The dead man, along with Mom's possible health problems, are taking their toll, and I feel like I'm sinking in quicksand. I definitely need to get some sleep tonight. Nick said Mom and Vera will be late. I don't have to wait up if Vera is driving. I'll have to ask Nick about that. Maybe a hot shower and a good night's sleep will help.
We make small talk through the rest of dinner. Mostly Ed and Andy are curious about Aloha Lagoon and Kauai. I'm really glad that Andy came out here. He's definitely one of my favorite relatives. And I need to talk to him about what other problems are hereditary in our family. Maybe that will give me some peace of mind.
I'll have to tell Mom that he's here. She'll be upset when she finds out he's been here a whole day and she didn't know. I'll bring her to the luau tomorrow so she can see him. Mom would like that. As long as she doesn't jump on stage and start hula dancing, we should be okay.
Should.
CHAPTER FIVE
I'm groggy in the morning, in spite of going to bed fairly early. I'm standing with the fridge door open when Mom joins me.
"Did you and Vera have fun?" I ask as I grab the milk and shut the door.
Mom smiles. "Of course we did. We went to that club in Lihue after dinner. What's it called? Ambrosia?"
I almost drop the milk. "You went to Ambrosia? The strip club?"
Mom nods as if this was perfectly normal. "Yes. There was a group of men from California. They were hot!"
I'm not sure how to process this, so I decide not to. I pour the milk on my cereal and add a few blueberries before sitting at the breakfast bar.
"Mom, guess what? Andy is here for a visit," I say as casually as if I was telling her about the mailman making a delivery.
"Really?" Mom's eyes are huge. "Andy? My nephew?"
I nod. "Yup. That's the one. He's staying at the resort with a friend."
Mom stares at me. "When can I see him? Is it a girl? Is he here to get married?"
I imagine Andy and Ed walking down the aisle at the Blue Hawaii Wedding Chapel, dressed as a policeman and postmaster. We've had more bizarre ceremonies.
"No, it's a friend. A guy from home. Edward Hopper."
My mother frowns. "That's strange. I just heard that name not too long ago."
I try really hard not to roll my eyes. "That's the name of the man who died in front of me the other day."
"A man died in front of you?" Mom shouts, mouth open.
This is bad. I wonder if she has Alzheimer's. Then I remember the test and take the banana she's just picked up out of her hand.
"You have a blood test this morning," I say as I toss the banana on the countertop. "Binny should be here any minute to take you."
Mom shrugs. "I guess I'd better take a shower then. Could you make me a daiquiri?"
I shake my head. "No. You have to fast. You can't have anything but water."
Mom laughs. "Don't be silly, Nani. A daiquiri is a drink. Not food." She laughs as she walks down the hall to her room and shuts the door behind her.
I keep an eye on her until Binny picks her up, and then I throw on my favorite muumuu, grab my favorite soprano ukulele, and race to the resort. I don't like being late, but I had to make sure Mom didn't sneak anything to eat before she left.
The beach is one of my favorite spots to give lessons at the resort. About a dozen people of varying ages are standing around me, holding ukuleles they rented in the gift shop or bought somewhere on Kauai. When people check in to the resort, there's a whole folder full of activities in their rooms. This includes shops where they can buy or rent ukuleles. We have some wonderful craftsmen on the island, and the instruments range from beginner to pricey. I'm always thrilled when there are people who want lessons. I enjoy spreading the uke love. How can you not be happy when playing this tiny instrument?
I teach them three chords and then a couple of songs that use those chords exclusively. The lesson goes well, and within an hour, everyone is strumming along to some of the sillier tunes. I've found that since they're on vacation, tourists don't want anything sad or sappy. To them, the ukulele was meant for fun. It's taken me a little while to get a handle on this, but it's totally worth it to see my classes laughing and having a great time. That's the aloha way.
It's a beautiful day of course. The sun sits by itself in the azure sky, and the waves crashing on the beach offer accompaniment. The younger kids always learn faster than the adults. They're naturals when it comes to music. I never worry, because I know they'll go back to their rooms and help their parents. It's the perfect way to forget that there was recently a murder at this very resort.
