Longboard (Desk Surfing Series Book 1)

by Davila Eggert

  "Weird," said Jessie.

  "There's weirder guys out there."

  "Oh, for sure," said Jessie.

  "Plus, this one's rich."

  "For sure," said Jessie.

  "So then I was like deuces and just left."

  "He didn't say anything?" asked Jessie.

  "Not last night, and today the only thing he said to me was that I did a good job on the presentation."

  "Well, obvi he's not gonna say you did a good job last night," said Jessie, "I mean there was no last night."

  "What do you mean there was no last night? I had my legs spread open on his desk."

  "Yeah, but that's so off the record it's just gone. It's going, going, gone," said Jessie.

  "You mean like it's not gonna come up again?"

  "I'm not him but why would he bring that shit up again?" asked Jessie.

  "Then what the fuck was that?"

  "You just answered your own question. It was just a bang. He had to get it out of his system," said Jessie.

  "It was just a bang."

  "I don't want to hurt your feelings but I know you're a big girl and you can take it," said Jessie, "I don't think there's anything much more to it. He's wealthy and powerful and all that. Those guys are used to getting what they want. My dad's the same way. Maybe he had a bad stock trade that day and had to let off some steam. And we know there's no wife in the picture."

  "Then why not just go to North King Street, if he just wants a bang?"

  "He's already paying you," said Jessie.

  "Speechless."

  "I'm not trying to get under your skin," said Jessie, "I'm trying to put it in perspective. This is how guys with money and power think. I know cuz my dad's like that. You know my dad how he likes jokes. You think he didn't work his charm on a waitress or stewardess now and then, make them laugh, flash some money. Some girls never knew they were a fish until they attracted a whale. He's not the worst looking dude and some women flock to money. That's actually why my mom never divorced him. She considered philandering a price tag. She was willing to put up with it cuz it kept pearls on her neck. There's a game these dudes play."

  "I know."

  "Do you?" asked Jessie.

  "You think I'm caught up?"

  "Probably too early to tell," said Jessie.

  "Why?"

  "If after a month you still think he's going to wine and dine you then I'd say you were caught up," said Jessie.

  "But..."

  "If you just accept that it was a bit of steam he had to let off and go back to dating normal dudes then I'd say you're not," said Jessie.

  "I guess you're right."

  "You're on the pill though right?" asked Jessie.

  "Yes ma'am."

  "Good girl," said Jessie.

  "So what's up with you?"

  "Just work," said Jessie.

  "Any dudes in the picture?"

  "None for now," said Jessie.

  "Why not?"

  "Taking a break," said Jessie.

  "Ok."

  "Well that's one thing about working in a hotel," said Jessie, "Always fresh meat checking in."

  "Especially in O'ahu."

  "Especially," said Jessie.

  "Oh, I wanted to tell you there's this chick at work, Malia, she's our age. So because we did well tag-teaming this presentation today. I invited her to come hang with us at Ginger Snap happy hour. Is that cool?"

  "Yeah," said Jessie.

  "That's why I wanted to talk to you about this now, I couldn't wait till Friday and I figure we'd just laugh and talk it up. It's the end of the week so no heavy stuff, like what's this mean or what's that mean."

  "Yeah but you gotta buy me Flaming Lips shots and do 'em with me, for always having your back," said Jessie.

  "No doubt."

  "Cool." said Jessie.

  "I'll roll up after work and have the shots waiting on you because you've got the longer drive."

  "Thoughtful," said Jessie.

  "I am."

  "Alright bambina," said Jessie.

  "Alright girl."

  "Bye."

  "Bye."

