by Lisa Freeman
“Hello?” Jean said.
She got a big smirk on her face and turned her back toward me for privacy. Maybe she had a boyfriend?
“So nice of you to call,” Jean continued.
It sounded like she was talking to Nixon or some other person she thought was important. She stood upright with her shoulders back. Her voice was smooth and soft. She took long, slow drags from a newly lit cigarette as she listened, agreeing every so often.
“Thank you, Agnes,” she said.
Agnes who? Jean waved me to the phone, impatiently.
She covered the receiver with her hand and mouthed, “It’s Mrs. McBride.”
She handed the phone to me.
No way was I ever talking to Mrs. McBride again. I shook my head and backed off, but Jean insisted. She almost shoved the phone down my throat. I had to take it.
“Hello?”
“Did you miss me?”
It was Rox.
“Yes, Mrs. McBride, I did.”
Jean was impressed with my manners. I tried not to smile too much as Rox relayed her conversations with my mother back to me. Rox had apologized to Jean, as Mrs. McBride, for all the stuff about me missing my curfew, and she told her about the awful girl who had invaded her home in Malibu last night. Rox sounded just like her.
Then in her own voice she said, “Meet me at Roy’s in twenty minutes.”
“Thank you, Mrs. McBride. I will.”
I hung up the phone. Jean said, “She’s a very nice woman, you know.”
I felt bad lying to Jean, but it wasn’t like she was going to run into the real Mrs. McBride anytime soon.
“Yes, Mom, I know,” I said. I followed her down the dark hall, watching her shuffling in ballet slippers half on and half off, a bottle of beer in her hand. She stepped out of her uniform. I saw a roll of skin hanging over her half-slip, her bra was on its last hooks and red imprints from her uniform being too tight crisscrossed along her back. Jean’s skin wiggled like an old lady’s. Her tan lines were gone, and her hair had lost its flip. She had no aloha left. Poor Jean had wilted into an Eleanor Rigby right before my very eyes. Now she was just a sad Beatles song.
“Be back from the beach at five-ish. I’m cooking cod.”
Jean didn’t even know I was looking at her. She closed the door.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Bowie Bangs
Rox and Claire stood in front of Canyon Beach Wear next to Roy’s, pretending to look at the bright-colored suits in the window. From their posture, arms crossed and heads almost touching, I could see they were having a serious discussion as Rox waved me over.
Rox had dark circles under her eyes but still looked outstanding in her white, bell-sleeved muslin blouse and silver conch belt hanging low on her hips. The blouse was open, of course, to show off a new bikini. I was surprised to see my elephant necklace from Dad nestled around her neck. It hung above her cleavage like it had always been there. I wasn’t sure if I was stoked or upset.
Claire stood next to Rox, looking like a lemon verbena cookie, just like she did the first day I laid eyes on her, hair perfectly parted down the middle, turquoise dangling earrings, and today she wore a backless, cotton micro mini dress with white flip-flops. There was no hug hello. They were all business. Something was going on. The clothes, the conference, the whispering. I was afraid Claire knew I kissed Shawn. Or even worse, maybe Rox told Claire about Fiji.
Claire inspected my ultra-low shorts, crocheted bathing suit top, and tied-up silk shirt. I couldn’t look her in the eyes, so I put my shades on. I felt so bad about Shawn. What would I say if she brought it up?
“I see what you mean,” Claire said, touching my one-inch bangs and smiling. Then she turned to Rox and said, “Very Bowie.”
I had seen a picture of David Bowie in CREEM magazine. He was amazing. I was going to get his new album Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. I wished I was on Mars right then when Claire and Rox started whispering, hands in front of their mouths. Especially when Rox said, “Claire.”
“Yes, Rox?”
“I have to pee. Will you keep watch?”
“Sure.”
It was like they were reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. It was so rehearsed.
“Come on, Nani.” Rox gave me one of her pushes and moved me forward.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Sisters of Sand
There was no bathroom at Roy’s. That meant we had to go in the gas station. Rox quickly steered me through the parking lot. Then instead of going into the Chevron, she guided me down a small pathway between the buildings. The space looked like a narrow version of Jean’s garden with weeds and succulents everywhere. It was overgrown. Trudging through the plants made my legs itch.
