by Claire Adams
"No, I'm glad I didn't say anything. He didn't seem like he really wanted to chat. He's here alone for a long time; that sounds like someone who's trying to get away."
"From what? He's a famous musician. I'd say that was the life," Makani quipped. I saw what she meant, but she hadn’t been there when I was talking to him. The only reason I could think of why he had come on vacation and for such a long time was because he wanted to get away from everything. He probably didn't get the kind of privacy he could get here when he was at home.
Either that, or he wanted time alone to create, which was really exciting. He was a songwriter, so maybe he was here to have some time to put music together because Remus was getting back together and releasing new music?
In either case, he had come here alone, most likely because that was what he wanted to be: alone. Maybe if he seemed a little more at ease, I'd mention that I enjoyed his music. I really wanted to tell him. His music and lyrics were good, and he deserved to know. It felt sort of silly, but his band's music meant a lot to me. I didn't feel like I was just a fan, but that's probably how every fan felt.
"He and his band just separated not that long ago; he probably just wants a break from the drama. Somewhere he can just be a normal person." Somewhere nobody knew who he was, and he could pretend what he'd left behind didn't exist. I understood if that was what he wanted to do. I could relate.
"So you just won't tell him?" she asked. I thought about it.
"If he asked me, I wouldn't lie and say I'd never heard his music, but I'm not going to say anything first. He's on vacation. I don't want to be the reason he has to be on the lookout for photographers or people who are going to try to mob him."
"Guess he's lucky he chose Lanai," Makani quipped. She asked me whether I wanted to go out to eat that night. Her treat. The sun had gone down, but the night was warm and a little balmy.
The nightlife here on Lanai had been the only one I'd ever experienced. Before moving, I'd been too young to go to clubs. Most of the places we went to have a good time were accessible by the beach, so we didn't have to drive or walk the streets.
We had changed out of our uniforms at the hotel. We had the option to eat there, too, but decided to go out. The food at the hotel was great, but it was for tourists. Good, but not authentic. There was a lot of really fancy, gourmet food and fine dining.
It was nothing like the stuff you'd get at a luau that was simple and delicious, made by people who'd been taught to cook by their families, not a culinary school. I didn't pretend I could cook Hawai'ian food, but I liked to think I'd eaten enough to know when it was good or not.
The food had been one of the biggest changes that I'd had to deal with when I moved here. We didn't tend to get a lot of poke in Rochester, Texas. Four years in, and I could eat my weight in lomi-lomi salmon any day of the week.
After stopping by my place and driving back to hers in the city to drop her car off, we decided we'd go to a little restaurant her friend owned. We walked there from her house since it was only about ten minutes away.
Unless you knew about the place, you wouldn't be able to find it. It didn't have a big lit-up sign outside or a line around the block. The only tourists you saw in there were the ones who had been smart enough to get a local to tell them where to get real Hawai'ian food.
Anybody going there for the first time would probably think eating there would be some sort of health hazard. Calling it a dive bar was generous. The five tables in the fairly small square room had chairs all the way around, so if you were eating there, you were eating with strangers. A lot of people just stood eating by the bar. All the plates were mismatched, and the glasses were plastic. It was like eating in your thrifty grandmother's house — if she happened to make the most delicious food you'd ever had in your life.
Makani's friend, Mamo, was older than us, but they'd known each other since Makani was a teenager. We ate there pretty often. His chicken long rice was what I would request as my last meal before I passed.
Sitting there with Makani and a bunch of people who'd become my friends by the time we left was one of the reasons I loved Lanai. I'd lived in a small town before coming here, too. I loved being able to point out my neighbors and know them all by name. I loved how even though tourism was the major economic activity here, there was a homey, family vibe to the local spots around the island.
We ended up sitting at a table with some guys who ran boat trips through the marine reserve for tourists. We ordered our food and laughed with them, drinking cocktails. One of them was a man about forty years old who always hit on Makani, but she always turned him down. He was married. We knew his wife, but as far as we knew, he only did it for a bit of fun.
The people at our table changed a few times during our meal. At one point, this man, probably the only tourist in there, walked up to us and offered to buy me a drink.
He had a European accent and was pretty sunburned, around maybe his mid-thirties, speaking pidgin badly. I only let him buy me one if he got one for Makani, too. He brought us the drinks and talked with us for a while before leaving when it was clear neither of us was going to end up leaving with him. Makani watched him weave through the crowd and walk out the door.
"I think we just ruined his night," she said.
"He was only in here for one thing. He probably asked someone to tell him where a good place to pick up local girls was."
"He had his eye on you since he came in," she said. I scowled.
"Not my type."
"I don't think your type even exists, Abby," she said, taking a sip of her drink.
"I've liked guys before," I said defensively.
"I know you have. You just don't talk to them, date them, or let them take you out."
I shrugged. Not all a lie. In fact, mostly true. Okay. All true. It wasn't that I didn't have a type or that I thought Lanai was too small. I had heard the rumors about me and Makani. A lot of people, especially people who didn't know her very well, thought we were together. I didn't do anything to necessarily dispute those rumors because it wasn't a big deal, but I could see why they had started in the first place. I just couldn't do it.