  I stared out the window at the banana tree leaves that waved in the wind. They were always flapping at my window in the morning while I was trying to have breakfast. I was legs up on my sofa staring out the window. It felt forlorn but I was more or less ok, more or less. I just kept thinking about what Jessie said, that it was just a bang. For some reason, I couldn't go down that alley. It wasn't just on the desk. It was on the conference room table. If he just had to blow off some steam why not just fire off once? What was the deal with the red boob stains? Why was he so fixated on them? Was it just boobs? Was it mine? It didn't feel like there was an easy explanation hanging in the air, so I stopped looking for one but I fundamentally disagreed with Jessie. There was something about the way Longboard avoided me that made me think there was something he himself wasn't willing to admit. I just kept staring out the window as the sun hit one of the banana leaves so hard, it turned white. I had to look away it was so bright. But the banana leaves kept brushing at my window. It gave me the feeling they agreed with Jessie, like they were saying listen to her. I was happy to let Jessie think that I was in agreement. Jessie was the type to mother the world. She would keep on trying to shield me from Longboard, like I was her little duckling. I was determined to let it play out. I wanted a set up where Longboard would have the opportunity to hit it again. That was the true test of hit-it-and-quit-it--could you really quit it?

  It didn't take long for my opportunity to come. On Thursday, Longboard was so excited about how well the presentation went that he made Friday night reservations for the office at Osmi. Osmi was this new It club on Kapiolani. Basically, it's the kind of place where you can sign a bill that's five digits long, just to sit at a table with the same bottle labels you can find at Costco. Longboard wanted to throw an evening for the office, which was gestural of him. He had a reputation of being pretty tight with money. He had the nickname Kiewei McDuck. I think it was started by Brianna, our old office manager. She had to fight with him a lot over accounts payable. It seemed to me that if the claim was legit, you had to pay up but Longboard didn't always see it that way, so the story goes. I already had my date with Jessie and Malia on Friday but that was for happy hour, five-to-seven. Clubs like Osmi didn't open till eleven. I could pre-game with the girls before going through Osmi. And that was it, the plan.

  Friday came and I didn't talk to Jessie before-hand. I sent her a text that we were game for happy hour and that the office was having a thing at Osmi. I invited Jessie to the office party and she texted back one word, maybe. I invited out of friendship. Nightclubs weren't Jessie. But I could have used my wing-woman. Because it was the first time I'd be seeing Longboard in a social setting, since we made the office a social setting. Nothing so big happened on Friday. Everyone was checked out. It was like any other office, which made it feel somewhat back to normal. It felt like Friday. Tuesday felt like another world. It wasn't what I wanted but I started thinking maybe Jessie was right. It was just a bang. Maybe I just got something I needed. And maybe Longboard needed it too. I was good for at least six weeks. And without a guy in tow, I just had to do everything in strides.

  5 o'clock came and I was gone. Ginger Snap wasn't far from the office, maybe a little over a mile downtown on Nuuanu Ave. Parking was always the issue but otherwise I liked going to Ginger Snap. It was left of center. A lot of the busy-bee traffic that went on downtown was a block or two over on Fort Street Mall and Bishop. Every hotspot part of every central district had those few opportunistic businesses that were just on the outskirts--out of the action. That was Ginger Snap. Despite the name avenue, Nuuanu Avenue was a one-way street, so I had to round the block to see if I could get one of the few street-side parking places. I couldn't. But I just had a good feeling being back at that place. It was my hangout. I couldn't tell you how much time between then and my last visit but it was a while. I like
d that part of Nuuanu. If you could ignore the skyscrapers in the background it almost felt like you were in a settlement town, like the setting of an old western. The sidewalks were skinny. And the buildings were brick. Everything was two stories. And you had storefront windows, the kind that actually let you steal a view at what was going on inside. It wasn't that big department store culture where mannequins in the window were made to look 'better' than you. It had that neon open sign hanging close enough that you could see it through a dark tinted window. I drove by to park in the paid lot that was at the end of Nuuanu, by the water. I had to walk back up the street with my sunglasses because the late afternoon sun liked to be at eye-level. As I walked up to the door, it was my first time to see the tiny word 'The' next to the big Ginger Snap. The bar was officially called The Ginger Snap. I posted a mental note on my corkboard.

