by Claire Adams
I’ve spent so much time being a loser, I thought. I’d gotten really great at heroin and booze, but had literally put the brakes on every other thing I used to do. Fuck that. That was the stuff that made me feel like myself. The drugs made me a zombie. Between the two of them, I had chosen the wrong thing. I wasn’t going to be able to make that choice forever. I had to wake up.
My phone started vibrating in my pocket where it still was from my trip downstairs. I stopped playing to see who it was. Kirsten. I rolled my eyes and put the phone on the piano, ignoring it. It rang a couple more times until she finally went back to enjoying my money, or whatever the hell it was she did in her free time. I played a little while longer before I figured it was time to order something to eat.
My phone was still sitting on the piano. I picked it up thinking I’d see a text from Kirsten or something. She wasn’t the type to let sleeping dogs lie. It wasn’t a text, but she had left another voicemail. I hesitated before listening to it.
No, this was okay. I was in a much better headspace than I had been when I’d gotten that first message. I’d been away a little while, I wasn’t antsy and dope sick. Nothing she said could touch me. I played the message.
“Nate, I wish you’d stop ignoring me, babe,” she started. I frowned. Why was she being so nice all of a sudden?
“I don’t know if I can go the whole summer without hearing from you. I want us to talk. After you come back, I want us to talk about things. About us. We’ve both said a lot of things in the past to hurt each other, but I love you, Nate, and I think we should give it another shot. Please call me back when you get this. I need to know that you aren’t shutting me out. You shouldn’t be alone right now, honey. Just call me if you need anything.”
The message ended.
I shut my eyes and sighed. I was in a better headspace, but something about Kirsten and everything she said to me these days just rubbed me the wrong way. She wanted to get back together now? Why? So she could file for divorce again?
I stood up, making the piano bench fall over. Fuck her. Fuck that bitch and whatever scam she was trying to pull. There was no way she’d had a come to Jesus moment since the last message she’d sent me telling me I could die and it wouldn’t make a difference to her.
It hadn’t been long enough. It was still too fresh. Hawai’i wasn’t far enough. All the people I hated were still in LA, but all the shit had followed me here. I paced around the room, mad, frustrated, and angry that this was my fucking life. I grabbed a lamp sitting on the table near the piano and launched it at the deck. The doors were open, so it smashed against the banister.
I knocked the dining room chairs aside, flipping the table. It cracked as it landed heavily on its side. I launched one of the chairs right into a framed picture of waves breaking on a beach. Then I stormed into the bedroom and dug my kit out of the closet. I walked over to the bed and opened it, looking at my solution.
All it took was one little dose, and I could forget. All this could fade into nothing and I’d feel great. It had worked for so long; why couldn’t I just continue? I looked at my stuff for a long while before walking back out of the bedroom. I had a better idea. I searched the drawers in the living room for hotel stationary and a pen. I sat at the piano and started writing.
Chapter Fourteen
Abby
I took a deep breath, raising my fist to knock on the door. The first time I had done this, it had been a disaster. This time, I had food.
It was Sunday; we were going out. It was only eight, but hey, I'd never said what time we were going to leave. I had been thinking about where to take him all weekend. I was excited. Another day with Nate? It had taken restraint just to wait this long before going to see him. I couldn't hear anything behind the door. I knocked again.
He finally came to open it. I felt myself hold my breath as the doorknob dropped and the door swung open. Oh God. What had he done to himself last night? He looked sleepy, and he was frowning. He didn't have a shirt on, but was still in his jeans.
"Oh good, you're up," I said brightly. "I thought you were still asleep." I walked past him into the room and was stopped in my tracks. Guess he had had a big night. The suite was trashed. "Oh. Did you lose something?" I asked.
I looked for somewhere to put the bag down, but the dining table was turned on its side in the middle of the room. Times like this, I was glad I wasn't part of housekeeping. I looked back at him and noticed he looked a little embarrassed. He ran a hand through his hair.
