by Claire Adams
"What are you talking about? This is just for you," I teased. She pulled a face that made me laugh.
I'd lucked out finding Makani. I couldn't complain about living here on my own, independent and supporting myself, but Makani? She was my sister. Nobody would ever think we came from the same two parents looking at us, but she was at the top of the list of people I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
"Maybe when I'm forty and nobody else has tried to marry me yet," she said. "Actually, I might do you a favor and lock it down now. How many of the guys you've dated have ever brought you breakfast in bed?" she asked, holding up the brown paper bag that smelled like it had something delicious in it.
There was a perfect half watermelon in my refrigerator, but I was certain what she'd brought was full of butter and sugar and honestly, which would you pick?
"I don't know what's taking you this long to finally ask me," I said, taking the bag from her peering inside. The smell made my stomach growl: ham and cheese croissants. She popped our coffees out of the carrying tray.
"Too young and hot to get tied down," she joked. "You're terribly high maintenance; you'd drive me crazy," she said fondly.
I smiled. If our personalities were things on the island, I'd be the sun, and she'd be the mountains. She acted like she was so long suffering and weary of me, but she was probably the only person in my life who didn't have to be around me if she didn't want to be, but still was.
We'd become friends that first summer that I had worked at the Four Seasons. She was only a year older than I was, but I just remember being so impressed by how mature and grounded she seemed. She was smart, she was beautiful, and she didn't mind letting me – new and scared – shadow her at work.
You could say our summer romance had blossomed into a beautiful friendship, but it was more than that. I had never had any siblings, but I didn't even feel bad about it because she was my family. I laughed my hardest when I was with her.
"What would you do without me?" I challenged.
"Get a lot more sleep?" Makani said smirking. I knew it took her at least three alarms to get up in the morning. When we weren't working, she would be in bed most of the morning if I didn't get her up to do something.
"What were you doing last night?" she asked, walking into the kitchen to grab a couple plates. The house was so small, it didn't have a proper dining room. What it did have was a table and two patio chairs out on the porch where I tended to eat when I was home.
"Nothing, just stayed in," I said, walking to the door. There was always a nice wind coming off the ocean, so it was never too stuffy in the house. Makani followed me out, putting the plates on the table and taking the bag from me to slide the warm croissants out.
"Are you going to be taking classes this summer?" she asked, sitting in one of the chairs and curling her long legs underneath her.
If she ever got tired of the hospitality business, a good next career for her would be pageant queen, or model of any type. She was beautiful. HR had probably given her a job at the front desk because she looked like Miss Hawai'i. Her hair was naturally wavy, dark brown, the same color of strong coffee. She had light brown almond-shaped eyes and flawless, rich coppery skin. She was the sort of exotic Hawai'ian beauty the tourism board used in ads to sell the islands to visitors.
She took a sip from her coffee cup, grimaced, and held it out to me. She’d gotten mine by accident. She drank her coffee black, no sugar or cream. I didn't know how she did it; I thought it tasted like engine oil. I liked my coffee sweeter than was reasonable, with plenty of cream.
"No, I'll start in the fall. I can't study through the peak season."
"Don't remind me. The bookings are crazy."
"Aren't you excited?" I asked her. "There's so many parties and luaus." She looked at me furrowing her brow.
"It's also when we have Joseph breathing down our necks. Crazy guests asking for room service. Ugh, and the weddings," she said dramatically.
I giggled, biting into my croissant. The filling was warm and the pastry was flaky; little crumbs showered over my thighs. Joseph was our manager. He was a little frantic, but nice if you stayed on his good side.
"Everything blows up when the tourists come. The island's fast asleep whenever it isn't peak season. Think about it, Makani; the people who come here are relying on us to make their trip unforgettable. People don't forget things like that. You don't forget experiences. That young couple from Arkansas, here for their island wedding. They'll remember you organized their first horseback ride as a married couple on the beach."
"Uh-huh. They'll also remember their awesome island wedding when they're getting a divorce five years down the line because the guy hasn't been able to forget the pretty blonde who lei-ed him," she joked. I narrowed my eyes as she laughed.
"You're too young to be this jaded," I said shaking my head.
"I'm just being realistic. They're here on vacation. It isn't real life for them. Once they leave, they leave all this behind. They take their memories, but memories fade."
"You don't want to be responsible for making one person's day better? Be the one behind that one memory that makes them smile when they’re feeling down?" I urged.
"I just want to make it through another season in one piece."
"I can't wait," I said smiling, having a sip of my coffee.
"I want whatever you're smoking," she said shaking her head.
She was like a forty-year-old woman in the body of a hot twenty-two-year-old. She had been born on Lanai and had lived in the islands all her life. She had started working right after high school and been supporting herself just as long. She could be a little serious, but was a great time when she let her hair down.
We watched the tourists on the beach silently for a little while. Usually, the only people on the beach this early were people who wanted early morning runs or swims or elderly couples who wanted to walk the beaches while they were still quiet and fairly empty. It was nice. The wind blowing over the ocean towards us was fresh and salty.
