Hawaii Five Uh-Oh

by Z. A. Maxfield

  Theo said, “Mahalo, Pia. I can’t wait.” He let them all take turns greeting him. Pregnant stepsister-in-law Hinata, his stepbrothers Jared and Grayson, stepsister Alice. Stepfather Gary said, “Welcome home, Theophilus. You’ve made your mother very happy by coming back.”

  Finally, he faced his mother. “Hello, Mother.”

  When she didn’t move, her husband prompted, “Iwalani? Your son has come home.”

  The moment drew out. Childish tantrums, unmade phone calls, unsent greeting cards, and all his ill-conceived resentment flooded back. He’d taken sides. Left with his dad. Regret clogged the air between them. She said nothing. She simply took him in her arms, and wept.

  Chapter Two

  WHETHER IT was the humidity or the job pressure, Theo got lots of headaches in his first few weeks in Hawai‘i. They started behind his eyes as soon as his alarm went off in the morning and faded in and out all day. They grew acute if he got hungry or overly tired.

  That morning, his shower had helped, as did coffee and a quick trip to the gym. He’d had a little struggle on the phone, trying to get some physical paperwork routed from his mainland bank, but it didn’t take up too much time. He’d purchased a secondhand motorcycle, which proved wise, because parking was never guaranteed, and the traffic—so much worse than he remembered.

  He developed a routine with his new partner, Calista. He had a great deal more experience, but she had seniority in the department, which made things awkward between them. On top of that, in this day of realizing women resented the hell out of things men had been saying and doing forever, he was on the fence about even asking if she was married, something he wouldn’t hesitate to ask a male colleague. Even when they walked the beat, every couple hours, some asshole guy tried to get Calista’s digits. No matter how professional she acted, she lived on the defensive.

  So when she’d asked about his weekend, he’d answered that it was nice and he left out details. He’d asked her about her favorite restaurants. And they’d talked about places he remembered from when he was a kid and how they’d changed. That was about it. When she rounded on him with an angry glare, she finally surprised him.

  “All right, that’s it. I get that you feel shafted considering you’re practically an old-timer, and here you are, stuck with me—”

  “Whoa.” He made the classic sign for time-out, but she ignored him.

  “I’m so sorry you feel like it’s beneath you to walk a beat with a girl, but I like to be civil with my partners.” She crossed her arms over her lithe athletic frame. “So let’s start again. My name is Calista Andersen. I started with the Honolulu PD two years and three months ago. Aloha.”

  “Aloha, Calista.” He didn’t have a clue what to do with his hands, so he jammed one out to shake. She took it. Hers was neat and unmanicured. She wore a diving watch. “It’s a pleasure to walk a beat with you. I don’t know how you got the idea I don’t—”

  “Right. Because that glowering you do all shift makes for such a refreshing work atmosphere.”

  He frowned. “Glowering?”

  “You do this”—she made an unusually unflattering face—“all the time when you look at me.” She looked like she was ready to punch him. “What is it? Don’t trust a girl?”

  “I have never made that face.” He held his hands up. “Honest.”

  “You never talk to me. It’s like an echo chamber inside my head.”

  He lifted a brow. “You can’t blame me for that.”

  She did cuff his arm then. “You know what I mean.”

  Apparently he’d been so concerned with decorum he wasn’t being friendly enough. “You want to tell me anything, go ahead. You want to ask me something, have at. I just don’t want to pry, or nothing. I’m being civil. Letting you set the tone. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine.”

  Obviously, though, it wasn’t. Silence descended between them again.

  They got a smattering of rain that morning. It brought the smell of tire rubber and urine up from the streets. Eucalyptus, too, was spicy on the breeze. Toward the end of their shift, he stopped to look at a store window. A leather jacket caught his eye, but it seemed impractical in the heat. Still, he glanced at the sign and made a note to come back sometime when he wasn’t working.

  “Detective Palapiti wears a jacket like that,” she said. “Somebody said you and he were related?”

  “Who said?”

  “Taryn, Detective Bradshaw. She’s a friend of mine. Hangs out with Koa and them.”

