"Here in Hawaii we've kept our heritage strong for generation after generation, and none have stayed so pure as the art of the hula." A man announced as one woman in a huge yellow grass skirt took center stage. She shook her hips in a way Felicia had only seen in movies, and when the man spoke again, another fraction of the group of women stepped forward, all their arms swaying by their sides in the most graceful synchronicity she'd ever seen.
"Tonight, we invite you to join us in the ancient art of the hula. Please, step forward if you wish to learn how."
No.
A pit sank in her stomach as she pictured herself climbing the stairs and dancing in her ridiculous ensemble for the whole of the company to see. Her hips would probably jerk from side to side like she was being electrocuted in comparison to the gentle metronome-type movement of the woman on the stage. She'd stand out like a manitee in a school of dolphins. Never a good look.
"I can't think of anyone better dressed for the part, Moonbeam." Frank's languorous voice sounded from behind her and she turned on her fakest smile and let out a breathy little laugh.
"Yeah, no, I don't think I should--"
"Nonsense, nonsense. Have a little fun. You deserve it."
"Right." She took a deep breath. "Right. Sounds perfect."
"Nice outfit," Another voice sounded from behind her and it was all she could go not to hang her head and walk back to the hotel room right then and there.
She turned to find Doctor Patterson staring down at her, though this time he was sadly not in his swim trunks. Instead, his broad shoulders were hugged by a well-worn looking blue t-shirt and equally faded pair of jean shorts.
"You're not exactly the height of fashion yourself," she shot back.
"Yeah, well, dress for the job you want. I personally have never wanted a job all that much."
She bit back her smile, then eyed him. "I thought the people who lived on the island would get sick of this kind of thing."
"Seeing women dressed like you? Never." He raked his gaze over her and heat rose to her cheeks. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she checked to see that the hula girls were still dancing, if only to prevent him from noticing her blush.
"My boss wants me to get up there and dance."
"Some people might call that harassment."
"I suppose they would."
"You would look good up there, though. I bet you're one hell of a dancer."
"Why would you think that?"
"Because a woman like you would never do anything they're not already perfect at."
"Good point." She smiled at him. "So why are you really here?"
"The free food. And the drinks. You want one?"
"I don't know..."
"Well, either you tell your boss you're waiting for a drink, or you get up there and hula your ass off. I guess that's up to you."
"I'll take a hurricane."
"That's what I thought." He stepped toward the bar and Felicia surveyed the crowd quickly, noting how many men and women were circled around the tiny table where Frank sat swaying along to the ukelele music. Ken, Thomas, Greg, Barbara--they were all there and more, all vying to grab his next drink or share their opinion on the horoscope with him.
"So which one in the boss?" Trey surprised her with his quick return, but after taking her drink from him, she pointed toward Frank and his mass of stormy gray curls.
"He's...unique looking."
"That's one way of putting it." Tonight Frank had three leis of all different colors slung around his neck, and a headband filled with wildflowers. To be honest, Felicia was starting to worry that the old man was beginning to outshine even her Hawaiian spirit.
"Why aren't you over there?" Trey took a sip from his own drink--a beer by the looks of it--and she shrugged.
"I guess I should be. But I'm worried he might ask me to dance again. Or call me Moonbeam." She cringed.
"Moonbeam?"
"It's apparently my spirit name."
"Ah, spirit names. Your company went for the deluxe package." He nodded knowingly.
"You have a spirit name?" she asked.
"I certainly never asked for one."
"That doesn't mean you don't have one."
"Falcon's Heart." He grimaced. "Like I said, I never asked for it. Tracy gave them to everyone who works here."
"Who has the worst one?"
"The receptionist. I'm paraphrasing, but I think it's something like Rainbow Fart. Whatever it is, Tracy's had a hell of a time getting her calls patched through since then."
Felicia laughed, but the mirth died on her lips as she watched Frank stand, look around, and then find her and start toward her.
"Shit," she muttered, and when Trey followed her gaze, he made a motion as if to say "don't worry about it."
Which was, of course, yet another indication of exactly how little he knew her. And how little he knew about Frank.
"I thought you were going to dance," Frank said, his arms outstretched.
"I was, but I ran into--" She gestured toward Trey, not sure what exactly to call him. Luckily, Trey was quicker on his feet than she.
"An old friend. I begged her not to dance. Believe me, nobody needs to see that."
"Oh, on the contrary, I'm sure it's wonderful."
"No, no, I'm terrible. My skills are more in the boardroom than anywhere else."
Trey shot her a look from the corner of his eye, then added, "Always a joker, Felicia."
"Really, Moonbeam? A joker? I never knew." Frank looked from Felicia to Trey and back again.