Getting Lei'd

by Ann Omasta

  Chapter 11

  We decide to attend the resort’s weekly luau that evening. I am able to successfully convince Baggy and Ruthie that they will be less conspicuous spies if they keep their finger guns put away. They don’t want to oblige, but finally agree that the weapons might blow their cover.

  Being with the two of them is almost like having two young children to monitor. I’m not sure why I always end up playing the part of the responsible parent. In any case, getting them to sit down and behave is easy once the show starts. The performers are incredibly talented, and I recognize several of them from around the resort. Employees here must have to be flexible and capable enough to fill numerous positions.

  When Honi comes out on the stage, he dominates the ukulele. His high-pitched voice accompanies the instrument, creating a beautiful song with a haunting melody. The lilting sound is both sad and mesmerizing. When he finishes, the crowd sits in stunned silence for a moment before erupting into loud applause.

  Three lovely Hawaiian women take the spotlight to perform a traditional hula. I recognize the middle one, who has been introduced as Leilani, as the lady who was looking for Kai at breakfast. The ladies smile and relay the story of the song with their swaying hips and graceful hand movements. I can’t take my eyes off Leilani. She is the embodiment of perfection. She and Kai must look amazing together. I can’t imagine the heat of the two of them naked and melding together, nor do I want to.

  Speaking of Kai, his death-defying fire-throwing act is the finale of the show. He is scantily clad in a loincloth. His dark skin glistens and his muscles flex as he does seemingly impossible stunts with flames. I am nervous, intrigued, and incredibly turned on all at once. I don’t want to see him get burned or hurt in any way, and it seems impossible that he won’t, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the incomparable beauty of his performance.

  When he finishes unscathed, the crowd goes wild. I clap so hard my hands hurt. He bows and brings the others out for a final bow. I feel like he is looking right at me, but I know the stage spotlights make this impossible.

  When the noise dies down, Baggy leans over the table to say, “I don’t care what he’s up to. He’s so handsome and talented, I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating cookies, if you know what I mean.” At this, she waggles her eyebrows suggestively. I’m not sure exactly what she means, but I do know that I don’t want to hear any more, so I simply nod.

  Just then, an older gentleman plops down at the unused fourth chair at our table. He smiles at Baggy with a lemon wedge in his mouth, similar to what she had done to us with her pineapple. The gesture makes Baggy bubble with laughter. He kisses her hand before introducing himself as Jim Bond. Is that short for James Bond? I wonder, shaking my head at his ridiculousness.

  Mr. Bond tells Baggy that he has been keeping an eye on her since we arrived. “It seems you’re quite the spy.” He leers at her. “I hope you’re not after me, or you just might catch me.” Just as I’m about ready to tell this smooth operator to get lost, Baggy titters. Is that even a word? It seems like the only appropriate word for her reaction.

  Before I can intervene, Mr. Bond asks Baggy for a dance, and they begin a dramatic tango on the empty dance floor. I look to Ruthie for help, but her attention has been caught by the lifeguard/scuba instructor/general watersports dude who is surrounded by a bevy of females at the bar. Sensing a challenge, she instructs me “not to wait up” before sauntering off in his direction.

  I turn my attention back to Baggy just in time to see Mr. Bond produce a red rose for her, seemingly out of thin air. Baggy giggles as he places it behind her ear. Wow, this guy is slick.

  “Guess I’ll take a walk along the beach.” I say the words aloud, even though no one is around to hear them.

  As I take the path toward the water, I see Kai and Leilani. They are clearly having a heated discussion. I really don’t want to spy on them, but something makes me hunker down behind a bush within earshot. This is so unlike me, I think as I’m squatting near the ground. All of Baggy’s crazy antics must be rubbing off on me.

  Then I hear something that makes me cringe. Leilani’s voice is shaky as she says, “This baby is the most important thing in the world to me, Kai.” With more conviction she adds, “I’m not giving it up.”