  “No, we’re not related.” Good thing too. “Next-door neighbor, though. When we were kids, that was like being related.”

  “I used to date one of the detectives. It’s like going out with a ghost who texts every so often to say, ‘Something came up, sorry.’”

  “If Taryn catches a major crime, she’ll stand you up too. At least you’ll know it’s not… personal.”

  “Where did you work last? Michigan?”

  “Wisconsin.” He told her about Bear Lake and the cold and some of the crazy shit that happened. “And once, my patrol car got stuck under a statue of Babe the Blue Ox and I nearly froze to death before anyone found me. All in a day’s work.”

  “Can’t say that’s gonna happen here.”

  “Why do you think I moved here?”

  When they got back to the station, she asked him if he wanted to join her and her friends for a beer at a local bar called Eddie’s Place. “Icebreaker. C’mon. No man is an island.”

  He hesitated briefly. His old reticence when it came to coworkers almost got the better of him. The old Theo never let things get personal.

  Start as you mean to go on. “A’ight.”

  INSIDE THE grim little bar, he let his eyes adjust to the darkness. In the background, canned sultry piano played. The ambiance consisted of bluish light cast from TVs that played nonstop news on every screen. If people wanted to dance, they had to play a song from the jukebox. The sound was bearable, and the playlist? He hadn’t been around long enough to know whether it was supposed to be retro or if they hadn’t changed the tunes since the eighties.

  The owner kept things dimly lit, the walls were still amber from when people smoked inside, and right now, a terrorist attack in London, hurricanes in the Gulf of Mexico, fires on the US West Coast, and a bank robbery right here at home were playing simultaneously on the big screens. Hell was popping out all over. No wonder they played the news. Nothing could drive a first responder to drink faster.

  A group of men and women gathered in the corner, and he recognized most of them from the station. Koa was there, along with Detective Freddie Ortiz. On any other job, being invited to join some group for a drink would be a signal he was finding acceptance. This might be a pissing contest to see if he fit in.

  “Hey, Theo.” Koa’s words were more of an acknowledgment of his presence than a welcome.

  “Hey.” Theo sat between Calista and her friend Taryn. Koa’d been talking, but the conversation stopped when they sat down.

  “How are you settling in?” Koa had to raise his voice.

  “Just fine.” Theo answered. “Same job, better weather.”

  Koa didn’t pursue it. Well, they couldn’t really talk without shouting over people’s heads. He looked like he might have had a drink or two, and he was fine AF. Black eyes, golden brown skin. Tattoos covered one shoulder and upper arm. The rest disappeared beneath a well-fitting tank top. The leather jacket Theo had been admiring in the window was draped over the back of his chair.

  Theo leaned back to get a look at Koa’s legs. Denim. And motorcycle boots. Jesus, the boy next door was fine. Holy mother.

  It took him a couple seconds to realize Koa returned his look. He startled guiltily, then let his eyes drink their fill.

  A bump to his arm caught his attention, and he turned to find Calista holding two beers.

  She handed him one. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” He offered to pay, but she turned him down.

 
; “You’re entirely welcome.” She touched her bottle to his and took a long drink. “Good to finally meetcha, stranger.”

  “Nice to meet you too.” Theo took a grateful drink. “Look, about me not talking—”

  “Eventually you won’t be able to help yourself, because I’m an open book.” She proved it by shooting a longing glance at Detective Freddie Ortiz. “So, how well do you know Koa?”

  He rested his arms on the table. “We were tight until I moved away. He was a skinny, sick, runty guy, even back then. An awesome partner in crime, but I had to save his ass every other day. You know how it is with the tender ones….”

  Her eyes widened like she believed him, but no. “Palapiti was never a kid. They carved him out of a rock.”

  “Swear to God. Until I left the islands, he was an actual kid.”

  She smiled. “Ortiz is Koa’s partner in crime these days.”

  “Don’t know him yet.” He’d met Ortiz at the gym, but it hadn’t been fun.