The thought of dating scared me a little. I hadn't seen enough stable, rewarding relationships to really want to be involved in one. Not even at home. Especially not at home.
Both of my parents were dead. My father, last I had checked, was actually still alive, but he might have died in the years since. Even if he hadn't, he was as good as dead to me. I didn't even have his name anymore. My mother was in a better place now; I knew she was dead. She had died in front of me.
It had been years since it had happened, and Makani knew. Of course, I had told her. What she didn't know was that it was the main reason why I never dated. Before, it had been even worse. I wouldn't even talk to guys right after it had happened. Now, I could flirt and had even had a hookup or two, but never dated. I never kept a guy around long enough to show me his true colors.
I thought about saying it, but why would I ruin such a good night with something like that? It had all happened a long time ago, and I was still healing from it. One day, it wouldn't affect me at all. I was hopeful. Until then, everyone on the island could be jealous of my gorgeous wife. I changed the subject, not wanting to bring the tone down.
"Are you tired tonight, or did you want to do something after this?" I asked her.
"There should be a party on the beach not far from your place."
"Party like hotel party?"
"No, all guys from the city. You want to go?" she asked. I said I did.
It was at a place not that far from my house, a house where I knew a bunch of guys who had moved here from Los Angeles lived. It was a pretty big place, but they shared it. Everyone was in the back on the beach when we got there.
There were plenty of familiar faces. A lot of people had been there longer than us, so they were already a little drunk. There was music playing and people grouped together having a good time.
&
nbsp; People stumbled up to us asking us where we'd been and how we were. A number of them worked with us at the hotel or at other resorts on the island. Even if they didn't do it all year round, they tended to get jobs taking tourists on hikes and things like that to take advantage of the seasonal jobs they brought with them.
We got ourselves drinks and walked out onto the beach. I counted maybe twenty to thirty people at the party, not many at all, but everyone knew each other. Doing things like this meant we could still have fun on our own island while the tourists flooded the bars and lounges. I appreciated the industry, hell, I worked in it, but I understood wanting to be around your friends.
At work, you had to be polite and accommodate strangers. Here, you could speak pidgin and let your hair down.
"Oh no," I heard Makani mumble under her breath.
"What is it?" I asked. I looked around and saw what had changed her mood so fast. Living on such a small, tightly-knit island was a good thing, most of the time. Knowing everyone was nice, except when you had someone to avoid.
Keno and Makani had dated, and their relationship and ended abruptly almost two months ago. It was so sudden, you could have blinked and missed it. She completely cut him off one day, and it had taken days for her to tell me what had gone wrong. I knew what was wrong now, though; she had spotted him, and if he had seen us, too, he was going to come over.
"It's okay, he probably just wants to say hi," I said reassuringly.
I liked Keno. He was a nice guy. He worked at the Four Seasons with us, and I was still friendly with him, as far as was still considered respectful to my friendship with Makani. She told me that she didn't mind me hanging out with him since we had all hung out together when they were dating, but I knew it would hurt her.
She hadn't taken the break up well. I hated that I had had to pick sides, but I was always nice to him when I saw him. Their breakup was so unexpected — and if we were being honest, she had left him — but she had definitely taken it harder than he had.
"Sundays are his night off; how could I forget," she admonished herself.
"Hey, Keno," I said to him as he approached. He smiled, coming up to hug me. He was wearing a black t-shirt and pants. He was a good-looking guy, with high cheekbones and dusky-colored skin.
"Howzit," he said to me. "Makani," he said slowly, looking at her. She looked at him and gave him a tight smile, not saying anything. Wow, this was about to be a long night.
"I didn't see you today, Keno," I said, trying to smooth things over a little.
"No, I didn't come by the main building today. How was work?"
Makani let me carry the conversation, only saying something when I asked her directly. I knew it was weird between them, but I wished they would just have a conversation about who they were to each other now that they weren't a couple.
"Are you here with anybody?" I asked him. I intended it to be casual, but I saw the way Makani clammed up when I said it.
"No. Just me. Are you?"
"No, we're here together," I said. "When did you get here?"
"I was just leaving," he said, glancing at Makani, who was studiously looking everywhere but at him. He sighed and told us he'd see us at work. He hugged me again, while Makani just nodded in his direction instead of doing the same.
"Oh my God," she sighed when he was out of earshot.
"I can't stand you two together," I told her, taking a sip out of my cup.
"I'm sorry. I just can't talk to him. Did I ruin your night? Do you want to leave?"
"No, we came here to have a good time. Have another drink," I suggested, trying to help her get over the meeting. She had one and slowly recovered quickly from the run-in with Keno. She was laughing and smiling again in no time.
I didn't want to tell her, but seeing the way she had become with Keno really didn't make me want to date. They had been friends at one point, so hopefully, enough time would pass when they could be friends again one day.
We hadn't driven there, so nobody was too scared to have too much to drink. Two hours after we'd arrived, Makani pulled me from the party, reminding me that we had work the next day. The walk from there to my place was fifteen minutes, but was made significantly longer by how drunk we were. We managed to get there in one piece, both of us holding our shoes in our hands and howling with laughter.
