. I explained my quick departure by saying it was indeed pretty dark outside and I should wait outside to flag Jeff down.

  I never answered Stu’s question about lunch. I prayed Jeff would show up before Stu remembered to ask me again.

  CHAPTER 13

  The white Ford Focus came into view. Steve was driving.

  “Where’s Jeff?” I said as I slid into the passenger seat.

  “He’s on the phone with some people from his work. From what I could hear, he didn’t sound very happy.”

  I buckled up.

  “So,” he went on, “Did you enjoy dinner with your brother and sister-in-law?”

  “It was fine. But I’ve reached my family fun limit.”

  “I gotta hand it to you, Pali. After all the weirdness with your father, you’re a trooper to spend time with these people. Jeff said your brother Stuart’s a real jerk.”

  “Well, Stu may be a jerk, but the wife’s even worse.”

  “How worse?” I looked over and Steve was grinning. Nobody loved snarky talk more than Steve.

  “I don’t even know where to begin.” I said. “Well, actually, I do. Get this: she’s got her own sister working as her personal maid. She even makes her wear a black uniform. With a tidy little apron.”

  “OMG. A French maid get-up? Did she have the little white cap? Because, you know, it’s the little white chapeau that makes that outfit sing.”

  I glared but he kept his eyes on the road.

  “But on the other hand,” he went on, “maybe the maid thing was just for your benefit. Jeff said when he met your brother he was slathering on the Mr. Big attitude real thick.”

  “True. But compared to her he’s a rank amateur.”

  “Is she a local?”

  “I don’t think so. She looks Asian, but she’s got a bit of a British accent. But it could be fake. Maybe she’s like Madonna—you know, born and raised in Michigan but now trying to pass herself off as a London socialite.”

  “Is she pretty?”

  “I guess so. She’s so annoying it’s hard for me see past that. But I’m sure most men would find her attractive.”

  “Maybe she’s from Hong Kong. I knew a guy from there. To hear him talk, Hong Kong’s the tippy-top of the social food chain. And they’d rather give up a kidney than let go of their English accent. It was a dark day when the mainland Chinese came marching into Hong Kong Harbor.”

  “Can you march into a harbor?” I said. “Wouldn’t you have to sail in?”

  “You know what I mean. When the Communist Chinese took over, lots of the Hong Kong elite grabbed their money and ran.”

  Natalie’s origins weren’t something I wished to discuss further. She was only related to me by marriage. At most, I’d have to see her once or twice a year at family gatherings.

  “So,” I said. “What happened to you today? I was beside myself with worry.”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” he said. “I got to the North Shore and the waves were enormous. Twenty, maybe thirty feet high. I got to talking with a couple of guys and they offered to loan me a board. On my first ride in I wiped out so hard I got a bloody nose. But after a few tries, I caught a monster and rode it all the way to shore. So, having proved my manhood, I decided to call it a day.

  “Meanwhile, lifeguards were pulling people out left and right. Most of the brine-suckers were surfer wannabes like me. That’s why I quit after one good ride. No sense making a spectacle of myself.

  “Anyhow, the two guys I’d borrowed the board from had parked way on the other end of the beach. I offered to help them haul their boards back and we started walking. When we were pretty far down the beach I thought I saw someone way out. It looked like he was waving. I pointed it out to the guys and they said that whole area is one big rip current. I don’t know why, but next thing I knew I was on a board heading out to get the guy.”

  “You rescued someone?” I said.

  “Let’s just say it totally freaked me to think I might see someone drown. I had to do something.”

  “You’re a hero.”

  “Nah. I’m a good swimmer and I had a board. Anyhow, when we got back to shore the paramedics showed up and we drew quite a crowd. The lifeguards acted weird about it. They gave me beef about going out instead of waiting for them, but they caved when the EMT’s said the dude was so done in he probably wouldn’t have lasted more than a few more minutes.”

  “Maybe you’ll make the news,” I said.

  “Who knows? Like I said, there was a lot going on.”

  I turned on the TV as soon as we got back to the apartment. The news wasn’t on yet, but during commercial break a promo said, “Three visitors were taken to local area hospitals after near-drowning incidents on the North Shore. Film at eleven.”

  “You rescued three people?” I said.

  “Nah. Just one. The lifeguards pulled out the other two.”

  When the news came on, Steve’s rescue was the lead story. He credited his new friends with assisting him in pulling the victim from the shore surf. “I was totally wiped by the time we got about thirty feet from shore,” he said. He stared into the camera with his ‘just doing what any other red-blooded American would do’ eyes. �
��Without these guys helping me, the outcome might’ve been different.”