“I thought you had to pee?”
Rox didn’t answer. That wasn’t a good sign.
Obviously this wasn’t the right moment to ask her, but I had to know, “When did you sleep?”
“I didn’t.”
“How did you clean up so fast?”
“I just did. Come on. We don’t have much time.”
Rox nudged me forward down the alley.
The sound of power tools drilling metal got louder and louder. She stopped before we turned the corner and lifted my shades up onto my head.
“Check this out,” she said. I could see three men in blue overalls covered in grease with baseball caps on backward and long ponytails stuck through them. They were like surgeons holding body parts, examining mufflers and the underneath part of a tow truck. They acknowledged Rox and went back to work. Rox identified them one at a time.
“That’s See No Evil underneath the truck on that metal slippery thing. That’s Hear No Evil. And that’s Speak No Evil with the metal hoodie on his head.” Rox was talking so fast I could barely keep up. “In mechanic’s land, everyone is invisible. They let us pretty much do anything we want back here because the Topangas do the big deals out of sight. I think they give them like 10 percent of everything they grow.” Speak No Evil pulled the metal welding mask over his face, lit his torch, and turned away. It was like we really were invisible.
Rox dug into the bottom of her purse and pulled me back into the shadows. She took out a needle and thread.
“I always keep this for bikini emergencies.”
That was good advice. But weird considering everything was fitting her just fine at the moment. She pulled the needle out of the spool and dropped the thread back into her purse.
She held the needle between her fingers, then instructed me to hold up my hand, placing my forefinger straight out. “This might hurt a little.” It looked like she was going to jab the needle into me like Norman Bates did in Psycho, killing Janet Leigh, quickly and with a lot of screaming.
“Whoa, whoa,” I yanked my hand away and held it tightly against my chest.
Rox pointed her little needle at me. “You know what I knew the moment you walked onto State Beach? I knew you were going to be in the lineup. Someday you are going to rule and be more intense than Claire and I ever could be. You know what else I knew? I knew you were the Fiji type.”
The smile that spread across my face was unstoppable. This was so far beyond anything I could have imagined.
“So that’s what this is all about.”
“Yeah. Now give me your hand and stop smiling. Do you have any idea how dangerous Fiji is? ”
She was so intense. What was the big deal?
She grabbed my wrist and stuck my finger before I could say ouch.
“Did that hurt?”
“Yeah.”
“Good, remember that because you don’t have any idea what would happen to us if the word got out about Fiji. Now do it to me.”
I poked the needle into Rox. A circle of blood oozed from the tip just like mine. We pushed our fingers together. One of the Evils started using a jackhammer in the garage. I could barely hear what Rox was saying. I leaned in with my ear close to her mouth.
“We could get tarred and fea
thered, run off of State Beach. Nobody can know about Fiji, Nani. Do you understand that once and for all?” I nodded. “Then swear you’ll never tell anyone. Swear on your dead father. Swear on your eyeballs. Swear on what’s left of your hair, and swear to me forever.”
“I swear.”
Rox kissed me on the lips and said, “Okay, let’s go.” She grabbed my hand and yanked me forward, skipping over the plants back into broad daylight. Claire tapped her wrist impatiently when she saw us, and Rox lifted her chin all tough. She turned back to me with a few last words of advice.
“If you ever want to see Fiji again, remember this. No matter what happens from this moment on, promise me you will never lose it. If your feelings get hurt, if you want to say something—don’t. Swear again.”
“I swear.”
“Now we’re going to take care of some official business. Welcome to the Sisters of Sand.” She slid my shades back down to my face.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Adiós
Across the street, we saw the lineup file out of State Liquor with cartons of cigarettes. None of them looked hungover from the party last night. Each girl held a Tab. They were using Red Vines for straws. Something had them laughing so hard they were holding their sides.
