by Kay Hadashi
“In case we need to leave in a hurry?” she asked.
“In case I need to bail you out of jail later.”
Maile and Annie had formed something of an alliance, or at least a meeting of minds, over what was going to happen in the club. Once they were in, Maile pushed through the crowd, making way for Annie to follow. At one point, a man at a crowded table asked Annie for another round of beers.
“What?”
“Another round, if you’re able to in your condition.” He snorted a chuckle while his tablemates laughed.
Annie took off the apron she was still wearing from the bar and threw it in his face. “Get your own…”
Maile pulled her away. “We have a bigger agenda than those guys.”
Once she spotted Robbie at a table with a woman across the room, Maile stopped and kept Annie back. She pointed at her husband seated with the redhead.
“That’s the Robbie I’m thinking of,” Maile said
“That jerk. I gave him that shirt for his birthday!”
“He told me he bought the shirt himself. You have good taste.”
“In clothes, but not in men, I guess.”
Maile could tell her partner was looking more at the woman Robbie was with than at him. What the two of them were doing at the table was somewhere between flirtation and foreplay. As mad as Maile had been for weeks, she felt let down by him all over again. “Is that the booze sales rep he does business with?”
“I’m gonna…”
Maile restrained Annie. “Let me go talk to him first. Then you go over when I’m done.”
The simple plan was tenuous at best. There were no guarantees Annie would stay put or not freak out. When Maile went to their table, she stopped a full step back. “Hello, Robbie.” She looked at his date, realizing she didn’t know her name. “I’m Maile, Robbie’s wife.”
The date looked from Maile to Robbie, her smile drifting away as their hands unclasped. “What the…”
Annie arrived just then, shaking with anger. “And that makes me the pregnant mistress!”
Maile knew it was time for her to go, and that pregnant Annie would do a much better job of making an angry scene than she could. Outside, a gentle rain had started. She found Brock looking at his phone under a window awning. His police scanner was turned up so he could hear it.
“Where’s your friend?” he asked.
“Having a couples therapy session with Robbie and his other girlfriend. She’ll be along in a minute.” Maile couldn’t help but feel pleased with herself right then. “Anything else going on in Honolulu this evening?”
“The two of you are the main event. Ota has been looking for you at your apartment and at your mother’s house.”
“What’s he want?”
“I don’t know.” He put his phone away. “Do you work in the morning?”
“Not till noon, why?”
“Give him a call first thing.”
Annie came running down the sidewalk toward them, or at least it was a fast waddle. “We should go. Like, right now.”
The three of them crowded into his truck, and he left before they could get their seatbelts fastened. “Is everything okay back there?”
“No one’s bleeding, if that’s what you’re worried about. But Maile, I wouldn’t call him for a while.”
“Done with Robbie,” Maile muttered, as she looked out the window at the glistening wet streets.
Once Annie was dropped off at the pub, Maile and Brock watched as she went directly to her car and drove off.
“I hope she’s going home and not back to the club,” Brock said. He got his pickup started and drove off.
Maile was glad when she saw the direction they were going was back to her place. “I was wondering what happened back at the nightclub. At least I found out where the bar profits are going.”
“I don’t know about that, but you realize you just created a single mother, right?” he asked.
“Is that any worse than being together with…him?”
“I still don’t know what happened between you and him,” he said.
“Long story short, I discovered a while back that Robbie had been playing around behind my back, even while we were still together and pretending to be happy. Annie is six months pregnant, but Robbie and I have been separated for only three. You do the math.”
“Doesn’t add up so well. But why did we go to that nightclub? Who was there?”
“The woman Robbie has been seeing behind Annie’s back, the local booze vendor.”
“Ouch.”
“No kidding. I thought it was time for the three of us to meet each other.”
“That’s pretty dirty,” Brock said, chuckling.
“That’s what women do to men when they piss us off.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“We’re even meaner to other women.”
Brock parked at the curb in front of Maile’s apartment building. “Don’t forget to call Detective Ota in the morning.”
“Yeah, what’s he want to talk to me about?”
“Probably the Swenberg investigation.”
“I’ve already told him everything I know about it.”
“If the police department had a dime for every time a witness told us that,” he said.
A romantic moment was setting in, with the dark interior and rain pattering on the windows. Maile knew the time had come to make a decision. She could give him a kiss on the cheek and leave him, or simply just leave him. She decided to delay.
“Sorry about the crummy date. All you did was drive around a couple of angry women, and all you got out of it was a glass of beer. Didn’t even get to finish it.”
“Yes, two almost-dates. One in Hawaii Kai, the other bringing a guy to his knees.”
“Maybe three times the charm?” she offered.
“I have Friday off.”
“I’m in court in the morning and have tours in the afternoon that day. What about the weekend?”
“Why are you in court?”
“Board of Licensing hearing. Last step before getting my RN license fully reinstated.”
“And once that happens, you’ll be able to work again?” he asked.