  I am well aware that none of this is any of my business, but I still somehow feel betrayed. I wish he would step up and accept responsibility for his actions. I put my head farther down as Leilani bursts into tears and runs back toward the resort. Kai turns and heads toward the beach, not bothering to chase after her.

  Once they are each out of sight and I don’t have to worry about being caught eavesdropping, I stand up. Rather than continuing on my planned walk, which would run me the risk of bumping into Kai, I decide just to go back to our villa. I’m feeling a little depressed. After all, if someone as gorgeous as Leilani has man troubles, how much hope is there for the rest of us?

  When I get back to the room, I take a nice hot bath in the giant spa tub to relax and try to wash off the minor blues I am experiencing. It doesn’t really work, so I go to bed. I don’t even wake when Baggy and Ruthie finally straggle in.

  Chapter 12

  The next morning I am awake with the sun, and I feel like a new woman. Baggy and Ruthie are both sound asleep. I get ready quietly and leave without disturbing them. It seems we are on completely different waking schedules.

  Since I am filled with energy, I decide to take a hike. There is an amazing-looking lush green peak that has been calling my name in the opposite direction of yesterday’s swim, so I set off toward it. It is probably much bigger than it looks from a distance, but I decide to give it a shot. Besides, I don’t have to go all the way to the top.

  I just hope it’s not an active volcano. They wouldn’t let people near it, if it were, right? Or, do they just assume that people have enough sense not to climb into molten lava? I shake my head at my errant thoughts, unsure why my imagination can turn something as harmless and fun as morning exercise into a life-threatening, panic-inducing experience.

  I am relieved to find a well-worn path at the base of the hill and set off on my adventure. Before too long, I discover a well-worn sign pointing to a scenic overlook. Since I’m already a little out of breath, I decide to take this clearly less-traveled path rather than attempting to head up to the peak.

  This path is more overgrown, and I feel adventurous and daring for opting for it when I arrived at the proverbial fork in the road. I move an overhanging branch out of my way and almost gasp at the beauty as I step into the clearing. A huge waterfall is crashing into a deep, clear spring of water. I have never encountered such a naturally perfect spot. I wish I’d had the foresight to tote my painting supplies with me. This place is practically begging to be set to canvas.

  A head emerges from the water and I realize I’m not alone. Instinct has me dive behind the shelter of a nearby boulder so I won’t be seen. I hold my breath as I crouch in my hiding spot, hoping the swimmer didn’t see me.

  After waiting a while and not hearing anything, I peek out from behind the rock. The figure in the water is a man. I can tell by the broad shoulders and strong arms that erupt from the surface each time he does a stroke through the water. I watch, mesmerized, as his lean body slices through the water. He is clearly a natural swimmer.

  My legs get tired of squatting, so I sit down with my legs crossed. I keep my body hidden behind the boulder, but allow my eyes to peek out and watch him swim. When he stops under the waterfall and raises his head, allowing the water to crash down over him, recognition dawns on me. Kai. Of course, I should have known.

  I wonder if he has on swimming trunks or if he is skinny-dipping. I can’t stop the fantasy popping into my head of joining him in the water au natural, although I would never actually act upon the naughty impulse. It is intriguing to think about, though. I bet Kai in the buff is a sight to behold.

  He deftly swims over to the side, and I notice for the first time
that a dark blue towel is folded neatly near the edge of the water. Here comes my chance to get a glimpse of him in all his glory. I strain my neck to peer out from behind the rock without poking my head out too far and risking being seen.

  I watch as his shoulders flex to raise him up out of the water. It’s as if time has slowed to allow me to fully enjoy this moment. The water runs down his back in great rivers that turn into tiny rivulets, which I imagine chasing with my tongue. Here comes the moment of truth, I think to myself as his waist breaks the surface.

  Just then, Baggy’s voice echoes across the canyon. “What’cha lookin’ at?” I jump up and whirl in her direction to pull her down next to me.

  My face is burning red with the shame of being caught leering at Kai without his knowledge. Baggy is unfazed. “Oh, we’re spying, eh?” she stage-whispers, quickly converting into her role of super sleuth. “Ya think he hides his drugs down there?”