“Making quite a spectacle out of themselves, aren’t they?” Rox said to Claire and me. Claire was looking past the lineup toward PCH.
“Oh no,” she said. Rox turned around.
“What’s he doing here?” she asked.
I peeked over my shoulder. A police car put on his siren and flashing lights. Across the street, the lineup stopped in their tracks. Cartons of cigarettes were tossed from one girl to the next like hot potatoes until they made their way to the largest purse. The Lisas started brushing their hair while lingering at the stoplight. Mary Jo ducked behind them. KC, Jenni, and Suzie sat all innocent-like at the bus stop. They looked like sweet little teenagers getting organized for a day at the beach as they watched the police car pulling up in front of Rox, Claire, and me.
“I’ll handle this,” Rox said with more command than ever. She let her shirt drop off her shoulders, pushed her boobs up high and flipped her hair back over her head. In the snap of a finger, she transformed herself into a dominator.
“Hi, Officer Walzcuk,” she said.
A fake smile worthy of an Academy Award was plastered on her face. The way she pulled it together was unreal. Oh my God, Rox was good.
Officer Terry Walzcuk was the local beat cop. He looked like a Libra. He had a belly and white hair that receded into two sharp points on his very high forehead. It was a perfect summer morning and almost eighty degrees, but Officer Walzcuk wasn’t even sweating. He must have been uncomfortable in his dark long-sleeved uniform with the big heavy gun belt squeezed under his gut. His mirrored shades made it impossible for me to tell where he was looking or what he was looking at. What got me all tense was he had left his engine running. That couldn’t be a good sign.
“Hello, Missy,” Officer Walzcuk said to Rox. “Were you at the party last night?”
I didn’t hear what Rox said, but I saw Claire signal the lineup. One by one, each girl put on a super-smooth smile and walked across the street. It was like seeing a canoe race where everyone’s moves are synchronized. The lineup floated toward us in unison, stopping traffic. Even some gay men whistled at them; they were that beautiful.
Watching the lineup, I knew anywhere would be somewhere just because they were there. They closed in around me, and I felt it. Locals were like family, and I was finally a part of this one surrounded by sisters.
“Cute bangs,” Mary Jo blurted out as she touched my head and laughed.
I wanted to slap her, but I had just sworn on my eyeballs to stay calm no matter what. I lowered my head and concentrated on Fiji. I let the Lisas dote over my bangs as Officer Walzcuk checked us out, toes to nose.
“Who got assaulted last night?” he bellowed.
Without hesitating, Mary Jo and Suzie pointed at me.
“She did,” they said at once.
Officer Walzcuk took me aside.
He asked for my full name and address. He wanted to know if my parents knew I was out last night.
“My mother did,” I told him.
“What about your father?” he asked.
“My dad is dead.” I folded my arms across my chest and said it again. “My dad is dead.” I did everything I could not to cry. I squeezed my butt tight and curled my toes, but my eyes still watered up. Even so, I wasn’t about to let myself really cry. No friggin’ way.
“How’d he die?” Officer Walzcuk asked.
“Heart attack,” I said, looking down at the ground.
“That’s too bad. Habla español, Señorita?” he asked in a super-loud voice. I turned around to see Mary Jo and Suzie laughing it up, while the other girls rolled their eyes. Officer Walzcuk took me by my shoulders and turned me to face him.
“Why are you speaking Spanish?” I asked.
“Because you’re Mex-eee-caa-n,” he said, exaggerating the syllables so the whole world could hear him.
“No,” I said, gritting down a smile and pulling off my shades to reveal my haole green eyes. I wanted to sound out I’m Ha-waii-an, just the way he said Mexican, but I knew better. Dad told me that police officers were unpredictable. He said I should watch out for cops, especially the big white ones.
“I’m Hawaiian,” I explained, shifting my body weight from one side to the other and smiling bigger. I even dipped my eyes and looked up at him just like Rox did. If she had been watching, she would have been so proud of me for that.
“Oh, like ‘Book ’em Danno?’” the moron asked. He got sort of excited. He went from treating me like dirt to getting all starstruck.