"Just charge the damage to the room. I'll pay for it," he said. Damn right, he would. Joseph could not hear about this. I turned and looked at him.
"Never mind," I said. "I brought breakfast. Have you ever had musubi?" I asked walking up to him with the bag. I reached in and pulled one out handing it to him. "Go on," I urged. He took it and looked at me like he couldn't see me, squinting. It was kind of cute. He was so sleepy.
"What time is it?" he grumbled.
"Breakfast time. Eat." He sighed and took a bite out of the musubi.
"I swear to God the sun hasn't come up yet. Why are you here so early?"
"It's already eight. Why are you still asleep?"
"It’s eight in the morning. Nothing happens at eight in the morning," he complained. I smirked. Makani hated mornings, too.
"How would you know that if you've never been awake early enough to find out?" I asked. He frowned at me, eating his breakfast.
"I'm going back to bed," he announced, walking back to the bedroom. Now how did he expect to have a full day when he kept starting them in the middle? I walked to his refreshment center and quickly brewed some coffee.
The suite wasn't a big deal. The furniture could be replaced, and it could be tidied up. What if his problems were deeper than just his addiction? I'd read that when a person was addicted, that put strain on the other parts of their life, too. Was that it? What else had gone wrong for him? I knew that he and the band were on bad terms, but maybe he was having family trouble, too; financial maybe?
I didn't know the whole deal. I didn't know how much pain he was in, but I did know that when we had gone to Keahiakawelo, he had been happy to be there. He had had a good time and wasn't thinking about using. That was all I wanted, just for him to feel like he was free.
I picked the bag with the musubi up and walked into his bedroom. He was face down on the bed in his underwear; he'd taken the jeans off. Clearly, the boundaries were gone between us. I thought about looking away, but wondered when I'd be able to ogle at him this freely again.
His back was wide and muscular, and he had a few tattoos there as well that I hadn't known about. I peered at his ass through his tight boxer briefs as I put the bag and the coffee down on the nightstand. It looked like the rest of him: firm and muscular.
"I left your coffee black because you're a little drowsy today," I said. "Do you like the musubi?" He grunted. I wasn't sure whether that was a yes or no.
"There's this amazing food truck in the city, they make these incredible musubi. It's these two guys, one's from here, and the other's from the mainland. They do a sort of Hawai'ian-American fusion thing. I didn't know which one you'd like, so I just got you their spam and bacon breakfast ones," I said.
He rolled over onto his back and leaned up on his elbows to look at me. Eyes on his face, Abby, I had to remind myself. In his bed, half asleep and grumpy, he was still the hottest guy I'd ever seen.
"Why are you here so early? Are we going fishing or something?"
"Nate, it's much too late for that," I said smiling. "If you want to, we can go tomorrow. You'll have to be up before dawn, though. Here," I said, picking up his coffee and handing it to him. He took it and looked at the liquid in the cup, not drinking it.
"Eat this before it gets cold," I instructed, handing him the bag, too. "Have you had a shower already, or do you take one at night?" I asked, walking towards his closet. I slid it open and looked at the row of dark t-shirts. The shelves turned up jeans and long p
ants. He did know he was coming to Hawai'i, didn't he? He'd die when it started getting warmer.
"Nate," I said looking back at him, "where are all your clothes?" He was eating the musubi, leaning up against the headboard of the bed, still sleepy and disoriented.
"They're right there," he said with a full mouth. I turned back looking at the clothes.
"That's okay. We can get you something else another day," I said. I pulled a black t-shirt off a hanger.
"Long sleeves," he said, from behind me. I glanced back at him, returning it and picking a long-sleeved one instead. I pulled out the lightest wash of jeans he had, which were still gray.
"Do you need help in the bathroom, or should I wait for you out here?" I asked seriously. If he wanted, I'd hose him down myself. He was leaving his suite, and he was doing it today. He sipped his coffee slowly, looking a little more human.