  Two burly blond guys who could’ve modeled Quicksilver beach gear shot shaka signs and beamed. “Steve’s the one who took the big chance,” said one.

  The other chimed in. “Yeah. This dude’s a freakin’ hero.”

  The next story was about the continuing flow of raw sewage into the Ala Wai Canal. A young female reporter was standing on the bridge on Ala Wai Boulevard. “This is Cindi Takeda reporting from Waikiki. Millions of gallons of untreated sewage have been diverted into the Ala Wai Canal since Sunday. Millions more will be dumped over the next few days while crews attempt to repair the break in the main sewer line.”

  The story shifted to a shot of a press conference. The mayor of Honolulu stood at a podium behind a forest of microphones. “We’re doing our best to remedy this situation as quickly as possible,” he said. “The continuing rainfall has overwhelmed the pumps and burst the pipes. This won’t be an easy fix, but we are working night and day to get things back to normal. In the meantime, be assured we are monitoring the situation and we see no immediate danger to the citizens of Honolulu.”

  “I’m glad Farrah and Ono moved out of the marina,” I said.

  “I was just going to ask if you’d heard from them,” said Steve.

  It went to commercial and Jeff snapped off the TV. “You know, Steve, I’ve been thinking,” he said. “You should tell Go Hawaii they need to sweeten their offer.”

  Steve shot him a confused look.

  “The hero bump. Think about it. They’re about to hire the dude who pulled a tourist from the jaws of death. Gotta be worth a little extra coin for those bragging rights.”

  “I agree,” I said. “And, since you’re the hero, you get to sleep in a bed tonight. I’ll sleep out here on the sofa.”

  “Mahalo, but I’m good with the sofa. I’m kind of wound up,” said Steve. “I think I’ll go downstairs and grab a quick beer someplace.”

  “You hoping to get recognized?” said Jeff.

  “Hey, it’s my fifteen minutes of fame. I’m not going to waste it sleeping.”

  ***

  The next morning I wandered out to the kitchen for coffee. Jeff was already sitting at the table. No sign of Steve.

  “Did Steve come in last night?” I said.

  “I guess so. He left a note.” Jeff handed me a take-out menu with scribbled writing on the back.

  Getting cab to airport. Got a shoot this p.m. Thanx for everything. Steve.

  “Looks like our hero has left the building,” said Jeff.

  Outside, the rain was coming down in buckets. Jeff looked out and shook his head. “You know if I wanted to hang out in weather like this I’d have invited you to come to San Francisco. At least there we’ve got great sourdough bread.”

  “So what? Over here you can get fresh malasadas and Hawaiian sweet bread.”

  “And we’ve got tons of local wine, and fresh crab, and Ghirardelli chocolate, and…need I go on?”

  “Okay, so California’s a great place to eat. But do they have loco moco?”

  “Wow, I haven’t thought about that in years. Do you think we can find some?”

  We went downstairs and asked the local guy manning the valet stand if there was a loco moco joint anywhere near.

  “They all over. Best one’s about three blocks mauka. Past Kuhio. I think the name’s ‘Bubba’s’ or ‘Bruddah’s’. Like that.”

  We walked up Lewers to a place called ‘Buster’s Broiler.’ It looked like the kind of place where mothers wipe the silverware with a paper napkin before letting their kids use it. We sat at a sticky table near the front and both ordered loco moco and coffee.

  “You want hot sauce with that?” said the waitress. I thought she meant hot sauce in our coffee, but Jeff figured it out quickly and nodded. She brought over a carrier with crusty half-filled bottles of ketchup, Cholla hot sauce and Tabasco.

  Although loco moco is an island favorite, everybody makes it their own way. It’s usually some combination of rice, ground beef, fried eggs and gravy. But it’s amazing how many variations you can get with those four ingredients. This version had a mound of white rice layered with a well-done hamburger patty and two over-easy fried eggs on top. The whole thing was smothered in thick white gravy with sausage bits in it. No doubt ‘loco moco’ is the Hawaiian term for ‘heart attack on a plate,’ but it tastes great.

  “Wonder how much cholesterol is in this?” said Jeff, as if reading my mind.

  “You really want to know?”

  “Probably not.”

  “You can’t get a breakfast like this in San Francisco,” I said.

  “Yeah. Maybe that’s why people live longer there.”

  “Is that true?” I said.