  The lounge looked narrow. But no one went there to sit on the first floor. Upstairs was the everything. Downstairs had the bar though. It was quaint, with seven stools. They had a limited selection of sushi and sashimi. And they had teas. And you could eat at the bar and watch the chefs make your meal. The specials were written on a blackboard, hung high on the redbrick wall behind the oval-shaped cooking area. The interesting thing was that the bar was upstairs. You could order tea from downstairs but if you wanted to get tight or loose, you had to go fish. There was no wait staff to bring you a drink. You had to go to the bar, order it and then take it to your seat. But downstairs had drink menus. The windows were dark tint downstairs and upstairs had no windows, which let them create their own ambiance. I liked it upstairs because it didn't pander to tourists. That means it wasn't trying to celebrate Hawaii. It was its own animal.

  There was a large reproduced painting of Thomas MacDonough on the far wall. He was an American Naval Officer famous for his victory at the Battle of Lake Champlain, during the war of 1812. I only knew that because one night I was drunk enough to ask, but sober enough to remember. There were cowboy relics: stirrups; spurs; cowboy boots and a necklace made out of a snake's rattles hanging on the wall. There were some Hawaiian things though. A wood-finish Hawaiian longboard surfboard was mounted on the east wall and one on the west wall. The music was often Dizzy Gillespie, Otis Redding or Diana Ross. Downstairs was very Asian. Upstairs was very American. There were no chairs, only seven booths. The booths were all U-shaped with round tables in the middle. And they all had leather backing. But it wasn't that red diner-pop leather. It was that rustic maroon, still very reminiscent of the Old West. I grabbed the far booth on the right side. There were still five booths open. Two were taken, one by a couple the other by a triplet. So I sat by myself and played with my smart phone. I already knew what I wanted to order, but I wanted to wait for the girls. I wouldn't call myself an expert on anything. But I knew that for conversation to be good, you had to be at about the same level of intoxication as your counterparts. Just imagine showing up to a party two hours late stone-sober. You almost wouldn't recognize how much fun people were having because you were in a different state of mind. It was the same when you were one drink in and everyone else just fed the parking meter. So I waited.

  Jessie showed first. She had on her suit skirt, minus the name tag. I figured she would beat Malia because Malia said she was coming but had to do something before she came. It was the reason she didn't want to ride together, even though she didn't know exactly where the place was.

  "Should we kick off or round off?" asked Jessie, meaning should we get started or wait to share the first round with Malia.

  "I'll text her...No answer."

  "Let's get started," said Jessie.

  "Cool, need a minute?"

  "Nope," said Jessie. I handed her my credit card.

  "I'll have an Even Split." It was equal parts banana and chocolate liqueur with some vanilla extract, made to taste like a banana split.

  "Game on," said Jessie, as she got up to go to the bar. Jessie and I sat for about forty minutes before Malia showed up, which was as odd as it was rude--no call or text. Malia and I had the same drive and it was against traffic. It didn't make sense that she was so late. But at least she showed.

  "Hey, sorry I'm late," said Malia, "Traffic got stupid and then I couldn't find the place and when I did, I had to find parking.

  "There's a lot down the street."

  "I saw that but it was full," said Malia, "So I had to go along the water till I found a row of metered spots. I got an hour. I figured because we'll have to leave and go home to get club attire."

  "True that. Malia, this is my long-serving partner in crime, Jessica Jin."

  "Nice to meet you," said Malia.

  "Likewise," said Jessie.

  "What are you guys having?" asked Malia.

  "Harvey Wallbanger," said Jessie.

  "Mine's called an Even Split."

  "I'll go for a Betty Cosmo," said Malia.

  "Haven't had that."

  "You can try mine," said Malia. Malia sat next to Jessie but I could tell Jessie's instincts were kicking in. She didn't like Malia. It was obvious to me but not Malia. One of the pitfalls of being the new girl. You couldn't necessarily read the subtitles. But Malia hung out. She didn't talk too much but she chimed in. She seemed preoccupied. I never spent time with Malia outside work but somehow I figured she'd be more talkative. I mean she wasn't shy about giving presentations, so I figured she'd be somewhat outgoing. Maybe she was just running on fumes because it was Friday. The conversation was light. It wasn't meant to be heavy. We talked about movies and fashion and current events. The conversation didn't go much into guys, mostly because it was two-way. Jessie and I were talking about a few boys from high school because Jessie had bumped into this dude recently. But Malia never chimed in when the subject matter was on guys so the conversation fell flat on that topic. It was about 7:18 pm, when Malia mentioned that we should probably pay up because we had the office thing at Osmi. I told them it was my treat. So I paid. Malia asked Jessie if she wanted to come to the office party at Osmi. Jessie declined saying it was an office party. Malia said she understood, which was great because Jessie had never formally declared that she wasn't coming. I invited her out of friendship, knowing the odds that she would say yes were in the low single-digits.

