Aloha, Baby (A Short Story Serial - Part 3)

Blue eyes, dimples, and a hot surfer's body means trouble, right? There's only one way for Katie to find out...

Losing seventy pounds was sure something to celebrate, but at the same time it created problems Katie never expected to deal with. Like, what to do when the hot-bodied surfer, Jack, turned out to be the DJ at her roommate's favorite dance club. Katie was positive he had ‘Trouble’ stamped on his butt. Didn't he?

Here's a link to Part 1 and Part 2

So at the end of last week's excerpt, Katie and Meli headed out for a night of dancing and other shenanigans...

Honolulu was a colorful honeycomb of activity on the south end of the island of Oahu, set between the shoulders of the Koolau Mountains and the ocean. At night it was a jumble of bright lights and velvet darkness. Instead of the highway, Meli took surface streets to get to Waikiki. As we circled the skirts of Diamond Head, whitewashed houses flashed by, their windows lit gold from within. I thought about the kind of guy my mother would like. She probably hoped I’d meet a young intern at the hospital where I worked. For sure he wouldn’t be like Meli’s dumb jock friend or Jack from the beach. As if I was interested in either of those two. Not me. 

Our first stop was the Red Lion Pub. To get there, we had to go down a narrow flight of steps. The pub was dimly lit, perfumed with stale beer and populated with guys sporting military haircuts. Just the kind of place to find a guy to please Mom. Not. Meli made a quick circuit, gripping my arm to drag me along. “Let’s get a shot here and go someplace else,” Meli said when we got back to the bar.

“Peppermint schnapps?” I suggested, naming something I was pretty sure I could down without puking.

Meli turned and ordered from the woman who was working the bar. They both carried themselves like they were six inches taller than real life, and I wasn’t really surprised when Meli leaned over and introduced her as a cousin. Even in a dive like this she had family connections. After a quick shot of peppermint schnapps, we were off to our next stop. 

Two clubs later, we were headed to the Shorebird Restaurant, still trying to find Meli’s friend Dave. To keep my head clear, I used Weight Watchers as an excuse to drink soda water instead of more alcohol. Meli, however, had a little buzz on. Her cheeks were flushed and her giggle was even higher pitched than normal. And we were both giggling a lot. Between the novelty of being out on the town and the peppermint schnapps, I was actually having fun.

The Shorebird was on the main floor of a hotel. Although the club called itself a restaurant, its big business came after ten o’clock when the dancing started. Walking across the lobby, I was bummed out by the huge line of people waiting to get in. The bouncer, a tall, stern-looking Samoan man in a polo jersey with the Shorebird logo, glared down at the crowd. Meli never slowed down, ignoring the line and marching right up to the door. When we reached the bouncer, Meli threw her arms around his neck. 

“Hey Katie, this is my cousin, Junior.” 

“You girls wanna come in?” As he shook my hand his smile was all joy, totally undercutting the fierce line of his brow.

“We promise to behave.” Meli elbowed me and winked, as if that was somehow going to reassure him. 

“You bring pretty girls like this to my club, cousin, and you can come in any time.” Junior never stopped smiling as he waved us through. I tried not to notice the dirty looks we got as we walked past the people at the front of the line.

Once we were inside, I clutched at Meli. “I can’t believe we just did that. I feel like a movie star.”

She grinned and led the way to the bar. “Let’s have another shot.” 

“No, just a glass of white wine.” White wine had the fewest calories, and I sure didn’t need any more schnapps. After the last bar, Meli started talking about Jagermeister. I really didn’t want any of that.

Meli squealed as she passed me a glass of white wine. “Dave’s over there.”

The Shorebird was built right on Waikiki, with big windows opening out onto the beach. The long rectangular room had a dance floor at one end and a covered lanai at the other. Meli took off, heading in the direction of the windows. I did my best to weave through the people behind her. After a confusing flurry of introductions, we were seated at a table with Dave and his brother Dan. 

They were as handsome as Meli had hinted; both a little over six feet tall, tanned, their long layered haircuts bleached by the sun. Dave was blond with blue eyes and Dan had darker hair and brown eyes. Both had pale circles around their eyes from wearing sunglasses. One of them was wearing enough Polo cologne for all of us. It didn’t really matter that I couldn’t tell which one it was.

Meli velcroed herself to Dave’s side, so there was never any question of who belonged to whom. To my chagrin, Dan seemed to think I was there as his date, despite Meli’s pledge that it wasn’t one. His style involved leaning and leering, so I thought it best to keep him talking, even though the loud music made it tricky to hear what he said. 

I took a sip of my wine. “You both just moved here, right? Are you working?” 

“Yeah, babe. I’m an assistant coach for volleyball at UH and I work at the Honolulu Club in their gym.” 

I didn’t have to say much. He was mostly interested in talking about himself, and pretty quickly I learned all I needed to know. I just kept sipping my wine, trying to keep track of the thread of his monologue and prompting him with the occasional wide-eyed “Oh, really?” 

Someone opened one of the big sliding windows behind us, letting in a breeze off the water that stirred around the humid air. It felt good and, as Mr. Boring went on about himself, I started to wish I could take a walk down on the beach.

As a sign of how desperate I was, when the DJ put a pop-y hip-hop song, Jump Around, on the turntable, I said, “Let’s dance.”

Dan took my hand and tried to pull me back into my seat. I leaned back on my heels, tugging on him until he stood up. “Come on, Meli,” I yelled and grabbed her arm. As much as I hated to dance, it was a better option than listening to more stories of volleyball heroism. 

The dance floor ran the width of the room, bordered by windows on one side and a DJ booth on the other. Once Dan and I meshed ourselves into the mass of sweaty bodies, I started to swing back and forth, hoping I was close to the beat. Dan didn’t want to let go of my hand, which made things totally weird. He was just as oblivious to the rhythm of the music, relying instead on the white-boy-bob instead of actually dancing. He made me want to giggle, so I kept my eyes on the couples around me. 

Then I made my big mistake; I glanced over at the DJ booth. Surprise threw my heart rate into double time. The guy behind the turntables looked a whole lot like Jack from the beach. I couldn’t tell if it really was him, but the flashing lights made shadows out of a pair of dimples that were real familiar. All I could think of was getting off the dance floor, so I dragged Dan back to the table. He was easy to drag because he had yet to let go of my hand.

The night had reached a messy point. From what I could see, Meli and Dave were slow dancing to MC Hammer, which was pretty lame. I couldn’t free myself from a guy who was so self-absorbed I doubted he’d remember my name. And there was a good chance Mr. Trouble was breathing the same air I was. It was almost enough to make me wish I could have twenty or thirty pounds back just so they’d all leave me alone.

Oh no, sistah! You DO NOT want to gain that weight back. Not really. Because who knows what may happen in next week's installment...
Mahalo,
Liv 

Keep reading! Here's a link to Part 4 !