Haole Wood

by DeTarsio, Dee

“Then why are you polluting it,” he raised his voice, “with ketchup? Do you know where you are? You are not at some Der Weinerschnitzel.”

  “Chef, I mean no disrespect. It’s fabulous. That’s fine, I don’t need ketchup.” I took a bite to prove my point. “Sorry. Don’t worry.” I tried to wave him away.

  “It’s good, she says,” he lifted his hands, “but it could use something else?” He grabbed the towel at his waist and wrung it out, as if he wished it were my neck. That gesture reminded me of something. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but a few lonely brain cells of mine were rolling around like marbles on the floor, sounding an alarm.

  “Chef,” Jac interrupted. “Please give us the ketchup. We all have individual tastes. You are embarrassing us.” The chef stomped back to the kitchen, as Jac stood up and reached to take the bottle of ketchup out of the waiter’s hands. He presented it to me as if it were a vintage bottle of Beaujolais.

  “Merci,” I said. I wanted to crawl into the huge aquarium back in the Humuhumu cocktail lounge. That would probably be less offensive that my treasonous act. Jac shook the bottle, unscrewed the cap and gently tilted it at a forty-five degree angle, hovering it over my plate.

  “Say when.”

  “Thanks, Jac. I didn’t mean to cause a scene. I don’t need the ketchup. I’m not an addict.”

  “Oh, honey. You’re eating it, and I’m trying it.” Oblivious to the other diners, he waggled his fork over my plate and took a small bite.

  “Save some for the rest of us,” I said.

  “Fine.” He took a larger piece and drowned it in ketchup. His eyebrows went up and his chin when up and down, chewing. “Ono,” he pronounced. “Delicious.”

  Oh, no, you are delicious, I wanted to say.

  “The tomato sugar puree married with the sweet flakiness of the mahi mahi blends with the crab in an unexpected taste explosion,” he said.

  “Very funny.” I pouted as he laughed and offered me a bite of his sea bass, from his own fork. Le sigh.

  He raised his glass of wine and we toasted each other. “To ketchup.”

  We were having some pretty serious eye contact so maybe that’s why I didn’t hear any Jaws suspense music warning me. I jumped, startled, as Lana walked up, moving in on us like a mermaid, or, as I liked to think, Ursula from The Little Mermaid. “Hi, Jac,” she said embracing him as he stood up. “What was all that about with the chef?”

  “It was so nice of him to come out and introduce himself,” Jac told her.

  Lana shrugged her shoulders, rustling her sunshmina that she actually wore.

  “You look gorgeous, as usual Lana, and I love your wrap.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and nodded over at me.

  “This fabric is amazing,” she said.

  “I know,” I said, patting mine, which was folded on the back of my chair. “Has anyone asked where you got it?”

  “Oh? You haven’t gotten any calls?” Lana asked me. “I’ve given your number out so many times I have it memorized.”

  Jac nodded. “That’s really sweet of you, Lana. That’s great, isn’t it, Jaswinder?”

  Why was I the only one who thought the lovely Lana was a big fat fake? To be fair, the only thing fat on her was her hair. And if anyone looked like the villainess Ursula in that tableaux, I’m afraid it was me. My sweaty palms created suction on the bowl of my wineglass, as if I did have tentacles. I smiled widely and vowed to bury my worries in the sand. I was in Maui, with a great guy, and for once I pretended that everything would turn out pono, just the way it’s supposed to.

  I watched Lana slink up to the stage and practically felt all the air being sucked out of the room as the audience paused to stop chewing, holding their breath waiting for her serenade.

  The sun had long since set, paving the way for the spotlight to feature a glowing Lana. She shrugged off her sunshmina and posed in the high beam, wearing nothing much more than a coat of nail polish. The light shadowed her poli making her cleavage the most entrancing sight I have ever seen. She started out with a traditional Hawaiian song with an exotic hula. “Kuhi no ka lima, hele no ka maka,” her siren’s voice surged. “Where the hands move, there let the eyes follow,” she instructed, moving her fingers in a sensuous island story that needed no translation. I actually had tears in my eyes and clapped as hard as the rest of the audience at the end of her first set.