I knew the perfect song for this moment.
"Mind if I play something?" I asked Makani. She said she didn't. I stole back into the house and came back out with my phone looking for the song. Remus had a song for every occasion.
The sound came through the speaker. An acoustic demo – just clean vocals, piano, and percussion. I had chosen my favorite song from them. It was a slightly slower song, “Nikki Out of Sight,” which they had released before they were signed.
One of the members, the pianist, Nate, had written it about his mother who had died when he was a kid. Not a lot of their newer fans seemed to like very much since they had done it in their older style. I liked the way they played now, but there was definitely a difference between their earlier and newer stuff.
"This that band you like?" Makani asked.
"There you go, I didn't even have to tell you who it was this time," I said smiling. I played Remus’s music often when we were together. Makani was steadfastly lukewarm about them, not from a lack of effort on my part. She didn't know any of the band members and didn’t listen unless we were together and I put it on, but she could probably name like, one album title if she tried.
"I don't get it," she said, shaking her head.
"Nate, one of the members, wrote the song for his mom."
"Nikki is his mother?" she asked, pulling a face.
"She died when he was young. The song's about how hard he would try not to forget her because the older he got, the longer she'd been gone." Makani nodded.
"Is that why you like it? Because it’s miserable?” she asked.
“It’s not miserable. It’s cathartic,” I insisted. She humored me by agreeing.
She was one of the few people I’d met who didn’t love the band. I’d been listening to them since they had released their independent LP. They never had any Hawai’ian tour dates, so I’d never seen them live, but I imagined I’d probably combust if I was in the same room as they
played their stuff.
There was something really raw about their lyrics that I felt I could relate to. It was beautiful music, but their themes sometimes skewed a little dark. Loss, death, things that were scary to think about, but made me feel better about where I’d come from.
I related, to this song at least, because my mother was dead, too. She hadn't been gone long enough for me to start forgetting her, but I had been fifteen when it had happened. That wasn't better or worse than losing her at an older or younger age – it always sucked to lose a parent.
The song ended, and we quickly finished our breakfast. Makani waited as I got ready, and we left for work together, taking the short walk. The trail brought us up to the main building between the pool and the golf course.
The resort was gorgeous. I had so much respect for the staff who cleaned and decorated, making sure it always looked amazing. There were always fresh flowers at our front desk every day. That was where we worked most of the time, checking people in and out and taking inquiries, but sometimes we’d coordinate luaus, events, parties, wedding receptions, things like that.
Work was fun. It didn’t really feel like working, not to me anyway. I liked talking to people. Makani was professional and warm with all the information, and I liked to engage guests, ask them where they were from, whether they’d been to Lanai before, just make them feel comfortable. All I wanted was a smile back when I gave one.
A few hours in, the phone rang. I picked it up, giving my usual introduction and greeting.
"Abby?" Joseph barked. I jumped. I had never been in trouble at work before, but he always talked to us like we were. He was Samoan. Big and tall, and the sort of guy you didn't really want to know how mean and scary he could be, so you were always on your best behavior around him.
"Yes, sir?" I squeaked, clearing my throat.
"My office," he said shortly and hung up. I looked at the phone briefly before putting it down. Why did he want to see me? I knew I wasn't in trouble, but he tended to spend a lot of his time outside his office, chatting with guests and overseeing the staff.
"What's up?" Makani asked.
"Joseph wants to see me," I said.
"Right now? Why?" I shrugged. I told her I'd be right back before leaving to go to his office. It was behind the reception area, through a door that was for staff only. I knocked before I went in. He was sitting at his desk. I smiled at him coming in. I saw his stone face mask drop for just a second, about to smile back before he stopped himself.
"Abby, I need you to check the presidential suite," he said, getting straight to the point.
"Which one?"
"The Hulopoe suite; he wants the ocean views."
"I'll get right on it," I said. I didn't want to ask why, but I was curious. He had said “he” wanted ocean views. Who was he talking about? I thought up a way to make the question less obvious. "Uh, any special instructions for housekeeping?" I asked.
"If anything's wrong, have them fix it. We have a guest who wants the suite for the entire season. It needs to be perfect. Oh, and he requested a piano in his room and these drinks in his refreshment center," he said, handing me a list.
I raised my eyebrows. The Four Seasons was already a swanky place, but if someone was taking a Presidential Suite for the whole summer, they had to be some sort of celebrity or billionaire – especially if he’d sent a wish list ahead of him. I bit my lip wondering who it was.
"Can I ask who it is?" I asked carefully.
"He's a musician. Nick Stone," he said.
"Nate?" I asked quickly, correcting him. I cleared my throat and reeled it in. "Nate Stone?" I asked again, hoping he wasn't onto me.
"Yeah, that must be him. Plays in a band. Rich father. He wants the suite for three months. He is an extremely important guest, checks in today. I know I can trust you to make his stay unforgettable," he said, giving me one of his rare smiles. He had them all the time for the guests, but not for us. I think he did it to scare us – keep us in line.