  I shake my head, bugging my eyes out at her and holding a finger to my mouth, silently praying that she’ll be quiet for once in her life. Some higher power must have been listening to my request because she remains silent as she slowly peeks up over the rock.

  I stay below the surface of our hiding spot, not yet daring to look back out. Had he heard her? What am I thinking . . . of course, he heard her. She was so loud Ruthie probably heard her from the resort. Did he see us?

  I slowly raise myself to peer over the ledge of the giant rock. Kai has wrapped the navy towel around his waist and he is scanning the trees in our direction. He definitely heard something, but the good news is that he would have to swim across the spring or go up and around to get over to us, and either would give us time to get away. I don’t think I could face him right now.

  Baggy and I watch as he gives up on his perusal and bends to pick up a water canteen. “Ooh-wee! Look at that tush!” Baggy says—much louder than I would have dared speak. I nudge her with my elbow but keep watching Kai. He proceeds to take a drink from his water container, seeming unfazed by Baggy’s loudness.

  “You s’pose he’s naked under that towel?” Baggy has returned to her loud whisper.

  I grit my teeth before whispering near Baggy’s ear. “Just because you don’t hear anything doesn’t mean that others can’t. You’re being too loud.” She huffs out a breath but she doesn’t say anything else. Then she plops down on the ground with her back against the rock, pouting.

  I wonder if our cover has been blown, but I’m scared to look. Finally, I decide I need to check, if for nothing else than to make sure that he hasn’t set off in our direction. When I raise myself to look in Kai’s direction, he is looking right back at me. I quickly lower myself, but not before I’m almost positive he winked at me. When I work up the nerve to look again, he is gone.

  “Come on, Baggy,” I say to my grandmother, taking her hand and pulling her upright. “We need to get out of here before he catches us.”

  Baggy’s sense of adventure kicks in, and she quickly forgets that she is angry with me as we scurry back to the resort.

  “You think he saw us?” she questions me quietly, looking around as I use my key card to enter our villa.

  Now she decides to be quiet, I think to myself. “I hope not,” I answer her honestly, even though I’m almost positive that he did.

  I’m surprised to find that Ruthie is up and showered. I join her to sit outside on our balcony enjoying the fresh air while Baggy takes her bath. When Baggy emerges from the bathroom, she informs us that she and Jim are taking a drive to explore the island in his Range Rover today. “You are welcome to come with us,” she offers, but we both immediately shake our heads to decline.

  Ruthie declares that she plans to sign up for parasailing lessons. I am certain that her newfound interest in watersports has to do with the handsome guy who gives the lessons.

  I ponder their plans for the day for a minute, trying not to focus too much on the fact that they have both already found love interests.

  They decide to head down to breakfast. When I inform them I am staying in the room for the day, but would love it if they could bring me a croissant with guava jam, they both look concerned.

  “I want to paint today,” I say breezily in explanation. They still seem uncertain if they should leave me in the room alone, so I add, “Besides, I don’t want to get sunburned.”

  They seem to buy this excuse as plausible and leave. “I’m not hiding from Kai.” I say the words aloud, once they are gone. “I’m not,” I say again, unsure whom I am fighting with.

  I let my inner turmoil go once I make the first swipe of my brush across the canvas. From then on, I am swept into the world my brushstrokes want to create.

  Chapter 13

  Just because my painting turned into a waterfall scene, doesn’t mean anything. It’s a beautiful spot, after all. It practically begs to be recreated on canvas. The fact that my paintbrush decided to add the vague form of a man slicing through the water does not mean it is Kai. It could be anyone. I had intended for the piece to be a traditional landscape, but it had seemed incomplete until I added the person.

  I stand back to admire my work. The man makes the painting come alive. He makes the entire scene more real—less perfect, yet somehow more perfect at the same time. I’m happy with the final product—really happy with it, and that rarely happens. I almost always feel like my work is missing something, but this time I nailed it.