  “Wow.”

  “She’s something,” Jac agreed. “She wants to act, too. She’s actually had some bit parts in movies that were shot over here. She just hasn’t hit it big, yet. I know Mike Hokama helped finance her. He paid for her singing demos and introduced her to some record producers.”

  And then he got killed. Why would Lana have killed Mike if he were her meal ticket?

  The lights went down again and Jac scooted his chair next to mine. He put his arm around me, the weight of his hand cradled my shoulder, sometimes stroking it, sometimes still and heavy. It was all I could focus on, besides the way he smelled, which was way better than the coconut oil in suntan lotion. He sneaked peeks at me, too. As if I were repeating a word over and over until it didn’t seem like a word anymore, the same thing was happening to the isolated spot on my upper arm where Jac’s fingers rested. I wanted to sit like that forever and wouldn’t have been surprised if my deltoid started shuddering.

  If only I could have bottled that moment.

  Chapter 30

  Just In Case

  After the show, Jac took my hand and we went outside for a walk on the beach.

  “Tell me about yourself,” he said, his voice richer than the hula pie we split for dessert.

  “I’ve never run a marathon or donated a kidney,” I said.

  “Good to know.”

  “No plans or dreams to go to outer space.”

  “Check.”

  “I’m boring and not adventurous at all.”

  “I don’t know about that,” he said, swinging my hand with his as we walked.

  I get crushes faster than you can say Kamehameha, I thought. I punched him lightly on the arm. “I’ve never seen the green flash.”

  “Never?” he smiled down at me. “You don’t know what you are missing. I’ll make sure you see it one day.” Full-crush mode activated. “You just need the right atmospheric conditions,” he explained.

  “Hey, I was a weather girl, remember?”

  “Yeah. So you should know. It has to be a crystal clear evening, no clouds. The trick is not to look at the sun until the very last second, right before it dips out of sight. The green flash happens when the sun’s rays pass through the thickest part of the atmosphere, and bends the light, like a prism. It happens really, really fast.”

  “Thank you, Professor.”

  “My pleasure. The legend says that if you see the green flash, you can’t be deceived. It gives you the power to see clearly into your own heart and read the thoughts of others.”

  My aorta pumped in time to the fanning of his eyelashes. “Then I must see this green flash, pronto.”

  “Remember, I’ve seen it,” he said, widening his eyes and staring into mine like a crazed scientist, trying to hypnotize me.

  “What do you see?”

  “You’re thinking about your one true love.”

  I gulped and looked away. My laugh sounded like an old grandmother’s. “Heh, heh, heh,” I believe I actually cackled. I laughed again trying to channel Lana’s delicate tinkle. “Ha ha hee ho.”

  “Your one true love,” he repeated. “Ketchup. Am I right?”

  “When you’re right, you’re right.”

  “So, you haven’t seen a green flash, or donated any body parts.” He shook his head. “What else?”

  “I consider potato chips a vegetable. I can’t sing, can’t dance.”

  “Nice.”

  I grinned at him. What was that Hawaiian expression? Back as straight as a cliff, face as bright as the moon? “I’m too anemic to donate blood, and I have a highly developed sense of spatiality.
”

  “Do tell.”

  “I can’t stand it when people stand too close.”

  He widened the distance between us, still holding my hand but stretching our arms out parallel to the sand. “I can always make exceptions.” I tugged him back to my side.

  “Dogs?”

  “When I was little we had the best dog. He was a Bichon Frise.” I smiled in the moonlight, remembering. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

  “No, go on.”

  “He was so smart. I didn’t get along that well with my sister, and I always felt he was my brother. I guess that sounds kind of silly.”

  “No. What was his name?”

  “Flooffy.”

  “Fluffy?”

  “No, it was spelled that way but you pronounced it Flooffy.”

  “What? Did he commit suicide?”

  “Shut up. He was a great dog.”

  “And he actually came when you called him?”

  I squeezed his hand tightly.

