THE Islander was a small inn compared to the mega hotels in Waikiki. What made us unique was that we were a full service hotel. I believed that people payed for service. As a guest, all you had to do was ask, and it was done. Tipping was not allowed.
If you've ever been on a cruise or stayed at a four star hotel, you know what I'm talking about. Our slogan was to give the guest more than they expected. In the Islander, there was no want.
Once we flew a messenger over to Maui to acquire a certain type of ice cream that was not available on Oahu. He was back in time for dessert.
My managers were all hand picked, they were the best in their positions. In the four years or so since I had been here, the hotel had finally seen a profit.
Personalized serviced was what I preached. If people wanted to come back to the same hotel, then we were doing our jobs. We offered all the same things the big hotels did, just on a personalized basis. Not a day went by when I didn't see a guest I knew by name. What I was trying to build was a family. I hoped I was succeeding.
That's what I called work.
I got out of the elevator and checked with Mark to see if I had any messages. He smiled at me and shook his head.
"Is our guest up yet?" I asked.
"She's been busy."
Again he hit me with the smile.
I opened up my door and was hit with the smell of cooking food. I was already hungry.
Samantha was sitting on my couch in a strapless dress that stopped above her knees. It looked like it was made out of cotton, but it hugged her body like shrink wrap. She smiled and crossed her legs as I passed her on my way to the kitchen.
I pretended I didn't notice although for second I forgot about the rumble in my stomach.
"What have you been up to?" I asked her.
"I though you might be ready for dinner," she said. "Your kitchen is well equipped so I thought I'd whip something up."
Mary from customer service was in the kitchen. She saw me, wiped her hands on her apron and headed for the table. I looked at her and then at Samantha. Mary gave me a weak smile and made a beeline for the door.
"What inspired you cook dinner?" I asked her. No one had cooked for me in ages. I was flattered.
"I cooked for Daddy all the time," Samantha said as she walked into my seldom used kitchen. "I just wanted you to come back to a home cooked meal."
I followed her and looked around. There were two pots simmering on the stove, their lids rattling with each exhale of steam. The door to the oven was partly open, like she was keeping something warm. The smells sent my stomach rumbling.
"What is it?" I asked, grabbing a beer from the fridge. I reached over to open the oven door but Samantha slammed it shut.
"It's a surprise."
"I love surprises," I said cheerfully. I hated surprises. I sipped my beer and sat down at the dining room table. The phone held my attention as I waited for it to ring.
"Here's your appetizer."
She brought out a plate of oysters on the half shell.
"I got these downstairs," she admitted. "But the rest of dinner I cooked myself."
I dug into the oysters and finished my beer.
"Let me get you another." She grabbed my empty bottle and went back in the kitchen.
I wasn't used to being served in my own home. Samantha seemed anxious to please me. She handed me another beer and took a seat next to me. In her hand was a glass of wine that she brought to her lips and sipped from. I couldn't help feel like I was on a date.
"You read all of those?" she asked, motioning to my bookshelf.
I took a sip of beer and smiled at her. "No, I just keep them there for good looks. If you open them, all the pages are blank." It made me uneasy to think that someone was getting a glimpse of my life. I had lived alone for so long.
She stared at me for a second before she realized I was kidding. Her face broke out in an embarrassed smile. "I've met anyone who reads so much. I used to read a lot."
"What made you stop?"
Samantha's forehead crinkled as she stopped to think. "I guess that I just don't have the time anymore."
"You have to make time."
She got up and walked over to the shelf. The only sound I heard was the swish of fabric as she made her way across the room. I followed her.
"In Cold Blood?"
"Capote. He also wrote Breakfast at Tiffanys."
"I remember the movie. Audrey Hepburn." Her slender hand moved across the shelf.
Samantha was naturally graceful. The way she held herself and the way she walked was enough to grab anyones attention. I couldn't keep my eyes off of her.
"Chandler?"
My spine tingled as she dragged a fingernail across the volumes on the shelf. It was like she was raking her nail across my back.
Samantha looked back at me. "I think I read Chandler in high school." She turned her back to me and continued to scan the volumes on the shelf. "Is that why you are the way you are?"
"What do you mean?"
"Hard boiled."
I blinked my eyes. I had been called a lot of things in my life before, but hard boiled was new to my ears.
"Like an egg?"
She turned and let her dark eyes bore into mine just long enough to tell me she was serious. The dress she wore made her look both seductive and dangerous at the same time.
People have called me cold and calculating. Those in the say I am too quick to trust, too quick to take one's word. The greatest compliment I ever received was when someone called me eccentric. I suppose it meant I was both.
Samantha went back to the books.
"You seem to have an affection for the thirties and forties."
I tried to explain. "I think I was born late. Life now is so planned, so thought out. During those days, men lived by instinct, that's how it was supposed to be."
I leaned against my sliding door and watched the rain cascade against the glass. "Relationships were based upon something. People waited for each other to find their fortunes. People had faith."