  I have never before painted from memory. The lack of clarity into each leaf and cloud forced me to use a little more impressionism than I normally would have. As I worked on it, I closed my eyes to imagine the scene, then I let my brain and hand work together to do justice to the setting. The resulting artwork is much more stunning than any of the previous pictures I have painted.

  This painting captures perfectly the scene I stumbled upon this morning, and I’m certain I could sell it at a gallery. Well, if I could part with it, of course, but I don’t think I can. I want to remember this amazing locale and the terrific feeling of being here long after I return home. I will find the perfect spot to hang it in my condo.

  The knock at our door startles me out of my reverie. I can’t imagine who it could be. Baggy and Ruthie have keys to get in. I had put out the do not disturb sign in hopes that housekeeping would just leave fresh towels outside the door, rather than come in for a full cleaning.

  Maybe Baggy or Ruthie requested that room service be brought up for me, knowing that I wouldn’t stop painting long enough to seek out food? That must be it, I decide, before looking down at my paint-splattered T-shirt. I’m an absolute mess. It was very thoughtful of my family to save me from having to go out in public looking like this, especially since they hadn’t bothered to bring the croissant I’d requested earlier.

  My naturally cautious personality has me pause to look through the peephole before opening the door. I nearly jump out of my skin when I see a distorted version of Kai looking back at me through the tiny glass. Geesh, does he deliver room service, too?

  “You can just leave the tray outside the door,” I yell, hoping he’ll just drop off the food and not see the paint-covered mess I have made of myself.

  “It's Kai. What tray?” he asks, sounding genuinely perplexed. “I didn’t see you today, so I wanted to make sure you are okay.”

  “Oh, I’m fine.” I am touched by his concern. I guess this really is a full-service resort. “Thanks for checking on me.”

  “I’d prefer to see for myself.” I can hear the grin in his voice.

  Shit! I look behind me at the painting. There isn’t any place to hide it except the bathroom, and I don’t want to risk smudging it while trying to move it. It’s still wet, so I can’t throw a dropcloth over it.

  I make a snap decision and unlock the bolt on the door, leaving the chain hooked. I open the door the chain’s width and smile at Kai. “See, healthy as can be.”

  He beams at me as if I don’t look like a paint-covered fool. “Ah, you’ve been painting. I wasn’t
sure if you were sick, so I brought chicken noodle soup.” He holds up a container as evidence.

  “Thanks,” I tell him, truly touched that he would think to do that. I reach through the crack in the door to grab the soup container, but it won’t fit through the still-chained opening. I squeeze it slightly, but can’t pull it through.

  “I think you might have to open the door.” He states the obvious fact that I have been refusing to accept.

  Sighing, I release the container long enough to close and unchain the door. When I reopen the door, I stand in the opening, hoping to block Kai’s entry into the room. I grab the soup container once more and try to send him along with a simple, “Thank you very much for bringing this by. Please add the charges to our room bill.”

  He frowns slightly at that, but his eyes have already been drawn to the easel. I strain to my full height in a futile attempt to block his line of sight, but he is tall enough to look right over my shoulder. “Is that what you’ve been working on today?” he asks, opening the door wider and strolling inside.

  I sense the second he recognizes the scene. He pauses. “Is that . . .” His voice trails off, leaving the rest of the question unasked. When he turns to me his face is bright crimson, and I’m sure mine is a matching shade.

  I can’t stand the embarrassment, so I start rambling. “Yes, I stumbled upon that waterfall during a hike, and it was so serene and lovely that I wanted to recreate it on canvas.” He’s looking at me now, and I can tell that he knows I saw him. The tension is unbearable, so I fill the void with more chatter. “The figure there”—I actually point at the man in the water—“is a figment of my imagination,” I lie. Unable to stop myself, I add, “The pool was completely empty when I saw it.”

  He’s giving me an odd look, as if he can’t decide what to say. I cannot believe I spied on him then lied about it, then to make it even more ridiculous and unbelievable, restated the lie. I wonder if he is going to call me out on it. He has to know that he is the figure in the painting. Why didn’t I just fess up about it?