The shortest route to the grocery store ran along Kamehameha Highway. The breeze that usually relieved the sticky warmth on this side of the island was no match for the asphalt and passing cars.
“It’s hot,” Libby complained, raising her voice so Jean could hear her above the hum of traffic.
“You gotta want it.”
Easy for her to say. Libby suspected Jean had ice water in her veins. That was the only logical explanation for her lack of pit sweat.
“Remember when we had a car?”
“Do you remember what it smelled like?” Jean yelled without turning. “Everyone thought we were high, even when we weren’t. Besides, it’s not like White Lightning had AC. You’d still be sweating balls.”
However much their car had sucked, not having one felt like a message from the universe.You’re going down!Saying no to gigs that weren’t on the bus line had quickly translated into fewer calls from the catering company, shrinking their paychecks even more.
Her thoughts full of tumbling dominoes and slippery slopes, Libby ignored the car pulling up alongside them until the familiar whine of the brakes tipped her off.
“What’s going on?” Keoki yelled over the soft rock blasting from the radio.
Libby held up the shopping bag. “Foodland.”
“You two are cooking?”
“Sure.” Jean poked at the air. “Beep, beep, ding.”
“Microwave,” Libby translated.
Keoki reached across the seat to open the door. “Get in. I’m going to Tutu’s house.”
Libby’s eyes met Jean’s for an instant before they lunged toward the car, shoving each other out of the way.
“Shotgun,” Jean grunted, throwing an elbow. Libby had the advantage of height, but her pocket-sized roommate wasn’t afraid to fight dirty.
“It’s my turn,” she reminded Jean.
“Snooze, you lose, loser.”
Behind them, someone honked. Libby gave in and climbed into the back.
“Careful,” Keoki warned, sliding a small red-and-white cooler out of the way.
Libby tracked it like a dog watching a squirrel. “What’s in there?”
“Profiteroles,” he said, pulling onto the road with a one-handed spin of the steering wheel.
Jean waited until he glanced at her to work the big eyes and pouty lips.
“Forget it. You’re not getting Tutu’s profiteroles.”
“You should be nice to us!” Jean folded her hands under her chin like a ceramic cherub. “We’re having a bad day.”
“Yeah, big bummer about Kalanikau’s.”
Libby leaned forward to poke Keoki in the shoulder. “What is?”
“You didn’t hear? Bought out. A mainland company. They’re going to make it a fancy place. Condos and all that.”
That was… not good. The old family-run hotel was the main venue for the banquets and business lunches that accounted for half the shifts she and Jean picked up in an average month. Libby fell back against the seat.
Keoki sent her a worried look in the rearview mirror. “Why? What else happened?”