Chapter Five
Nate
My body felt heavy and useless as I tried to wake up. I felt like I was awake already, but I couldn't move. I opened my eyes and immediately regretted it.
I was on the bed. On it, like on top. I had never made it under the covers the night before. I was covered in sweat, and my head was pounding. I had to squint my eyes to keep them open because it was so bright in the room. Who the fuck turned on so many lights? What time was it?
I groaned and struggled into an upright sitting position. My eyes adjusted a little letting me see that no, the lights were not on, it was just daylight. Bright, sunny daylight. I had no idea what time it was or when I had even gotten to sleep. I couldn't really even remember leaving the room yesterday once I had gotten here.
All right, I had had nights like this before. First thing I had to do was figure out what time it was. I patted my pants pockets, finding my phone in the back. Thank God I hadn't been robbed since I'd obviously gone out. My eyes squinted at the lit phone screen. Twelve o’clock on a Monday afternoon.
I flopped backward back onto the bed. The action made my head hurt. So last night had been a big night, huh? Obviously because now I could hardly see three feet ahead of me, and I felt like I had a boulder inside my fucking skull.
I unzipped my hoodie and peeled it off of me since I was sweating so much. I touched my forehead. It was cool, but still wet with sweat. Hangovers didn't do that to you.
Fuck, I felt sick. My stomach turned, and I felt dizzy. I got up slowly to my feet and peeled my shirt off, leaving it on the floor with my hoodie. I staggered around the room, looking for that mini kitchen refreshment center the girl, what was her name, had told me about. There had to be water in there. It was just the more expensive version of a minibar. I yanked the fridge open and looked inside.
Wow, she hadn't been kidding; they really had hooked me up. Ace of Spades, Hennessey, Patron…all my biggest mistakes.
I spotted the bottled water and reached for one, wrestling the cap off before I downed nearly the whole thing in one go. I finished it and tried to get the cap back on. Couldn't. Shaky hands. Awesome.
How long had it been since I'd had any heroin because my body was telling me it had been too long?
That was the other reason why this shit was so fucked up. Right then, I felt like shit. My head was pounding. I couldn't remember anything, and I felt like I'd probably made some terrible decisions the night before, but I didn't want to use. I wasn't anxious and panicky. I didn't feel like I was drowning. My body was just so used to having that fucking poison in it all the time that it was getting dope sick.
It wasn't just me that was addicted, like the me who could control the shit I did and didn't do. I needed the stuff. I'd trained my body to need it like I needed food. Like I needed water.
I knew how this went. The longer I took before I shot up again, the worse it would get. I'd start sweating more, and then I'd get queasy. I'd throw up even though I was certain I hadn't had anything to eat since I'd gotten here yesterday. I'd get sicker and sicker till it eventually passed and I stopped withdrawing, which could take days, or I'd cave and shoot up so I wouldn't feel like I was dying.
I already knew which one was going to happen. I chucked the empty bottle in the trash with its bottle cap and staggered back to the bed. I leaned over to my backpack, where I knew my kit was. I tried the zipper, getting frustrated and nearly breaking it, trying to open it up. I pulled my kit out and put it on the bed in front of me.
I was starting to get anxious now that I knew what was coming. I knew I just had to get this stupid thing open and stick the needle in me, and I'd be fine.
My hands felt like they weren't mine trying to get a hold on the zipper. I got it open a little, then shoved my fingers in the hole, pulling the zipper teeth apart. My stuff flew out of the bag, landing on the bed and the floor.
"Fuck," I swore, managing to get one bottle before it rolled off the bed and smashed on the floor. Syringes were all over the ground. I got down on my hands and knees to grab one. I wasn't gentle enough trying to get its plastic wrapping off. It snapped into two pieces in my hands.
"Shit." I threw the pieces across the room and searched the floor for the closest one to me. I spotted one peeking out from under the couch at the foot of the bed and angrily shoved it out of the way. I dropped to my knees, getting the syringe out. I lugged my suitcase out of my way, making all my luggage fall out across the floor.
I climbed back onto the bed and tried to pierce the vial to fill the syringe. My hands were shaking and sweaty. I wiped them off on my jeans and tried again, gritting my teeth. I got it filled and swore again, remembering my belt was still somewhere on the floor.
Fuck it. I needed this now before it got any worse. I flexed my arm, clenching my fist to find somewhere to stick it. I got it inside, feeling the little bit of pain when the needle stuck. I pulled some blood out and carefully emptied the syringe.
I fell back on the bed, exhausted. The high crept up on me. It felt like being filled up with warm air. I started feeling better immediately, but it only lasted until I realized what I had done again.
What I was still doing.
Was it even worth getting mad about anymore? I was sick. I had gone, what? Twelve or so hours without my stuff, and my body told me no way.
I lay there for a while, waiting to feel well enough to get up again. The drug made my headache disappear, but I knew I was still technically hungover. I got up and walked around the room, finally able to take it in since I'd woken up. The sliding double doors onto the terrace were open, and I wondered whether I had done it or if housekeeping had come through when I was passed out.