  She then made a fool out of him by introducing him around, making everyone say their names in order—it was a stupid thing, and he went last and barely remembered anyone’s name. They clapped him on the back and welcomed him to the department. All except Koa, who got up and got himself another beer before sitting back and brooding. Brooding was a good look on him. But he’d learned impassivity. He had a cop’s face now. It was going to take more than a beer and a casual meetup to break through that shit.

  “Come with me?” Theo mouthed. He let his body language indicate the back door, miming the sign for smoke. He tilted his head and walked toward the back of the bar.

  Koa caught up to him before he got very far. “You mom’s gonna fuck your shit up if she finds out you smoke.”

  Theo didn’t smoke habitually, but sometimes he dug a Djarum Black cigarillo because they reminded him of his dad. The bar had filled up, and a smoke was an excuse for some air. An ironic excuse.

  He pushed through the door behind the restrooms, jabbed a rolled-up newspaper in the jamb to keep it slightly ajar despite the Keep Locked sign, and lit one up.

  First smoke in a while. He took a deep breath and let the unaccustomed rush hit him. It tingled in the tips of his fingers and toes.

  “That’s your blood circulation being cut off, Dad.”

  “I know it, but it feels good. And cloves. They smell like Christmas. Tell me you don’t love the smell of cloves.”

  “They’re gonna kill you.”

  “They’re not gonna kill me.”

  Theo’d always hated it when his dad was right.

  “Oh, Theo.” As if he’d heard Theo’s thoughts, Koa closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “That smell brings back so many memories.”

  Theo offered Koa one, but he shook his head. “Can’t do that shit. Don’t want to lose my edge.”

  “You have an edge?”

  Theo wasn’t hooked like his old man. He could take the smokes or leave them. He couldn’t afford to lose his wind either, especially now that he was chasing people on foot a lot more often, so maybe he did it once or twice a month. Usually like this, outside bars, when he was hooking up. It was the perfect crutch. Something to do with his hands, something to keep him from grabbing Koa Palapiti around his neck and dragging him in for a kiss so filthy he’d never forget it.

  “Te?” Soft and provocative, Koa’s voice sweetened the air. How he wished he could tell Koa the whole truth. Taste those words on his and Koa’s tongues together. Above their heads, a security light seemed to spit and flicker. Koa grinned and stepped forward. “You haven’t called. How come?”

  “You haven’t called me either.” Oh yeah. Now Theo smelled not only Koa’s cologne but the slightly aroused sweat beneath it. His scent was sharp. Pungent. Theo, who liked men and liked fighting and fucking and sweat, got a fizzy, almost electric charge out of it.

  He said, “You smell fucking good, Woodie.”

  Koa, whose once racy nickname came from Koa wood—that specialty lumber from the Acacia tree found all over the Hawai‘ian Islands—whispered, “Subtle.”

  “Not known for it,” Theo admitted.

  When the door burst open behind him, he had to leap out of the way.

  “Special K.” Freddie dislodged his makeshift doorstop when he emerged from the wedge of inside light. When he then let the door go, it pistoned closed behind him with a sigh, and probably locked. Great.

  Theo’d encountered Freddie a few times at the gym, and so far he wasn’t impressed. Freddie was one of those guys who didn’t like hearing that anyone else might have some skill, or probably he didn’t even like puppies, because he was just that guy.

  So when Theo’s old coach praised Theo, welcome back, hometown boy makes good, and all that, of course Freddie Ortiz had to try to take him down a notch. He’d gotten in a lucky—some would say dirty—punch the last time they’d sparred.

  “You ready?” he asked Koa. “We gotta bounce.”

  “No.” The two of them stared at each other for a few seconds during which Ortiz made a long, thorough perusal of Theo’s body. Koa sighed. “Wait for me inside, O.”

  “But you said we were going an hour ago.”

  “That’s one, Fred.” Koa narrowed his eyes at his partner. Friend? Lover? Hard to tell. “Do as I say.”

  Theo did a double take. “Didn’t know you had kids, Palapiti. Past his bedtime?”

  Ortiz leaned against the jamb. “I ain’t sleeping tonight, brah. Maybe you will, huh? Tucked away in your bedroom in your mommy’s nice little—”

  “Shut up, O.” The muscles in Koa’s neck strained visibly. “You’re on two.”

