“Aloha, little brother,” said Kamehaloha. “I saw the Scoundrel docked at slip number thirteen, so I knew you were back in town.”
“It was quite a trip,” said Julian.
“I see you made it through Wili-Wili.”
“Thanks for the note,” said Julian.
“And how is my ship sailing?” Kong wanted to know.
“Well, I had a little trouble with the carburetors, you know. But I managed to re-jet the intake valves with some spare parts I came upon, and now the engines are running better than ever.”
Kamehaloha smiled. “So, what’s next?” said Kong as he sipped his juice.
“First off,” said Julian, “I’m giving the Scoundrel back to you, Kamehaloha.”
“I can’t refund your money, brother.”
“I think I got more than my money’s worth,” said Julian. “The Scoundrel took me places no other boat could have taken me.”
“Are you certain you want to give it up?” Kong asked.
“I’ve decided to go back to California,” Julian related.
“Oblivion in California!” screamed BV.
Kong laughed heartily at the bird’s assessment. He turned to Julian and asked, “What are you going to do with him? The Department of Agriculture will never allow you to export a parrot.”
“My one regret,” said Julian. “I was hoping that Song would keep him here at the Sunrise.”
“Where’s Julian?” called BV. “Electra is running on line. Will repeat. Will repeat...”
Song also laughed at the bird’s antics. “Buenaventura will always have a home here,” the Filipina promised.
“Life at the Sunrise... What a Paradise!” proclaimed BV.
“When are you leaving, Julian?” Kamehaloha asked.
“I fly home day after tomorrow,” Julian informed.
“You won’t forget us, here at the Sunrise...”
“No chance of that,” said Julian. “And just so you won’t forget me, I had this photo of myself taken. I’d be honored, Song, if it hung here at the Sunrise right next to Kamehaloha’s picture.”
“Thanks, Julian,” said Song. “I’ll hang it up right now.”
Hammer and tack in hand, Song noticed that Julian had written a rather curious caption at the bottom of the 8X10 black and white photograph. It read:
“Paradise... Just when we think it’s within our grasp, the scene changes, integrity dissolves; and only fundamentals remain.”
THE DAY after Julian left for California, Tamara Sly walked into the Sunrise Cafe. From his perch in the rafters BV called out, “Tamara Sly! Tomorrow’s lie”
“Where did he come from?” the beach girl wanted to know.
Song winked at BV. “Julian Crosby showed up a few days ago and left him here. I foolishly agreed to adopt him.”
“Where is Julian staying? On board the Scoundrel?”
“No, he gave the cruiser back to Kamehaloha. Julian went back to California,” said Song.
“Too bad I missed him. I would have liked to wish him well,” said Tamara. She ordered her usual passion fruit cocktail and sat down at the counter. Her sarong fell away from her bare thigh. “Where’s Kamehaloha?” she asked.
“He’s down at the small boat launch adjusting the carburetors on the Scoundrel’s engines,” said Song. “I think he means to sell it. Again!”
“Oh,” said Tamara. “Well, when you see him, tell him there’s a haole in town looking for him...”
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