“Scratching your balls while shooting targets isn’t considered multi-tasking,” he counters.
“You’re funny,” I tell him. I wave to a cab driver and wrap my arm around Aya to guide her in the right direction.
“I’ll meet you at the hotel in a bit, and we’ll go over more details then. Sound good?” he asks.
“I’ll see you then,” I tell him.
Aya and I slide into the back seat of the cab, and I buckle her seatbelt. “We’re heading to Wailea Royal,” I tell the driver.
He peels away from the curb without a response. My truck won’t be here until tomorrow since it was the first available transfer service I could get the thing onto this week. I couldn’t make any firm plans until a couple days ago since anything can change without a moment’s notice in the Marines. I guess being at a hotel isn’t the worst place to be without a vehicle. Of course, anywhere is better than staying in Oahu for another day, with or without a truck.
We arrive at the hotel, and I immediately feel out of place as I watch people coming and going in their upper-class attire—white linen pants and Tommy Bahama shit. Here I am in a pair of running shorts and a Nike tee. At least Aya fits the part. She’s dressed nicely thanks to Molli taking care of her this morning. We’re still clashing on our differentiating thoughts on appropriate apparel, but I assume this will get a lot worse before it gets better.
Check in is simple, ending with a quick mention of my name in exchange for a key.Who the hell is Noa sleeping with here?
“You got your swimsuit in your bag, right?” I ask Aya. We don’t typically go far without our pool gear since there’s always a place to stop and cool off in this part of the country. It’s one of the many reasons I’m staying here away from the states. It’s paradise, and I don’t have any good reason to head back to Texas.
“Of course I do, silly,” she says.
“Okay, let’s go change quickly, and we’ll head down to the pool.” Aya emits an ear-piercing shriek, and her sandals clap against the tiled floor as she runs toward the elevators as if she knows exactly where to go. I guess she’s stayed in enough hotels throughout her short life to know where things are supposed to be.
“It’s not even that busy,” Aya shouts while running right for the water.
“It’s busy enough that you need to wait up, kiddo. You know better than to run near the pool.” Aya stops dead in her tracks and gives off a look to inform me I’ve embarrassed her. I hold my hands up. “I’m sorry, just no running. I don’t want you to get into any trouble with a lifeguard.”
“Why would a cute little girl like her get in trouble with a lifeguard?” I’m asked. I turn around, surprised to be spoken to by anyone here. You’d think the cap on my head that’s curved over my eyes would discourage anyone from engaging in conversation with me.
“Excuse me?” I ask, turning to face a lifeguard—a drop-dead gorgeous lifeguard with oversized sunglasses and a killer tan.
“I was kidding,” she says, nudging her glasses down the bridge of her nose.
The woman’s eyes are startlingly beautiful—two round copper pennies with dark caramel outlines. She’s like a Hawaiian goddess. I swear these hotels hire models to play the staffing roles. “I hope so,” I reply. “I don’t want my daughter breaking any rules just yet.”
“She’s fine,” the woman says. “Relax.”
Wow. You’d think I was diving off the deep-end by the tone of her voice as she’s telling me to calm down.“You’re telling me to relax? You’re the one who looks miserable sitting there in front of a beautiful pool under the big open sky.”
“It’s my job. Who smiles while working?” she asks while flipping her long, dark braid over her shoulder.
“Um, I think in the hospitality industry, it’s part of your job.” Why am I arguing with a hot chick I don’t even know? I obviously need to get laid. Plus, I’m apparentlyuptight.
“Actually,” she replies, without hiding the hostility she’s obviously feeling, “I’m supposed to be serious since I need to keep an eye on everyone in the pool to make sure no one drowns.”
“Well, there aren’t any kids in the pool yet, so you can loosen up a little, I’m sure.”
“Dad?” Aya calls me from the steps of the pool. “I’m going in.”
“Believe it or not, it’s not the kids I have to worry about,” the lifeguard says. “It’s the arrogant visitors I have to keep an eye on.” With her last word, she pushes her aviator sunglasses back up her freckled nose and straightens her posture.
“What’s your name?” I ask even though I’m sure the conversation ended when she recovered her eyes. Still, can’t hurt to try.
She turns her head and glances over at me, adding in a snide chuckle for good measure. “No.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, ‘No.’”
“I’m Denver,” I say, reaching my hand out to her.
“No,” she says again, but this time with a tease of a smirk.