I sipped at me beer and looked out the window. I watched her in the reflection on the glass. "Either you loved someone or you didn't. You either found the one you were looking for or you didn't. I believe there's only so much to go around."
I was beginning to lecture. I didn't want to sound like my father.
Samantha smiled at me. I think she knew what I was talking about.
The phone rang.
ch6 pg 39-42
FATTY"S was located just off the strip that led into Waikiki. It was a simple drabby building that shared it's parking lot with a muffler shop. No neon signs to welcome you; nothing to even indicate whether or not the place was open for business. If the door was open, they were open. If it was closed, they were closed.
I paid the cabby and ran through the rain for the open door. Despite the outward appearance, Fatty's was furnished nicely. the place was well lighted and clean. The booths were upholstered in brightly colored vinyl and the tables were spotless. There were two big screen T.V.s located where all could see. The light colored carpet looked like it had just been installed for there were no worn spots to be seen. A full sized pool table sat in one corner and electronic dart machines rested in the other. The smell of Chinese food made my stomach rumble. Fatty's was like a second home to me.
Walking into the place was like walking into a carnival. The effect was heightened by the Christmas trimmings hanging from the ceiling and the music blasting out of the old jukebox. Men and women filled the booths, their tables crowded with food and drink. Bursts of laughter erupted from various corners of the room like people cheering for some unseen challenge. The electronic dart machines blared out sing song bleeps every time a bulls eye was hit, which was often. The click and clatter of billiard balls broke the silence between songs. No one looked up when I entered. No one cared.
People from all walks of life came to Fatty's. From the blue collar guy to the business men that pulled up in expensive cars, they came because they loved the place. When you walked in the bar, you left your status at the door.
I scanned the room looking for familiar faces and came up empty. There was a time when I could have called half the people in the place by name. Being here felt too much like I some lost soul who was trying to recapture something in my past.
There was no sign of Willy so I sat down at the bar and ordered a beer. Chin, the bar owner approached and put a napkin down in front of me.
"Long time," Chin said. He wasn't much for words.
"I've been busy." What could I say? I didn't have to give him a reason for my lack of patronage.
"First one on me."
I was surprised he remembered my brand. He put a fresh beer and cup of ice in front of me. The local term for this was a beer and a bucket of ice. Once I had ordered the same thing on the mainland, the bartender game me a beer in a bucket of ice. Leinani and I almost died laughing at that one.
I nursed my drink and looked around the room. The memories that started to come back to me were like an unwanted pet. The harder you tried to get rid of them, the harder it became.
Leinani and I came here often to just hang out. When we had no special place to be, we could found here. You know you are a regular when you start getting phone calls from at the bar from people looking for you.
I looked at all the friends and couples sitting around, laughing and having a good time. Here I was, by myself, just my memories to keep me company.
I shook the self pity out of my head and motioned to Chin. "You see Willy around here?"
He shook his head and walked away.
My attention was drawn to the T.V. behind the bar. The early news was featuring a piece on the Tiger Sharks. I watched the program and poured the rest of my beer into my glass. Chin appeared out of nowhere and replaced the empty bottle with a new one.
"I hope they win. I got some bucks on them."
The guy two seats away was talking to his friend. Between them, there were three plates of food they were trying to eliminate.
"You crazy," the other guy said. His chopsticks were working overtime.
"I telling you, the line going change."
"I ain't worried. They going win. Outright."
I smiled to myself. The guy was confident. Someone put a hand on my shoulder. I almost jumped.
"You getting old brah. Now you letting people sneak up behind you."
Willy.
"I was getting worried. Thought you weren't showing up. Was getting ready to leave."
Willy chuckled and motioned to Chin. "We going in the office."
Chin nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.
I hopped off the bar stool, dropped a five on the counter and followed Willy to the back.
The office was sparsely furnished with a desk, a file cabinet, and a calendar that hung on the wall above some beer boxes in the corner. The room reeked of cigarette smoke and mildew. An ashtray overflowing with half smoked butts sat in front of me. Willy took a seat behind the desk.
"So what's up? What can I do for you?"
"Not even going to ask me how I'm doing?"
"I know what you doing," Willy said.
We smiled at each other. Willy and I went back a long ways, to the days when I worked at the Hilton. Although we hardly say each other, when we did it was like we had seen each other yesterday.
"I need all the information you can get me on a bookie named Greenie and a runner named Chucky."
"What's this all about?" he asked.
I looked him in the eye. He didn't look away.
"Willy, you know when I ask, it means trouble," I said, warning him.
"If you like lay down one bet, you can trust me."
"If I wanted to lay down a bet, I'd call Vegas. When you figure it out call me."
"That ain't much to go on," he said.
"That's all I got."
Willy looked down at the table. He was thinking about all the people he would have to talk to. What I was asking was not a small job.
He smiled at me. "I'll be in touch."
I stood up to leave.
"What about Manny?"
I stopped and looked back. I hadn't even thought of Manny Fernandez.
Manny and I grew up together. On different sides of the fence.
"What about him?" I asked.
Willy shrugged and looked away. Our conversation was over.