  “Nah, actually Hawaii tops the list for life expectancy,” he said. “Maybe someday archeologists will find the long-lost fountain of youth and it will be spewing sausage gravy.”

  “Maybe we live longer because we don’t stress. We live aloha.”

  “That’s probably more like it.” He put down his fork. “Speaking of stress, I’m afraid I have to leave today.”

  “Today? But it’s only Wednesday. You told me you’d be here ‘til Friday.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry. But I talked to some people last night. The lab’s in an uproar.”

  “After only two days?”

  “We run 24/7 so technically it’s been four days. Seems the gal I left in charge screwed up some parameters and the readings are off the charts. I’ve got to get back there and straighten it out.”

  I stared down at the wreckage of my moco loco but couldn’t eat another bite. Jeff reached across the table and put a hand on mine.

  “I’m really sorry,” he said. “I put off making this decision as long as I could.”

  “Okay. But I’m not buying your lab story. I bet you’ve been watching that stupid ‘doggie cam’ and you’re feeling guilty about leaving Jack in the kennel.”

  Jeff smiled. “I wish that was it. For sure Jack’s gonna be doing the happy dance when he sees me. But seriously, it looks like my last six months of work is about to go down the crapper. I need to get back and see if I can salvage any of it.”

  We walked back to the penthouse and while Jeff packed I went online and found him a seat on the afternoon flight.

  “It’s gonna cost you two hundred bucks to change,” I said.

  “A small price to pay for half-a-year’s work.”

  “You sure there’s no one you can call to get those parameters, or whatever they’re called, fixed?”

  “Nope. And I can’t blame Sheila. I put her in charge but I didn’t give her enough information to make adjustments if something like this came up.”

  “You kept her in the dark? Why?”

  “The work is way beyond top-secret. Point of fact: I didn’t trust her.”

  “Let me see if I’ve got this right: you didn’t trust your co-worker with the details of your project, but you trust Honolulu taxi drivers, the TSA, and the airlines to get you safely from here to there?”

  “Getting me home safe isn’t my job. My job is my job.”

  “Spoken like a true-blue federal contractor.”

  Jeff asked me if I’d mind driving him out to the airport. “If I can avoid Honolulu taxi drivers, that takes it down to two out of three. Better odds. You want to keep the car until you leave, though, right?”

  “No, I think I’ll turn it in. I only need it to get out to the airport on Friday and I can catch a shuttle for that.”

  I took him to the airport and as we hugged good-by we both promised to call more often. I dropped the car at the rental place and took a hotel shuttle back to Waikiki.

  I figured I’d enjoy a few days of blissful solitude before I getting back to work. Premium cable movies, ‘plate lunch’ dinners from the Steak Shack, and maybe even a couple of long hot baths in the penthouse’s two-person marble tub. I’d miss Jeff, but I was going to do my best to
enjoy my time off.

  I just wished it would stop raining.

  CHAPTER 14

  Thursday morning dawned gray with a thick cloud bank lingering on the horizon. I took a cup of coffee and my cell phone out on the covered lanai and looked down on the city below. Waikiki doesn’t wake up one eye at a time like Hali’imaile does back home. It bounds into the day, with the peep-peep-peep of trucks backing up and the metal-on-metal cacophony of Dumpsters being picked up and slammed against garbage trucks. Buses idled at hotel entrances thirty stories below, and rowers in outrigger canoes were already churning through the off-shore swells.

  First I called Hatch. It was late morning in Montana so I was surprised when he picked up.

  “Hey, Babe,” he said. “I was thinking about calling you but I didn’t know if you’d be up yet.”

  “It’s eight o’clock.”

  “I know, but I thought you and your brother may have had a late night.”

  “Jeff’s gone.” It surprised me when my voice cracked a little. I cleared my throat and went on. “Something came up at his work and he had to go home early.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, except it’s still raining. I can’t remember when we’ve ever had this much rain in September. But enough about me. How’re you doing?”

  “I’m great. I love it here. I didn’t know places like this still existed. It’s clean and green and, well, big. Everything feels new. Sometimes I get out there and it’s like there’s not another soul around for miles and miles. ”

  “Because there isn’t.”

  “Yeah. Gotta love it.”

  I felt something catch in my chest; a little pinch that made me aware of my breathing.

  “You aren’t thinking of staying, are you?”

  The pause was a beat too long. “Of course not. I’m just enjoying the adventure. We should come back here someday. You know, together. I’d love to show you around.”