  “Ouch. Okay, okay. Flooffy, the wonder dog. I bet you were such a cute little girl, playing with your puppy. What are your parents like?”

  We stopped and sat together on a big rock.

  “All you need to know about my mom is that she carries duct tape with her at all times. She thinks all the world’s problems can be solved with duct tape. In her defense, she has repaired cars, hemmed dresses, and set broken bones. Who knows, maybe she’s right.”

  “I love duct tape. I once toyed with the idea of a duct tape exfoliating facial mask for my patients.”

  “You were not.”

  “I was not.”

  He leaned in and planted a tiny kiss on my hair.

  “Where are you from?” I asked him.

  “All over. Made in Japan,” he said. “My dad was in the military. He and my mom, who’s Italian by the way, are retired now and live in San Francisco.”

  An olive-skinned, blue-eyed Italian. Mama Mia! Thank you, guardian angel. We talked a little more.

  “So, we’re basically the same age,” I said.

  “No. You’re much older than I am. That’s good. I like older women.”

  “Stop it. You’re not even a whole year younger than I am.”

  He laughed. “Come on. Are you kidding me? You pooped about a thousand diapers before I was even born.”

  I pretended to be offended and shook my head, and tried to hide my smile. Laughter is the best aphrodisiac. Jac smoothed his hand over my hair. Yes, please. “What’s your dad like?” He asked, looking down at me to hear my answer.

  “My dad is an enigma wrapped up inside a gyoza pot sticker,” I told him. “You never know what ingredients are really inside those things, but they’re usually pretty good. That’s my dad. I thought if I could get to know my grandmother better, I’d figure out my dad a little more.”

  “Any luck?”

  “Jac. I have no idea how Halmoni and I communicate, but I am her biggest fan. She is this amazing woman. How do I know that? I have no idea.” I shivered as something niggled at me like a strawberry seed stuck in my tooth. “I’ve got to help her. There was somebody else at his house who killed him.”

  “She’s going to be arraigned soon?”

  “The detectives said early next week, unless new evidence turns up. As it stands now, they think there is enough evidence for it to go to trial.”

  “Sorry, Jaswinder. Usually, there aren’t many secrets on this island. But nobody seems to know, or want to know about this case.” He took my hand and slipped his fingers between mine. “You’re a good granddaughter. I’ve seen the way your Halmoni looks at you. You guys are night and day, and she thinks the sun rises and sets on you.”

  I smiled. “I like that. Thanks for saying that. I never really know what she’s thinking, so I hope she knows how much I care about her. Sometimes, I just feel like I’m walking down a dark path, waiting for an invisible step to trip me up.”

  He pulled me close. “I’ve got you.”

  Jac drove me back home and walked me to the door.

  “I feel like a teenager,” I finally said in a whisper, breaking away from his kiss.

  “You feel like an angel,” he said, running his hands over my back and squeezing my waist.

  “Good one!”

  “I try.”

  “I’d invite you in, but who knows what kind of bad tea I’d end up making you. Besides, I don’t want to wake up my grandmother.” Besides that, I’d want to boink your brains out and I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. I wanted to take it slow and give us both a chance to get to know each other better. Damn it. Maturity sucks.

  “I had a great time with you tonight,” Jac told me. “Somehow, I always have a great time with you.” He kissed my forehead, moved down to my nose and then hovered above my lips. “Hang in there, Jaswinder. I want you to know I’m here for you.”

  “Just in case, right?”

  “What?”

  “Just in case I need you.”

  “Yeah,” he said, “Just in case.”

  “I’ve been looking for a Mr. Just In Case.”

  He pulled back from me. “Have I got a guy for you.”

  My throat expanded so I could swallow a huge lump. My finger swiped at my lips. What was he talking about? I thought we . . .

  “Jaswinder.” He looked down.

  Fine. Scratch that, then. I wasn’t looking for a Mr. Just In Case.

  He reached for my fingers. “My name is Justin Case.”

  “What?”

  “My full, legal name is Justin Anthony Case. From the first time in the second grade that someone laughed at my name, I’ve gone by my initials, just Jac.”