Chin called out at me as I passed the bar. "Eh Darling."
"Yeah?" I walked up to where he was leaning on the counter. One of the waitresses wearing a Santa hat stood next to him.
"She only come here on Wednesdays."
I stared at him for a second before nodding my head and walking out the door.
I paid the cabby and ran through the rain for the open door. Despite the outward appearance, Fatty's was furnished nicely. the place was well lighted and clean. The booths were upholstered in brightly colored vinyl and the tables were spotless. There were two big screen T.V.s located where all could see. The light colored carpet looked like it had just been installed for there were no worn spots to be seen. A full sized pool table sat in one corner and electronic dart machines rested in the other. The smell of Chinese food made my stomach rumble. Fatty's was like a second home to me.
Walking into the place was like walking into a carnival. The effect was heightened by the Christmas trimmings hanging from the ceiling and the music blasting out of the old jukebox. Men and women filled the booths, their tables crowded with food and drink. Bursts of laughter erupted from various corners of the room like people cheering for some unseen challenge. The electronic dart machines blared out sing song bleeps every time a bulls eye was hit, which was often. The click and clatter of billiard balls broke the silence between songs. No one looked up when I entered. No one cared.
People from all walks of life came to Fatty's. From the blue collar guy to the business men that pulled up in expensive cars, they came because they loved the place. When you walked in the bar, you left your status at the door.
I scanned the room looking for familiar faces and came up empty. There was a time when I could have called half the people in the place by name. Being here felt too much like I some lost soul who was trying to recapture something in my past.
There was no sign of Willy so I sat down at the bar and ordered a beer. Chin, the bar owner approached and put a napkin down in front of me.
"Long time," Chin said. He wasn't much for words.
"I've been busy." What could I say? I didn't have to give him a reason for my lack of patronage.
"First one on me."
I was surprised he remembered my brand. He put a fresh beer and cup of ice in front of me. The local term for this was a beer and a bucket of ice. Once I had ordered the same thing on the mainland, the bartender game me a beer in a bucket of ice. Leinani and I almost died laughing at that one.
I nursed my drink and looked around the room. The memories that started to come back to me were like an unwanted pet. The harder you tried to get rid of them, the harder it became.
Leinani and I came here often to just hang out. When we had no special place to be, we could found here. You know you are a regular when you start getting phone calls from at the bar from people looking for you.
I looked at all the friends and couples sitting around, laughing and having a good time. Here I was, by myself, just my memories to keep me company.
I shook the self pity out of my head and motioned to Chin. "You see Willy around here?"
He shook his head and walked away.
My attention was drawn to the T.V. behind the bar. The early news was featuring a piece on the Tiger Sharks. I watched the program and poured the rest of my beer into my glass. Chin appeared out of nowhere and replaced the empty bottle with a new one.
"I hope they win. I got some bucks on them."
The guy two seats away was talking to his friend. Between them, there were three plates of food they were trying to eliminate.
"You crazy," the other guy said. His chopsticks were working overtime.
"I telling you, the line going change."
"I ain't worried. They going win. Outright."
I smiled to myself. The guy was confident. Someone put a hand on my shoulder. I almost jumped.
"You getting old brah. Now you letting people sneak up behind you."
Willy.
"I was getting worried. Thought you weren't showing up. Was getting ready to leave."
Willy chuckled and motioned to Chin. "We going in the office."
Chin nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.
I hopped off the bar stool, dropped a five on the counter and followed Willy to the back.
The office was sparsely furnished with a desk, a file cabinet, and a calendar that hung on the wall above some beer boxes in the corner. The room reeked of cigarette smoke and mildew. An ashtray overflowing with half smoked butts sat in front of me. Willy took a seat behind the desk.
"So what's up? What can I do for you?"
"Not even going to ask me how I'm doing?"
"I know what you doing," Willy said.
We smiled at each other. Willy and I went back a long ways, to the days when I worked at the Hilton. Although we hardly say each other, when we did it was like we had seen each other yesterday.
"I need all the information you can get me on a bookie named Greenie and a runner named Chucky."
"What's this all about?" he asked.
I looked him in the eye. He didn't look away.
"Willy, you know when I ask, it means trouble," I said, warning him.
"If you like lay down one bet, you can trust me."
"If I wanted to lay down a bet, I'd call Vegas. When you figure it out call me."
"That ain't much to go on," he said.
"That's all I got."
Willy looked down at the table. He was thinking about all the people he would have to talk to. What I was asking was not a small job.
He smiled at me. "I'll be in touch."
I stood up to leave.
"What about Manny?"
I stopped and looked back. I hadn't even thought of Manny Fernandez.
Manny and I grew up together. On different sides of the fence.
"What about him?" I asked.
Willy shrugged and looked away. Our conversation was over.
Chin called out at me as I passed the bar. "Eh Darling."
"Yeah?" I walked up to where he was leaning on the counter. One of the waitresses wearing a Santa hat stood next to him.
"She only come here on Wednesdays."
I stared at him for a second before nodding my head and walking out the door.
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