A forty-something man with a ruddy face and greasy hair grinned back at me. He was about fifteen years older than me, and judging from the gut bulging over his belt and peeking out of his shirt, he was also a hundred and fifteen pounds heavier.
He rested an elbow on the bar and leaned toward me. “There you go. See, it ain’t all that bad.”
I could feel my brow crumple. “I feel like we are having two very different conversations.”
I turned back in time to see an ancient geezer hobble over to muumuu lady. She shifted so her back was mostly to the stool he heaved himself onto. It didn’t stop him from trying to start a conversation, though.
“Oh holy Jesus, clearly there is something in the water.” I shook my head, finished my drink, and slid off my stool.
“Oh no, where are you—”
“See ya, Ralph.” I snatched the slide printouts and raised them to the bartender in a salute. He gave me a wave even though it was very likely his name was not Ralph. I’d just made it up, after all. It felt cooler to know someone who belonged to the establishment.
I half-stumbled out into the Waikiki night, immediately embraced in warmth. I took a big breath and just stood for a moment, relishing the pleasant summer evening as the heat started to fizzle away.
Things could be worse. I had to own that fact. Not many jobs paid for a girl to go to a lovely resort in a sought-after location. They’d even lined up some fun things to do, like a booze cruise and a hike up to Diamond Head. The job wasn’t great, and the coworkers were Satan’s helpers, but there were definitely perks.
I took one more deep breath and weighed my options. While I could head back to the hotel and see what was on TV, my room overlooked a concrete roof of some sort. I was in paradise—I wanted to experience it.
Without another thought, I walked forward to seek another place to hang out, preferably outside. It wasn’t long before the sound of a toe-tapping band riding the breeze caught my attention. I walked around the building in front of me and then met a courtyard with an outdoor check-in desk. The wisps of music called me in the other direction.
About-facing with confidence, even though I had no idea where I was because the resort was a maze for even the directionally proficient, and I was a long way from that, I stalked back the way I came.
More buildings confronted me, sentries guarding the treasure of good music.
Did they not want people to find the band?
An elbow poked my back. A shoulder knocked into me.
“Oops!” I untangled myself from a woman’s camera strap. It was like I’d just stepped into a roller derby of some sort. “Sorry. Yup. There we go. Okay.” I veered to the side and let the group of intense tourists hurry past. Why the rush, I had no idea.
Undeterred, I randomly went right and followed a little alleyway around a pearl store. The Louis Vuitton shop sneered at me from across the throughway, its window filled with expensive handbags I’d never be able to afford.
I flipped it the bird. Why not. I was in an expressive type of mood.
After circling another shop, I passed the outside check-in desk again. The music still wafted on the breeze. I’d done a circle.
How the hell had that happened?
“Lost?” a woman asked with a smile. She had a suitcase and was standing in the line waiting for a cab.
“No, I’m okay—actually, yes. Can you tell me how to get to the music?”
“Oh, uhhh…” She looked in the direction of the sound before pointing back the way I’d come. “Yes. You just head that way, and you’ll run right into an outdoor bar area, I believe. There’s a band there, usually.”
“Awesome, thanks!” Feet starting to blister, I did exactly what she’d said. When a large path led veered right, I resisted the urge to follow it, and instead kept walking straight. A large seating area nearly full of people greeted me, with a bar in the middle and a band, as promised, positioned on the far end. It was all open to the world, with couples and groups drinking and listening to the music.
Not wanting to be bothered like in the other bar, I spotted a seat at the bar between two couples. Fifth wheel, coming right up. No way would those guys hit on me, let alone talk to me. Their women would probably punch them in the face if they tried.
“That’ll do, pig,” I muttered to myself.
A woman who was passing me started, and then glared.
“Oh no!” I hastened to say. “Sorry. Not you. It’s just…” I let the words trail off as she walked away with a stiff back. Oops.
A moment later I swung myself up onto a barstool with a back. This sucker had lounging in mind. Two bartenders worked the rectangular bar, open on all sides and making the liquors in the middle their own island. I waited for the blue-shirted woman to approach. “What can I get you?” she asked.
“Margarita, please, on the rocks. No salt—can I put this on my room?”