"Mahalo, everyone!" I thank them at the end of the session. "You were a very easy group to teach! I wish all my students were as quick as you!" It's a scripted line the resort likes me to use, so I do. Mostly because it's a great line and I can't think of anything better.
The folks smile and shout thanks as they hurry off to their scuba or surf lessons. There's a lot to do at Aloha Lagoon. I have no time to enjoy it because I have to get to the luau site in time to perform.
The lunchtime luaus are shorter, easier affairs. Just a little hula dancing, followed by me playing two traditional Hawaiian songs, and a feast that would make you drool. I can smell the roasted pork, but I ignore my rumbling stomach as I find my spot off stage.
Binny has made arrangements to bring Mom and meet Andy and Ed in the lobby. I'd given her some tickets for the event, so they don't need me to be there to get them set up. Nick is going to time his lunch break so he can join them.
I tune my uke and go over my scales to get my head in the game as the dancers warm up. I love to watch. These artists are amazing and never fail to remind me how lucky I am. There was a time in the recent past when all I could get were bar mitzvahs and other parties at area bars. Now that I'm resort staff, things are much better. And I don't have to take requests, which is nice, because if one more person asks me to play "Ukulele Lady," I may actually become the murderer Detective Ray thinks I am. It's not a bad song. It just seems to be the only song tourists know. Well, that and Elvis's "Blue Hawaii."
Two feral chickens run past me toward the stage, as if they've missed their cue. I ignore them. Some time ago, long before I moved here, some typhoon liberated all the kept chickens on Kauai. After the storm, no one bothered to catch them, and the island became known for its scene-stealing poultry. More than one luau has been disrupted by the birds. The tourists love them.
"Here." With a wink, Jules Kekoa, the activities director, hands me a plate lunch before she runs off to handle something else.
Yum. I love the plate lunch. Korean barbecue with macaroni salad and rice create the perfect combination. I gulp it down, attempting to avoid splattering my muumuu with sauce. Peeking from my offstage spot, I see Mom hugging a furiously blushing Andy as Ed looks on in horror—probably worried she'll do that to him next. Maybe I should've warned the policeman.
My set is up next. I watch and mentally run through my music as the hula dancers work through their last dance. I only play two pieces at lunch luaus, and they're always from traditional Polynesian music. I have my favorites, but I try to find something that will keep the audience riveted. Sometimes I sing, but today the resort is trying out a new singer. Allison Tarawa is amazing. We've practiced together a few times, and I have no doubt any performance together will blow minds. The only problem is, where is she?
"Hey, Nani!" a sultry voice says behind me. "Sorry I'm late."
Allison smiles lopsidedly. I can't help but like her. Not a classic beauty—Allison is a little more homely. But when she sings, you could swear she's a goddess. No one knows where she came from. The woman is a bit of a mystery here.
I shake my head. "Not a problem. We're up next."
Allison nods and turns to breathe deeply from her nebulizer. When we first met, the singer explained that she suffers from asthma that is aggravated when she gets a little nervous. She uses the nebulizer as a good luck piece in hopes it will ward off an a
ttack on stage. I'm impressed that the woman can belt out the vocals with constricted airways. She's pretty amazing.
Apparently, Allison moved to Kauai only a week ago. In spite of the short time I've rehearsed and performed with her, you'd think she's been part of the resort's luau for years. I respect that and admire her as an artist. She can take the simplest of songs and turn it into a heart-tugging, gut-wrenching tear fest. And most of the audience doesn't understand the language, but they still are overcome by her voice.
The dancers start squeezing past us, and I give Allison a nod. We are introduced by Juls herself, and I'm grateful. Normally, it's this obnoxious guy who describes me with sappy adjectives like "magical mistress of the ukulele," and worse (once he called me the "perky princess of Polynesian platitudes," so yes, there's worse).
I willingly forget his name, because I loathe him and don't feel he deserves me remembering him. And one day I'll announce him as the "Obnoxious Oaf of…something." Okay, so it's petty.