  Outside it was kisses to both girls. Jessie, I'll call you. Malia, I'll see you at the club. The sun was giving up for good and Nuuanu Ave. looked doused in pink glitter. It reflected on the surface of cars, off of windows and white clothing. Fortunately, I had my back turned to the setting sun so I could walk without my sunglasses. When I got back to the parking lot, I could see my car sitting in the same spot where I parked. But when I saw the car I felt strange. I didn't realize why until I put my hand on the door handle. I realized I just walked through two parking spaces to get to my car. When I looked around the lot, I counted eleven space within eyeshot that were empty. It was odd because Malia said she couldn't find a space, which is why she was late. It didn't appear to me that the lot had ever been so full or perhaps all the empty spots were the spots she couldn't see. Maybe that's why she just drove by.

  I got home at a minute passed 8 pm. I figured I could relax a bit before getting changed because Kapiolani Boulevard was like five minutes away, a bit more with lights and stops included. But late night meant less traffic. I had some TiVo to catch up on and I made myself a smoothie. Watching TV always made me feel like I wasn't worried about anything. It had that atmosphere of just chillin'. I was just kickin' it catching up on American Horror Story, because I'm a weird chick. And that's the kinda programming weird chicks watch. That was my defense mechanism when dealing with dudes, to pretend to be one of those weird Goth chicks. I was at one point but only for about a semester because I realized boys weren't into Goth girls. At least, the boys I was into weren't into Goth girls. And I actually liked to surf in high school. But that was the whole point of being a teenage Goth girl in Hawaii, to tell them all you just didn't give a fuck. That bottled-blonde, sun-tanned, surf-toned beach
babe was the exact opposite of a Goth chick. Goth chicks were dyed black or in my case just let the basic color grow out. They were typically plump or super skinny, not athletic at all. And they were pale as fuck. It was an emphatic statement. Fuck your standard. And that was my pretend mindset. I was just chilling on my sofa with a smoothie and a TiVo episode of AHS. That's not what you'd do if you were anxious about running into your boss because you had hooked up with him. I wasn't in my closet choosing outfits. I wasn't already made up. I was gonna watch my show. After that, it'd be around 9 pm and I'd try to figure out what I was going to wear and shower, maybe even take a nap. I wasn't bothered that I would see Longboard again, fuck that. That was how I tried to handle it.

  The nap came early. I passed out a little bit more than halfway through American Horror Story: Coven episode three. I liked the idea of a group of witches surviving in a world that wasn't witch-friendly. I guess it's why I had thoughts of my high school clique when I woke up. I guess my clique was still together as much as it could be. Jessie and I were besties. But I missed Mallory, Amy and Erin. Like the witches on American Horror Story, I felt a certain safety in numbers. I guess that was the thing I felt in the back of my mind, my safety seemed like it was shifting. I don't know if that made me less safe. But I thought about what would be at the office. If Longboard wasn't interested then what would it be? I guess I felt safe because he needed me for the presentation on Wednesday. He couldn't have fired me right then and there because who could he get to cover for me in less than twelve hours. But I heard stories about some nasty firings. I wasn't around at the exact moment when Brianna, the old office manager, was let go. But I remember one day she seemed like she wasn't really working. And the next day she didn't come back, ever. I didn't see her after that. I thought I might even see her at the Bean Connect. Bean Connect was a local Hawaiian copy of Starbucks. She liked that place. And it was three blocks from the office, so you could technically go there without bumping into anyone from the office, maybe. Brianna wasn't my friend but she liked my working style. We never had any problems.