ch3 pg 19-21

I found the morning paper and checked the headlines.
Great. More rain. I was just about half way through the sports section when Kua took a left and pulled onto Ena Road.
He reached into the basket for another burger as we pulled up to the front door of the Hilton.
The front door man watched me approach trying to decide whether or not there was a tip for him in my pocket. The blank stare I got told me he had me pegged as just another local. He turned his back as I neared and walked back to his podium.
I stood in front of him and nodded, "Is Willy here?"
"Willy who?" He asked me with all the interest of a car salesman looking for prospects in the unemployment line. He fingered the whistle he had strung around his neck and waited for a cab to come up the driveway. I guess he had better things to do than help out a guy who was looking for a friend.
The problem I had with him was that the friend i was looking for was a good friend. The door man was acting as if he would have trouble giving me the time of day. I tried another approach.
"Willy Kanemoto, who else? How many Willys you got working here?" Sometimes an attitude helped. That and the fact that Willy was a Bell Captain helped to change his expression.
His faced relaxed and broke into a false smile. "Oh, Willy! You can find him at the Diamond Head door." He pointed to the rear of the hotel complex.
I thanked him as I walked away. I glanced back and saw him talking into his radio.
The Hilton was one of the premier hotels on the island. It's four towers and excellent restaurants drew thousands of visitors a month. It helped to have two thousand rooms, it's own beach, it's own lagoon and it's own boat all on the property. The best hotel job in Waikiki was at the Hilton.
I know, I worked there once.
The penguins and flamingos watched me cross the main lobby and head toward the rear entrance of the hotel. Three tour buses were parked front to back with tourists lined up and down the walkway either getting on or getting off.
The path I took lead me to a tall, lanky local Japanese male holding a clipboard and marking pen. His thin build contadicted the fact that he handled most of the suitcases he was marking with one hand. For each bag, he called out a name and room number. His hair was cut close to his head and he sported a neatly trimmed goatee.
Willy and six other bellmen were marking bags lined up in front of the door. The line of suitcases was growing longer.
"Willy."
"Eh, what's up Dee?" Willy said without looking up. He looked like he was busy and couldn't be bothered. Bellmen were loading bags on their carts and heading toward the elevators. None of them gave me a second look.
"I was just passing by and decided to stop by and see how you were doing." I was feeling a bit awkward; it had been awhile since I last saw him.
Willy looked at me and stopped what he was doing. "Dee, you show up at the wierdest times. What can I do for you?"
Four of the other bellmen had run off with their loads. Even Willy had back up.
"You know I only come to you for help," I said.
He paused and looked at me. "I get off at four. I'll stop by."
Samantha came to mind. It wasn't time to show my cards. "Uh, why don't I just meet you at the usual place."
He gave me a look and nodded his head.
Willy and I seemed to communicate without speaking. He was a full blooded Okinawan while I only held half that distinction.
Somewhere along the line I had heard that Okinawans were mystics of some sort. The relationship Willy and I had was difficult to explain. We nodded to each other as I walked away. Our business was done.
I stopped and faced him. "By the way, tell the doorman I appreciated the extra help."
Willy chuckled and went back to his list.