"Rain check?" he asked.
"Nope. You can't stay in here while the room's being repaired. Come on," I said, walking into the bathroom. I grabbed his towel and walked back out, tossing it to him on the bed. He sighed, looking like he was regretting every decision he'd made in his life. I sat on the couch and watched him slowly make his way to the bathroom, before stopping to look back at me.
"You're waiting?"
"I need to make sure you're actually getting ready," I said. "You're not bailing on me. Not today, Nate."
He sighed, cursing under his breath. He walked into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind him. I heard the shower come on and realized he was naked, just feet away from me. Maybe waiting for him in the living area would be better. Or out on the deck; it was such a beautiful morning.
I had seen most of him already, but being this close to him, knowing he had nothing on, was giving me really inappropriate fantasies. He had left the door open so he probably didn't even care if I saw him naked, right?
No, I thought, urgently. I was supposed to be a professional. I managed to keep the urge to peep down until he came out of the bathroom. A short towel was tied low around his hips. Somehow, it was more erotic than even seeing him in his underwear. He was using another to dry his hair. It looked black when it was wet.
"Your clothes are on your bed," I told him smiling. He walked over to the bed to get changed. I heard something, which I guessed was him dropping his towel on the ground. I blushed furiously. I should have gone out to the deck.
"You forgot underwear," he mumbled. Before I could say anything, he was walking to the closet to get some, completely naked. The connection between my brain and mouth must have shorted, looking at his naked back and ass because I was speechless.
Not only that, I was rooted to the spot. How dare he be so casual walking around naked in front of me? My stomach burned when I realized what I'd see when he turned around.
"Hey, where do you live? You stay here at the hotel?" he asked. My heart race slowed when I realized he wasn't going to flash me. He pulled a pair of boxer briefs on, also black, before turning around. I swallowed hard to try moisten my dry throat.
"Yeah, well, no... Sort of," I said, flustered.
"Where are we going today?" he asked, going back to the bed to continue dressing. I cleared my throat, glad that I wasn't looking at him anymore. Oh, my God.
"I thought I'd give you a tour of the island," I said.
"Shipwreck beach and whatnot?" he asked. He'd read the pamphlets.
"No. Other spots, the ones tourists don't know about," I said, turning to look at him. He was pulling the shirt over his head. I watched him purposefully make sure his arms were covered, seeing the red marks down his left forearm. Oh, that was why.
"I still don't know why we have to leave so early," he complained.
"Abby, thanks so much for being my personal tour guide around the island today even though it totally isn't your job, and I'm an angry morning person. I really appreciate it," I said in an exaggerated deep voice, telling him what he should have been saying to me. It made him laugh.
"I don't fucking sound like that," he said as he put shoes on.
"You've been nothing but grouchy since I got here," I teased.
“Well, you should catch me after twelve next time. I’m great in the afternoon. Where are we going?”
“You might want to grab everything you need now; we aren’t going to be back till the sun goes down,” I warned instead of answering his question.
“Are we going swimming or something? Because I’m eighty-sixing anything I have to take my clothes off to do,” he said.
I shrugged, smiling because I didn’t want to give anything away. We weren’t swimming, but he was going to have to be a little more enthusiastic about having a good time today or else it wouldn’t work.
“Let’s go,” I said grandly, letting him lead the way out the door.
Since I had brought Nate breakfast in bed, we had skipped finding somewhere to eat, and I had taken him to see Sweetheart Rock before we drove into the city. We stopped for coffee before going by Kaunolu Village.
Most people who came to stay on the island tended to stay at one of the resorts. Since they offered so many things for people to do, they ended up leaving the island having barely scratched the surface of what it had to offer.
Archaeological sites dotted the entire island — some centuries old, some just ruins from the 20th Century. Nate had had a good enough time at Keahiakawelo, and there was nothing I was giving him taking him to the golf course, so I picked places a little more off the beaten path. He was a little hard to read, but he hadn’t complained. He hadn’t seemed sick at all, either — both good things.