I was never going to live that show down. Maybe that was okay.
“You’ve got it exactly,” I said.
Without another word, he slipped his arm around my waist and moved me to the patrol car. If he hadn’t had such a big grin on his face, I would’ve sworn he was going to arrest me.
“Is this the girl who attacked you?” He sounded concerned.
Tinkerbell sat in the back seat with her hands cuffed in plastic ties. In daylight, she looked ghoulish with light blue eye shadow and mascara caked under her swollen brown eyes.
“Take your time,” Officer Walzcuk said.
He led me closer to the car for a better look. I gave Tinkerbell a thorough once over. Not because I needed to, I just wanted to make her sweat while I played along with Officer Moron.
“It’s not her,” I finally said.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
I paused. Just to give Tinkerbell one more kick in the ass, let her worry for a minute more that I’d fink on her. Let her squirm.
“Yeah, I’m positive,” I said. “The girl from last night was thinner and prettier.”
Then Officer Moron had the entire lineup and everyone at Roy’s, including Roy and Darlene, come out of the restaurant to look at Tinkerbell.
“Her name is Angela Espiñoza,” Officer Moron said, “but she goes by Maldita, ‘The Cursed.’”
He grinned as he said her name, sucked in his gut with a deep breath, and tucked his thumbs into his belt loops to make a serious final statement. The guy obviously watched too much TV. Talk about a McGarrett complex.
“If anyone sees her around here again, call the police immediately.”
He talked as if he were giving a press conference about Charles Manson or something. How lame, I thought. I looked at Rox and Claire as they chatted him up, sealing the deal. The rest of the lineup was flirting with Roy, trying to get free cups of coffee. It gave me a chance to get one last look at Tinkerbell. She didn’t move, but her eyes shifted slowly up toward me.
“You’re nothing but a honky wannabe,” she said, then spit to one side.
Oh great. Yet another word for haole. I’d never been called a honky before. I leaned against the patrol car and spoke through the crack
in the window so she wouldn’t miss a word I was about to say.
“Get a good look at these green eyes, Tinkerbell.” I stared at her. “They give me a right-of-way to both lanes of the highway, if you catch my drift. The best of both worlds.” I turned to leave, but on second thought, I had one more thing to say. “Oh, by the way, thanks for the trim. It’s really working out. Very Bowie, don’t you think?” I gave her the finger and said, “That’s for Jacko,” and walked away.
The war between us had officially begun.
“Aloha,” Officer Moron said as he opened the car door and got in.
“Bye, Officer Walzcuk,” we all said with big, fake girl smiles.
The patrol car made a U-turn onto PCH. Maybe Tinkerbell would go to jail, or maybe he’d drop her back in the valley. Any which way, it wasn’t my business anymore. Rox and Claire steered me toward the lineup waiting at Roy’s.
“Let’s get this over with,” Rox said.
And with that, Claire moved into action big time.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Six Forks
Claire strolled up to the front of Roy’s and spoke to the lineup slowly.
“Mary Jo, could you set up today?” she said as she slipped her arm over Suzie’s shoulder. Nailing the space at the beach for the day was an honor, and I was pissed that Mary Jo, the traitor, was picked to do it. I had to look away and think about Fiji again. Mary Jo was stoked and a big smile flashed across her face. Very uncool.
“Sure,” Mary Jo said.
“Suz, can you help her out?”
Suzie nodded. Being the next in line to rule, she knew exactly where to put everyone’s towel and how to position them so they faced the sun.
“So, you want coffee?” Claire asked Mary Jo.
“Cream and two sugars.”
The nerve of her. Claire just gave a cheerful double thumbs-up to Mary Jo and handed over her towel along with Rox’s. The Lisas piled theirs on, too. Jenni tossed hers to Suzie. KC, the loner, had already headed over to the volleyball courts.
It was dead inside Roy’s thanks to red tide and a swell that hit down south in Huntington. We had the place all to ourselves. Darlene poured us coffee. “And two to go, please,” Jenni said. She passed me a cigarette. I took a long drag. Finally. A smoke.