“I still would need to get rehired. I’ll probably have to start all over again somewhere else.”
“Good luck with it.”
She gave him a polite smile. “Thanks.”
“You want me to walk you in?”
“The landlady would freak if she saw you in the building with me. Then tomorrow I’d get a lecture about no men in my room after dark, and that would turn into a speech about how the building used to be such a nice place to live in the old days, and that would become a therapy appointment about how her family never comes to visit her. The thing about that is, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have any family.”
“I’ll let you sort all that out on your own.”
Feeling her stomach grumble for food as she watched Brock drive off, she wondered if anything in her fridge was still edible. Instead of risking that, she went to an all-night convenience store nearby.
When she got back to her room, Maile discovered a phone message from her lawyer, Emily. It was important that Maile call her back as soon as possible.
“Great. Maybe they’ve cancelled the hearing for Friday and have decided to give back my license.” When she called, it sounded like she woke up Emily. “Did I call too late?”
“Not at all. There’s a development, though. The hospital wants to meet with you Friday afternoon as soon as the hearing is done downtown.”
“That’s great, right? They want to streamline the rehire process. I should be back to work as soon as…”
“Hold on, Maile. There are no guarantees with either one.”
“What else could it be? Other than an apology from the administration. Is there any way we can ask for back pay?”
“Let’s not push our luck. Getting your job back and your career under way again is our top priority.
”
“You know, I won’t be able to pay you for a few weeks. My first paycheck needs to go to rent and groceries. I don’t have many cupboards around here, but I’m tired of seeing them bare.”
They worked out a timeline for Maile to pay her legal bill, and shared a few celebratory thoughts that involved a future bottle of wine.
***
On Thursday, Maile had an all-day tour to the Polynesian Cultural Center on the windward side of the island. Concerned about the weather, she took her umbrella when she left home. It never got cold at sea level in the tropics, but it wasn’t much fun getting wet if she didn’t have to. That didn’t mean her guests would have umbrellas, and if they didn’t she wouldn’t be able to use hers in front of them.
She met Lopaka at the Manoa Tours office, who was just finishing one last inspection of the tour van. She handed over the usual bag of snacks and drinks for the van’s cooler.
“Big group today,” he said. “I get the idea they’re wealthy. This could be a good day for tips.”
“I hope so, because I just spent the last of my grocery money on snacks for them.”
For maybe the first time ever to see it on him, Lopaka frowned. “Tomorrow’s your hearing with the license people, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
“Today’s your last day of work as a guide with me, then?”
“You know it, brah.”
“Gonna miss working with you,” he said hugging her.
“I was never much of a tour guide, we both know that.”
“Not that. Gonna miss working with our island kamali’i-wahine.”
“Not much of a princess, either,” she said. “Give me a couple minutes while I go in and quit.”
Lopaka smiled slyly. “You mean give Thomas a piece of your mind?”
“That, too.”
Thomas looked miserable when Maile saw him at his desk. He was leaned back in his chair, just staring at his computer screen. Finally, his eyes pivoted to look at her.
“You had to do that to Robbie?”
“He did it to himself, and you know it, Thomas. Hopefully, one of these days, he’ll figure out for himself that he can’t play around behind women’s backs. Even though we’ve been cheated on, we tend to stick together.”
“Not that. Why can’t you help him out with the pub?”
“Me? Why me? I have no money. Both of you know that.”
“What do you do with yours?”
“My what?”
“Profits from the bar!”
Maile put her hands up in surrender. “Look, Thomas, I sunk every last dime I was making as a nurse into that bar, other than pay our rent at the condo and pay our bills. I never got a dime back. You go ask him where all that money went.”
“Bars are expensive, Mai.”
“Especially when there’s an idiot managing it while dating the booze sales rep.”
“What about the money I’ve been paying you?”
Maile laughed at him. “Dude, really? You barely pay me enough to cover my rent at the cheapest place on the island. Anything left over goes to my brother’s college tuition, and maybe a few groceries. You really think I have some sort of nest egg bank account?”
“He’s gonna have to close the bar.”
Maile crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t care.”
“It’s all he’s got.”
“And again, I don’t care.”
“He’ll have to get a job, Maile.”
Maile laughed out loud. “Oh my god! Robbie Smith will have to work? At a real job? With someone else telling him what to do? Oh my god!”
“And I don’t have the money to bail him out. I can’t buy his bar. I couldn’t even keep it going as a silent partner,” Thomas said.
“Well, maybe it’s coming around full circle.”
“What is?”
“Why can’t Robbie take whatever he gets from the sale of the bar and invest it in Manoa Tours? The two of you could be partners here. He could even be an employee, one of your guides.”
“I don’t need any more guides. I can barely keep you and Christy busy.”
“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot to tell you. The reason I came in here today was because this is my last day.” She reminded him about the hearing to get her nursing license back the next morning, and then the meeting in the afternoon at the hospital. “Both of those are simply formalities. None of that should matter to you, though. All you have to do is have my pay in cash in an envelope ready when I get back to the office by the end of today. Just like always.”