Mom likes the Oaf and has offered to write intros for him. She says he needs to use a longer string of descriptive words and gave me an example—"Neato Nani Nicepants and her Unctuous Ubiquitous Ukulele." I pretended to give the Oaf that information. Oops.
Allison and I walk out onto the stage and face polite applause. I take my place just off to the singer's left and a foot or so back. My music is supposed to accompany her, not drown her out.
I start to strum, and Allison throws back her head and sings. She truly is hypnotic. I just have to remember to focus on what I'm doing and not get caught up in her voice. We work very well together. It's a natural fit—something I'm very proud of. As I strum the final chord, the audience erupts into loud applause. I nod and then hold my arm out toward the singer, who does the same to me.
"That was wonderful, Nani!" Mom squeals as I take a seat at the table. "You should be playing the big resorts up in Princeville."
I ignore her because she always says that, and I like it here. Sitting with my family and friends, I relax a little. Not that performing makes me tense, because it doesn't. It's just that all that concentration can be tiring.
"The new singer is fantastic!" Binny gushes.
Nick agrees. "So that's Allison, huh?"
"Isn't she amazing? If she could play the ukulele, I'd be out of work."
Nick slides me a piece of cake he's been saving for me, and after a thankful grin, I devour it. Even with the plate lunch, I'm still hungry.
"That was great!" Andy slaps me on the back. "You know, I've never heard you perform. Well, except for that once."
"When was that?" Nick turns to me.
"In the high school talent show," Andy says. "She played some Spanish classical guitar piece, and it was unreal." He beams at me. "Our Nani is the only musician in the family. It's so cool that I'm able to see her play."
I blush. I'm not used to my family praising me. Mostly because a musician wasn't considered a real job back home. A lot of people scratched their heads when I left Felix for Julliard. Some of the neighbors suggested that I just needed a nice guy and a few babies, and one of Dad's friends implied that I might be brain damaged for deciding on a career in music. There are times when I wonder if old Theo Zimmerman was right.
"Any other stories about Nani?" Binny gives a wicked grin. "Preferably embarrassing…"
I lightly kick her under the table. "Nope. I was a perfectly normal kid back home."
Andy smiles but says nothing. Unfortunately, Nick sees it.
"What? You do have a story, don't you?" he begs my cousin.
"Tell them about the time Nani got lost in her own cornfield!" Mom shouts in one of those rare moments when no one is speaking. I swear the other patrons are staring at me.
"I wasn't lost. I was playing hide and seek."
Andy agrees. "That's true, Aunt Harriet. I was with her."
He's lying. I totally got lost in the cornfield. Andy found me and has covered it up ever since.
"Anyway." I try to lead us back to the present. "I can't stay. I've got to swing by the Blue Hawaii Wedding Chapel for a quick meeting with Pastor Dan Presley."
"Is he related to Elvis?" Ed shows some interest.
"Only in his dreams. He had his name legally changed to Presley years ago."
Binny adds, "He's also the island's only Elvis impersonating wedding officiant."
"Is he any good?" Andy asks.
Shaking my head would be disloyal, so I don't answer him. The others can give him details after I leave. I love Pastor Dan. He was the first person to give me a gig when I moved here. I'd do anything for the man.
I stand and give Nick a quick kiss. Binny promises to watch over Mom as she jumps from her seat and begins to hula. To no music. The two chickens from earlier race over to her and start dancing with her. At least she isn't singing.
"If you like a ukulele lady…" Hallie's shrill, off-key voice sings. I flee to the parking lot before Juls figures out I'm related to her.
It's a very short drive to the Blue Hawaii Wedding Chapel, which is the resort's neighbor on the west side. It's not always easy manipulating my schedule so I can perform at these weddings, now that I work at the resort. But my loyalty is strong, and I find the time to make it happen.
The chapel is small and overlooks the ocean. Nick's mother, Vera, hates it, insisting it's not in keeping with the dignified air of the resort. She's always harassing Dan to move out so she can tear it down, but I think that's just some weird game they play. I can't imagine this corner of the island without it.
