Heat Wave(19)

They have the music going on the radio, something with a ukulele and a soft singing voice akin to Jack Johnson, and all three of them seem to really enjoy their job. I can see how seriously Johnny takes his food, which is a relief, but he’s also all smiles and easy-going, which is also a relief. Your job is only as good as the company you keep in it.

When I’ve watched enough, I leave, the jetlag seeming to hit me again. Even though I swore I’d try and stay up late, it’s only seven pm and I can barely stand on my own two feet. I wave goodbye to Johnny, Jin, and Charlie and take a quick peek out at the floor. Just as I thought, about half the restaurant is occupied. I spot Nikki, the waitress, with her long highlighted hair, bustling about and Daniel, the bartender, a guy in his early-thirties with hair pulled back in a ponytail and a loud Hawaiian shirt, but save my introductions for tomorrow.

By the time I step outside, I’m met with a wall of humidity, darkness, and the thick hum of crickets. I walk slowly across the parking lot, my eyes closing momentarily as I breathe in deep, the smell of the ocean, the flowers, the everything. In some ways I feel ready for this next adventure, in other ways I’m a total fish out of water.

It takes me a few moments to remember where my new home is and I head to reception, remembering that Logan had a few papers for me to sign.

The doors to the office are closed but the light is on. I carefully open them and peer inside. Kate is at the desk, shuffling through papers, her dark hair falling over her shoulders. She doesn’t glance up as she says, “So how was your first day?” she asks, her voice monotone.

“A whirlwind,” I tell her. “How long is your shift?”

“Too long,” she says. She looks at me. “I normally do seven am to three pm but Logan wanted the afternoon and evening off and he’s the boss so whatever. As long as I get my overtime, I’m cool with it.”

I’m trying to think of something else to say—there’s a lot to say, yet I feel like it’s crucial I say the right thing. I want Kate to like me. If I’m going to be living with her, this is one relationship I need to start off on the right foot.

“So how late do you have to work tonight?” I ask. “Because don’t worry about me when you come in, I’m jetlagged like hell. I’ll sleep through anything.”

“Until eleven, and then Shannon, our night shift, takes over,” she says and I swear she smiles. “I’ll try to keep it down. By the way, Logan has these for you.” She grabs a stack of papers from the corner of the teak desk and holds them out for me. A keycard is kept under her thumb. “The keycard is yours. Opens, your room, the pool, maintenance areas, and housekeeping, as well as reception. You’ll get separate restaurant keys tomorrow.”

“I thought he was going to go over these with me?” I ask, coming over to take them from her. “This is my contract right?” I flip through the pages.

She shrugs. “Just read it. He went to Hanalei so he’ll probably be coming back late.”

“What does he do in Hanalei?” I ask. I have a sudden flash that he’s there because of a girlfriend, maybe the same one he cheated on my sister with. The rage that boils through me gets caught in my throat.

“He drinks,” she says. “Goes to Tahiti Nui. It’s his bar. Well, aside from here, it’s everyone’s bar. I’ll be sure to take you on a Logan-free day.” She pauses. “The two of you aren’t very close, are you?”

I shake my head. “He was with my sister in Chicago for a year before they got married. The minute they did though, and the hotel took off, they were pretty much living here. I’ve only seen him on a handful of occasions since then.”

She seems to think that over with an air of disbelief. Finally she nods. “Well I suppose in-laws are complicated. I can’t stand my sister-in-law. Thank god she lives back home. In San Francisco.”

Ah, another haole, like me and Charlie.

I want to keep talking to Kate, shoot the shit, maybe get more information on Logan. But my tongue feels fuzzy, my head is swimming.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell her, waving the papers at her. “Thanks.”

The unit is only a few steps from the reception building, so it’s a matter of seconds until I’m waving the keycard in front of the door and stepping inside.

The wood fans whir overhead, and it’s only then that I notice there is no air-conditioning in here, and no television or phone either.

It doesn’t matter. The minute I open the balcony doors, keeping the screen closed, and the ocean breeze comes wafting in, I hit the bed.