I nodded because if I opened my mouth, I'd probably scream. Nate Stone. Nate Stone was coming here. I was about to meet Nate Stone. I would be able to see Nate Stone every day for the next three months. Joseph dismissed me and I left the room, feeling like my skin was on fire.
Ohmygod, Nate Stone. I wanted to scream. I had just been talking about him with Makani that morning.
Whew. Down girl. I had to get a grip. I had work to do. I hurried back to the desk.
In a few hours, I’d be meeting Nate Stone. I couldn’t wait.
Chapter Three
Nate
The first time I'd been to Hawai'i was over a decade ago. My mother had lived there for years before she moved to San Francisco and met my dad.
Whenever we went on vacation, we'd come to Hawai'i. We would stay at this private villa on the beach on the Big Island. The staff who worked at the house had kids my age who I'd play with, and we'd always stay there for weeks at a time before going back home. Every night, my parents and I would take a walk together on the private beach. I remember I'd always be up first because I liked watching the fishing boats on the water when the sun was coming up.
After she died, we never went back to the house again. We'd stay at hotels. Five-star places that had been nice, but they'd never really felt like home; and since she was gone anyway, it was never really the same. I just remembered a lot of babysitters since Dad would always take his work with him, something he had never done on vacation with Mom.
I had tried to figure out what happened to that house we used to stay in; it had been demolished and a golf resort had gone up instead.
Guess the Four Seasons was a good enough second pick. I don't know what I would have done in the old house if it had still been standing. It had been a long time, like twenty years, so there was no way it would have still looked the same, anyway.
Even if I had been able to stay there, maybe the isolation wouldn't have been the best thing for me at a time like this. It sort of sounded like the kind of place where I'd slowly lose my mind. Somewhere it would take a hell of a long time for anyone to find me if I fucked up and overdosed or something.
Yeah. The Four Seasons it was. At least if I OD'd there, I'd be found the next morning by housekeeping.
I'd never been to their hotel on Lanai, but I'd stayed at their Vegas location, and it would just be like that but with palm trees, right? All I wanted was three months where I didn't have to be Nate Stone. Remus, and my label, and Kirsten could all go to hell. I just wanted to relax, goddamn it. Was that too much to ask?
My life was a fucking garbage fire. Maybe it would still be a mess when I got back, but there was a chance I'd get my head out of my ass long enough while I was on the island to actually sort it out. If nothing else, I could just pretend that everything wasn't completely horrible. I could get massages and be a tourist for a while. And when I went back, I'd just cut everyone off and become a hermit.
Or maybe I'd spend so much time in Hawai'i I wouldn't want to go back at all. There was an idea, I thought. Isn't that what people did? Sort of like moving off the grid, but not really because Hawai'i was not the middle of nowhere. I'd change my name, get a boring job like selling cars, get really fat and be happy. Anything was better than my life now. It literally could only go up from here. This was the fucking bottom.
I managed to sit through the entire flight without killing myself. It was an early morning flight but they were serving booze, thank God, so it could have been worse. They only had wine, which I didn't usually drink, but after like three glasses, eight hours really flies by.
I was feeling okay by the time we landed. No shaking. No sweating. Nobody on the plane asking me for autographs or taking my picture, either. Honestly, one of the better flights I'd taken commercially – but I made a mental note to just spare myself the bullshit the next time I wanted to go somewhere.
As I got off the plane, I immediately regretted wearing my hoodie. It was hot, but there was a nice breeze, so it wasn't too
humid. I'd take the hoodie off, but I wasn't in the clear yet. It was better safe than sorry. I wasn’t on the Big Island, but all it took was one person recognizing you. If word got out that I was here, then I could kiss my vacation goodbye.
Had my assistant said anything to the hotel about privacy? I hoped so. Why hadn't I done all this shit myself, I thought. I knew what the actual answer to that question was, but I decided I hadn't because it was Casey's job to do things like that for me and that was what I paid her for. Yeah. That reason was better than me just being too strung out to do it myself. The point wasn't to be truthful – it was to make myself feel better about being a junkie.
I went through arrivals, grabbing my luggage off the carousel, and exiting the building to the parking bay where drivers were waiting to pick up passengers and hotel shuttles were filling up to take people where they needed to go. Casey had told me that the Four Seasons had sent me a car so I didn't have to worry about getting one myself. Good, I thought. The more things they could do without me having to ask them, the better.
I was on vacation. I was officially tapped out. Whatever was happening in LA, with the band, with Kirsten, I didn't want to hear it. I didn't give a fuck. I was officially too far away for it to touch me.
Three months of sand, sun, and hot Hawai'ian girls. I walked up to the car. The driver was this older Hawai'ian guy, about my dad's age. He was wearing a uniform with the Four Seasons logo and holding a card with my name on it. He smiled, seeing me walking over to him.
"Mr. Stone?" he asked.
"Call me Nate. The hotel sent you?" I asked. He said they had as he reached for my suitcase. I stopped him because I could do it myself. I was also a little shifty about people handling my bag when I knew what I had in there.
"Is this your first time on Lanai?" he asked. I heaved my suitcase up into the trunk.