By mid-afternoon, we had stopped in the city for lunch, the spot Makani’s friend owned. Nate was looking at his plate, frowning.
"What did you say this was?" he asked.
"Loco Moco," I said. He wedged his fork under the fried egg and lifted it, looking underneath.
"I don't think these things are all supposed to be eaten at the same time together," he said.
"Don't knock it till you try it," I said. He looked at me, then back at the plate. I watched him, stifling a laugh as he tried some, gingerly feeding himself a mouthful. “So?” I asked.
“It’s really good,” he admitted. I sat back in my seat, satisfied.
“Better than hotel food?”
“A lot better,” he said, eating. “After a while, it’s just too much, you know? It’s like having cake every day when all you want is ramen noodles and water.”
“Nobody’s making you stay at the hotel. You can leave whenever you want if you want to eat out,” I said.
“Are you going to come with me?” he asked.
“If you want me to,” I shrugged. “If I have to leave work anyway; I might as well get fed in the process,” I said, trying not to give away how excited the thought made me.
I was in a complicated place. Entertaining a celebrity while he had his island holiday was what it was ostensibly, but all these hours alone together, all these tours to secluded spots… This had trouble written all over it.
I had thought previously that there was no way I was getting my wires crossed, but now I knew I was wrong. I was still working, and that meant I had to be professional, but that didn’t mean I stopped feeling the way I did.
This was the man who wrote those songs I loved. Nate. He wasn’t a big star, untouchable and aloof. He was a guy who was talented and funny who I was going to have a really hard time not falling for.
We finished our lunch and left the restaurant.
“Back to the hotel?” he asked.
“Tired already?” I challenged. “We have one more stop." I climbed into the car.
"Another one? This place is so small; how many secret spots do you know?" he asked. I shrugged.
"When I got here, I had a lot more time on my hands," I said vaguely. "I was shy and wanted places I knew nobody would find me if I didn't want to be found."
"Where are we going?"
"The beach," I said.
"That's not secret. I've been there."
"Not that beach. Wait and see," I smiled. There was still time to back out. He didn't know where we were or where we were meant to be going, so I could still double back and start heading somewhere else. It still wasn't too late.
No. I was doing this. I had never even taken Makani there. I was nervous, but I wanted him to know I was serious about helping him. I'd been going to Polihua Beach since I'd gotten to the island. There were no resorts or property built on it. It was a little hard to get to because you had to go by Keahiakawelo, and the road wasn't paved, but it was worth the trip.
I went when I wanted a little time away from it all. Just time to think.
"Hey, I remember this. Are we going back to the Garden of the Gods?" he asked, recognizing the road.
"You don’t like surprises, do you?" I asked.
“This whole day has felt like one long kidnapping. You’re killing me. Just tell me where we’re going.”
“Just be glad I didn’t put a bag over your head and throw you in the trunk. You’re a very difficult person to travel with,” I said with a smile. He laughed a little.
“Every tour guide’s nightmare. You aren’t the only person who thinks so,” he said. “I’m going to keep asking you until you tell me.”
“And I’ll keep telling you to wait and see.”
He went quiet for a minute before he spoke again. “How do you know Keno?” he asked.
“Keno? I didn’t know you two knew each other. I met him my first summer at the hotel. Makani introduced us,” I said, slightly impressed that he seemed to have made a friend.
“Do you know everyone on the island?” he asked.
“Almost. It’s a small place.”
“Yeah. Nothing like Los Angeles. Thank God,” he said looking out the window.
“Have you always lived there?” I asked to get him talking.
“No. I grew up in San Francisco.” By the time we got to the beach, he had told me about the times he had spent visiting Hawai’i with his parents when he was younger, the last time he’d come to visit, and asked me to tell him where we were going one more time.