  I pulled him to the top step of the porch so I could sink down beside him. He sat with his arms folded, watching me.

  “I’m a little sensitive about that. You can stop laughing any time now,” he said, still smiling.

  “Then why are you laughing?” I asked him. “What were your parents thinking?”

  “Obviously they weren’t.”

  “I bet you bring huge confidence in the hospital when they page you.” I laughed some more and pinched my nose. “Paging Dr. Justin Case. Dr. Justin Case, stat.” In a deep voice, said, “I’d recommend a second opinion from Dr. Justin Case.”

  “Are you finished?”

  “Not yet.” I wiped my eyes. “OK. There. Whew. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “After that touching scene?”

  “Good point.”

  “You had a dog named Flooffy. You can’t laugh at my name, Jaswinder.”

  He pulled me to him and kissed me with all the finesse of a guy who really knew his way around the anatomy lab. When we finally came up for air he pulled my head to his shoulder and stroked my hair. I knew he could feel the vibrations as I tried to squash my giggles. Before I could even say anything else, he said, “It’s Jac.”

  I nodded. “Just Jac.”

  He pulled me up and walked me two steps to the door like a gentleman and waited until I made it inside before he turned around and headed for his car. As I peeked through the curtain, I gave a silent nod to the stars that were shining particularly bright. I must have a good guardian angel. I had a really, really great time with Jac, but for once my googly eyes were open a little wider than usual. In between worrying about my grandmother and pouring energy into the sunshminas, maybe the island way of life had gotten under my sunburnt skin. Something had happened, I wasn’t quite sure what, but more importantly, I had to be ready for what was about to happen next.

  Chapter 31

  Haole Wood Dreams

  In the truth is stranger than fiction file, I woke up to my ringing cell phone. Most of the calls I received on it lately weren’t the ones I had hoped for. I bolted upright. “Hello?”

  I listened intently, jumped out of bed to get my purse and piece of paper and wrote frantically. “Yes,” I said.” Absolutely. No problem.” I gave them Halmoni’s address. “Yes,
we’re in Maui. About 80 degrees and sunny. Thank you so much!”

  I looked around for my guardian angel, moving as if I were sleep walking. What just happened? I had no time to figure it out because my phone rang again.

  I couldn’t believe it. By noon, I had taken over forty phone orders for my sunshminas. Once I received and cleared checks, I would need to ship out fifty sunshminas. After the third call, I was finally able to ask how they heard about the sunshminas.

  “Halmoni!” I galloped down the stairs. “God bless that red-headed celebrity!” I tried to explain to my grandmother, that the woman, who actually wore her sunshmina on stage during her show, which was taped for television, had actually mentioned that “she got it in Maui from a chick whiter than herself.” She even did a riff on being a haole. To add music to my ears, money to my coffers and ringtones to my cell, one of the hottest celebrity blogs had gotten a hold of it. I checked my computer and pulled up PinkIsTheNewBlog. Sure enough, there was a picture of her in all her pink sunshmina glory with an arrow and a “hawt” and “woot, woot!” I didn’t know if I should throw up or pass out.

  “Be careful what you wish for,” my guardian angel had warned me. I kind of wanted to thumb my nose at him.

  The next few days passed by in a blur. Lois and the women were there constantly, sewing more sunshminas. Shayna helped me set up a website that could be accessed at sunshmina.com and haolewood.com. As soon as my banking info went through, we would be able to process orders over the Internet.

  “And then, watch out,” Shayna said.

  At the end of the day, Lois came out and told me they completed a total of sixty more wraps and were starting to run low on fabric.

  “Shayna, what do you think? How much should we order?” I asked my fourteen-going-on-forty designer. We found the business information for a textile company in Thailand printed on the core of one of the bolts of fabric. I crossed my fingers, pulled out my credit card, and put my grandmother on the phone.

  By the end of that week, Haole Wood received orders for a total of three hundred forty-two sunshminas, in all colors, and processed and cleared nearly twenty-five thousand dollars. By Friday afternoon, I couldn’t wait to pay my team, and even included a five hundred dollar bonus for each of them.