“Your payday, as agreed in the contract we both signed, is every Friday. This is only Thursday.”
Maile leaned both her hands on his desk and looked directly into his eyes. “Don’t mess with me, brah. All my pay in the envelope, when I get back from the tour.”
“Or what?”
She reached forward and got his cheek pinched between her finger and thumb. “Or I take it out of your hide.”
He swatted her hand away. “Okay, whatever.”
Maile stood again. “And you can tell Robbie he can shove his bar where the sun don’t shine, and as far as your junky little business, you can put that in the same place. I’m done with both of you.”
“The feeling’s mutual!” he shouted after her as she left the office behind.
“What was that all about?” Lopaka asked, as they climbed into the van.
“I told him what I thought he could do to improve his business.”
***
The problem with taking a tour to the Polynesian Cultural Center was that Maile hadn’t been there since she was a teenager, when her mother took Maile and her brother for a day trip. It had been a splurge of an outing, and they had taken the earliest bus to spend as much time as possible. At one point, when their mother found a place to sit in the shade with lemonade, Maile went one direction while Kenny went elsewhere.
There was only one show she had wanted to see that time, and that had been at the Hawaiian Village, where her hula halau teacher worked as a dancer. She didn’t have a ticket to get in to watch the show, but she’d heard a rumor about a corner of shrubs where, if someone was sneaky enough and no one was around to notice, they could watch the show unnoticed by peeking through branches and leaves. She’d been in luck that day, being able to catch her hula teacher perform the same dance that Maile was learning during her classes. Watching it outdoors with the steady breeze and thrumming drums was the way it was meant to be witnessed, and Maile had been thrilled. At least until she was caught by a security guard, and was promptly hustled away.
It had been three years since she’d been to her old halau, ever since the wedding. She got as much spiritual development from hula as she did by going to church. While one kept her close to her ancestors, the other provided lessons on how to live her life. Both had been sorely lacking lately. Now that she was on the cusp of divorce, she knew it was time to go back to both. With that plan in mind for the near future, she led her tour group through the large, private park.
She had studied enough about the park and had the map of the place mostly put to memory, making her sound like an expert as she led the group. At each village, Samoa, Tonga, Marquesas, and all the others from around the vast Polynesian Islands, she gave a chat about the daily way of life, along with a legend. When they eventually got to the Hawaiian Village, she got the surprise that they all had tickets for the show. Somehow, she’d been neglected, and she didn’t have enough money to buy one on the spot. She didn’t mind too much, since it gave her the chance for a rest in the shade.
The two families that made up her tour group that day had been quiet, but to her, that was enjoyable for her last day as a guide. She didn’t mind a few questions, but sometimes the questions she fielded from guests were either a little too personal, or she just didn’t have the answer. Knowing it was her last tour of her short guiding career, she sat back and listened to the drumming of bare feet on a wooden stage, while hula dancers performed.<
br />
Sipping her soda, she checked for messages on her phone. Only one had come in, from Detective Ota. With no way to ruin her best mood in ages, she called him back.
“What’s all the noise?” he asked.
“Drums. I’m at the Cultural Center.”
“That place still the same?”
“Similar enough to the last time I was here years ago. Did you call for a reason? Because I haven’t heard from you or Officer Turner in a couple of days.”
“Feeling neglected?”
“Not really. Do you have news on Swenberg?”
“Not yet. I called about something else. Remember your friend, Prince Aziz?”
“Not my friend,” she hissed. “What about him? Is he in prison yet?”
“Not yet. That’s going to be determined starting tomorrow.”
“What happens tomorrow?” she asked.
“His trial starts in the morning. It’s been all over the TV news. Biggest thing going on in the Honolulu court system right now.”
“I don’t have a TV. But good for him,” Maile said. “Or good for the rest of us if he goes to prison.”
“There’s more. The US District Attorney in Honolulu needs to talk to you about something, but didn’t have your direct number. Okay if I give it to her?”
“Okay with me, if it puts the Prince in prison a little faster.”
Chapter Eleven
Maile waited all evening for a call from a lawyer from the federal court system, but it never came. Wanting to get a decent night of sleep before her license hearing in the morning, she turned off her light, turned her fan to its lowest setting, and went to bed. Just as her mind was easing into its first dream of the night, her phone rang with a call from an unknown number. Answering, she found it was from the secretary to the US Attorney, an officious woman named Donna Wright with a nasal tone to her voice.
“How can I help you, Donna?” Maile asked once the pleasantries were over.
“Please, it’s Miss Wright.”
“I’m sure you are. Is there something I can do for you? Detective Ota from HPD said to expect a call.”
“Yes, you’re a little hard to get a hold of. I tried your office several times but you were never there, and the gentleman I spoke to today said you no longer work for him.”