Free Livin' Lahaina Loca by JoAnn Bassett Page A

not actually sick—she got
a nasty infection from a dirty needle at a tat shop. Her back’s so puffed up
she looks like a beached turtle.”
    I
didn’t say anything. Not that I didn’t feel bad for the poor girl, but I was
contemplating what I suspected was coming.
    “Anyway,”
he went on, “I need a hostess to help serve drinks and food at a sailing party
I’m doing over there. My first mate can mix drinks and help me at the dock, but
I need a pretty face to make sure everyone has a good time.”
    Again,
I was silent. The pretty face comment was working its way through my BS
detector.
    “We’ll
only be gone a couple of days. Well, actually, three. We’ll go over early
tomorrow, then stay Sunday for the party, and then we’ll head back at
oh-dark-thirty on Monday morning. I know you’ve got this big wedding coming up,
so if it’s too much to ask, just say so. But you seemed so cheerful when you
came out to the dock yesterday I thought you might get a kick out of it. Oh,
and it pays a couple hundred bucks—not that you probably need the money—but
just in case you were wondering.”
    Ha!
Little did he know how much I’d welcome an unexpected two hundred dollars.
    “You’re
not saying anything,” he said. “Have I insulted you? Am I way out of line
here?”
    “No,
not at all. It’s just that I’ll need to check my calendar. Can you give me an
hour or so and I’ll call you back?”
    “Of
course. No worries. I just thought you might enjoy it. I stay at the owner’s
high rise when I’m over there and she’s the consummate hostess. First class all
the way. The first mate’s got some old high school buddies he hangs out with,
but Tomika always insists I stay with her.”
    Lucky for you, I thought, but I’ll be hard pressed to find
a last-minute hotel room in Honolulu that won’t cost me most of the two hundred
bucks.
    “Well,
it sounds like fun,” I said. “Can I get back to you by noon?”
    I
hung up the phone wondering why I hadn’t simply declined right away. Was I some
kind of masochist? Maybe I was way nosier than I admitted. Or was it that
slipping out to sea, sailing past Moloka’i, and over to O’ahu with a gorgeous
boat captain at my elbow and the wind in my hair made me think of that king
of the world thing?
    Spending
three days with charming Ono, even though it meant coming face-to-face with his
love interest, was probably worth it. And besides, meeting his wealthy,
sophisticated girlfriend would most assuredly snap me out of my reverie and
make me focus on the task at hand: figuring out where I stood with fireman
Hatch Decker.
    ***
    I
made the rest of my callbacks and soon it was almost noon. I went through my
to-do list for Keith and Nicole’s wedding and found only one item that still
required my attention—selecting the limo cars and drivers. I’d heard that on
the mainland wedding planners simply sign up with a reputable limo company and
they’re assured of clean, well-appointed cars that arrive at the right place at
the right time. The cars would be gleaming, inside and out, and the drivers
would be in freshly-pressed uniforms. Moreover, they’d be gracious and
accommodating—knowing such behavior would earn them a good tip.
    On
Maui, it wasn’t that simple. I’d once used a limo company that had given me
good cars and drivers for months and then—without warning—disaster. Later, I
found out the owner had grown tired of the business and had handed it over to
his teen-aged nephew as a high school graduation gift. The next time I used
them, clueless nephew showed up half-an-hour late wearing a tee-shirt
splattered with plate lunch. Then, he tried to bum twenty bucks off my client
for gas. He had the radio blaring rap songs with lyrics that would have been
bleeped out on TV. The limo interior was littered with beer bottles, fast-food
wrappers and a girlie magazine. When my enraged client called me on his cell
phone, I contacted the limo service to demand another car and