"What do we have?" I ask Dan as I walk through the door.
Dan is standing inside the doorway, wearing a black velvet Vegas-style Elvis suit with rhinestones everywhere. The reflections from the chandelier catch on them, and it looks like he's exploding into a thousand points of light.
"You're late!" Mary Lou, his assistant, barks at me as she walks down the aisle. "You were supposed to be here five minutes ago!"
Mary Lou isn't my favorite person. Middle-aged with her hair teased and shellacked into the shape of a helmet, she's got a pinched face and a huge crush on Pastor Dan. For the past two years, Mary Lou has tried everything to get Dan to fire me, but he won't. He says it's because I'm good at what I do, but I suspect it's so he won't be left alone with her. Pastor Dan isn't interested in women. At all. But that hasn't stopped Mary Lou, who is probably in denial, just like she is about hair spray.
"It's only a meeting, Mary Lou." Pastor Dan brushes her off.
That's new. Maybe he's getting the guts to fire her. The unlikelihood of that happening is astronomically huge. But a girl can hope, can't she?
The thin horror show of a woman sticks her chin out and stomps off toward the office, mumbling something about plastic flowers. She loves plastic. The picture frames given to the couples who marry here are blue plastic. So is, I suspect, her hair and possibly her brain.
"Sorry about that." Dan winks.
I shrug. "It's no big deal." Especially compared with my current problems. "You know that. So what's up?"
Dan shoots a look toward the office. He doesn't seem to be his usual self, and in fact seems less Elvis-y than normal (which is tough to do in black patent leather boots and fake sideburns that seem to creep down to his knees).
"We have a small problem."
A problem? We don't have problems. Everything is always wonderful at the Blue Hawaii Wedding Chapel. Anything goes to the point that you can create the wedding of your dreams. Pastor Dan doesn't believe in problems and is always confident that everything will go as planned. Judging by the lack of fabric in some of his Elvis costumes (the short-shorts from '50s Elvis in particular)…perhaps too confident.
"How can I help?"
I mean it. I adore Pastor Dan. He's like my father, except gay and a bit obsessed with the King. I mean it when I say I'll do anything for him. In fact, I tolerate Mary Lou because of him.
"I have two couples from the mainland who want to do a double wedding," he says.
>
"Okay…" I'm not sure where he's going with this because we've done this many times before.
"They want to have animals involved." He looks so serious I can't help but laugh.
"How is that more bizarre than some of the other requests we've had?"
You wouldn't believe some of the ceremonies we've had here. I won't go into details, but let's just say that Pastor Dan's costumes and Elvis impersonation aren't the weirdest part sometimes. Also, two words: giant snails.
"Mary Lou has threatened to quit if we allow it," Dan says and slumps, as if it took a lot out of him to say this.
"She's threatened to quit before…" I start to say.
He interrupts. "She's serious about it this time."
We stare at each other for a moment. I can't figure out what the real problem would be that would make a woman with matrimonial designs on Pastor Dan quit. Mary Lou believes that someday she will marry Dan and he will make her partner. I'm not sure why she believes this because he corrects her every time she says so. He's even stated that when he dies, the chapel goes to me. Of course, he's kidding. But it infuriates her.
"Well…" I draw my words out to give my brain a chance to catch up with my mouth. "Then you could hire someone else. Someone who won't be so difficult to work with."
He shakes his head sadly, and I'm now concerned. Does he really want to keep that woman here? She's a huge pain in the neck. But he's not talking. Maybe I've misread his relationship with her all this time. Maybe he really likes having her around. I try something else.
"Okay, then what's so weird about this double wedding that would make her quit?"
Pastor Dan looks around again, as if Mary Lou might be on the verge of appearing out of nowhere. I wouldn't put it past her. Sometimes she spies on me from the closet. She thinks I don't know that, but the loathing fog that descends over the chapel is pretty hard to ignore.
"They want to have snakes. Big snakes."
I attempt to suppress a shudder. "Well, that's new."
Ukulele Deadly Page 5