  Fascinated, Theo watched them. He’d never seen them interact up close, but obviously they had a thing. Disappointment probably sketched flags of hot color on his cheeks when he met Koa’s gaze again. Something flickered there, some apology or protest, but then it died.

  “I’ll be there in a sec,” Koa reiterated.

  “Why bother with Hsu, man?” Ortiz seemed to resent this more, because he wasn’t done mouthing off. “You know you ain’t getting what you pay for there.”

  Theo’d had enough. He went for Ortiz. “That’s the third—”

  “Nope.” Koa’s arm came out to clothesline him. It was like steel; he couldn’t budge it. “Stand down, Theo. Freddie’s an asshole, but he’s mine, and I’ll deal with him. He owes me five now. Good ones.”

  “Five?” Freddie let out a snort of disbelief.

  “With a cane.” The words drew serious energy from the lack of emotion with which Koa said them. “Every violation comes with a price, O.”

  Theo shivered. His dick—which had shriveled with outrage at Freddie’s arrival—now grew like the Grinch’s heart. Was Koa serious? Was he actually interested in caning people? Theo would’ve asked right goddamn then and there, but Koa had already dismissed him. The expression on his face, while mild, boded ill for whatever part of Freddie the cane was gonna land on.

  “Kekoa Palapiti’s a kinkhound.” Theo waited for Koa to turn to him before adding sweetly, “You think you know a guy.”

  Koa only smiled, but oh, a smile like that was probably against the law in all fifty states and the territories. A smile like that could get a guy in deep, deep trouble.

  Too bad Theo welcomed trouble these days. He invited it in.

  Chapter Three

  BENEATH SOFT tropical moonlight, paradise spread out before Theo like an expensive hotel buffet. He sat on a boulder with his mother, watching the waves hurl themselves onto the shore, at the mercy of a warm, strong wind. About fifty feet below the overhang that hid them, tidal pools churned against the rocks in foamy luminescence. The surge of each wave was bright, the sea a blank black mirror beyond it.

  The house was noisy but familiar. Alice, Raul, Pia, and Antonia lived with his mother and stepfather. The rest of the family was constantly coming and going. He’d enjoyed the weeks he’d spent with them, but as much as he loved them, he needed to move out. Sometimes livi
ng with so many people left him drained. That’s when he went to the bluffs to meditate with the sound of the sea as a backdrop—with the added bonus that sometimes dancers practiced in the lagoon below.

  Those nights, the chants and drumming helped him transcend his earthly problems.

  The air smelled of seagrass and ginger and the compost from his mother’s garden. Toads cracked the peace with their awful chatter. He’d learned to tune them out so he could meditate there most evenings without feeling any pull from the real world, but he’d been aware for some time that his mom was beside him, quietly waiting. He’d made arrangements for a furnished studio nearby. He only had to tell his mother he was ready to go. He did not look forward to it.

  On the shore, by torchlight, a school of dancers worked out, and among them, Koa. Special K. How perfect. He literally made Theo’s heart race and his breathing uneven….

  “You’re watching Kekoa, huh?” Mom asked shrewdly. “You get a chance to hang out yet?”

  “Not much.” He glanced down at the snack she’d brought him. Spam musubi. Guilty pleasure, but the salt was gonna kill him. He had to move out. His mother was determined to feed him like he was in high school, when he played rugby and competed in martial arts, except now he preferred a more austere diet.

  Fresh food, cooked simply. He could be eating delicious fish, fruits, and vegetables, but it was hard to convince his mom his tastes had changed. She still made whipped cream faces on his pancakes.

  “Koa looks like a gangster now.” To her, anyone with piercings looked like a gangster. “But he’s still the boy you know.”

  “He dresses that way for work.” Koa went undercover sometimes, but Theo would bet his bike Koa dressed like a badass because he dug it. He looked hot. He had the tats, the piercings. He looked nothing like the boy Theo’d shared shave ice with as a kid.

  “You gonna eat?” his mother asked.

  “Sure, thanks.” Theo tore his mind off Koa while he unwrapped his food.