“I’ll check on her,” he promised, without specifying when.
Chapter 15
lovelillibetLeisure doesn’t have to be lazy if you make your downtime work for you. Whether that means repurposing your favorite hobby as a business or bringing a spirit of fun to your day job, the right attitude can be a game-changer. Why settle for a day when you can seize the play instead?
Love, Lillibet
Image: A tennis net stretched across a grass court with red hibiscus blooms woven through the mesh.
#playtopay #merchantoffun #carpeallday #seizetheplay
It was amazing how much a mountain of sticky rice and shrimp drowning in garlicky butter could improve your mood. Libby licked the back of her hand, catching a trickle of sauce before it slid past her wrist. Delicious, even with the base note of skin.
Running away from Mr. L had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, but in hindsight it felt like one of the few good choices she’d made lately, and not only because of the carbs. Escaping the Lillibet charade let her breathe freely for the first time all day. It reminded Libby of the time she and Jean had signed on to advertise a new burger joint, not realizing the job consisted of standing on a street corner in full-body foam costumes: a smiling milkshake for Libby, and an evil-looking sleeve of fries for Jean. Stripping off that sweaty food suit at the end of a shift had felt a lotlike this—a weight off her back and the thrilling taste of freedom. Who knew wearing your own face could be such a rush?
It didn’t hurt that this was a regular hangout spot in their real lives, a roadside collection of food trucks where you could get a killer meal for cheap. There were plenty of shrimp shacks along the North Shore, and Keoki knew (or was related to) most of the people running them, but the one at the old sugar mill in Kahuku was their favorite. Sitting at a picnic table in the open-air pavilion while string lights swayed in the breeze was the essence of relaxation. No more worrying about your posture or saying the wrong thing to the rich, powerful strangers you were trying to bamboozle.
“So she sort of offered you a job but not exactly the one you wanted.” Keoki set down the tail of his last shrimp, wiping his mouth with a recycled paper napkin. “Did I miss anything else?”
“I mentioned the story I’m writing about Tutu.”
“Good one.” He had absolute faith in the quality of Libby’s work, even though he hadn’t been allowed to read it. “Did you give it to her?”
Libby shook her head. “It’s not done.”
“All that running around like the Hamburglar is distracting you,” Jean said, slamming down her can of coconut stout. “Why don’t you tell Mr. L okay, but you want a long engagement? And maybe a small cash advance?”
“Did he say anything about kids?” Keoki asked, frowning at Libby’s stomach.
“No, no, no, and no. A world of no.” Libby cupped a protective hand over her food baby—the only kind she was planning to have anytime soon. “But I did find an application in my room for nontraditional degree seekers at Kapi’olani.”
“Community college?” Jean frowned. “Make him shell out for UH.”
“Did you forget the part where I don’t want to be his mail-order bride?”
Jean sighed. “If this is about your future boss’s boyfriend, it’s not going to happen.”
“I know.” Was it necessary to rub Libby’s face in it? “You heard what Hildy said. They can’t stand two-faced people. It’s a matter of time before all this blows up in my face.”
“Good thing you have a spare.” Jean elbowed Keoki, who shook his head.
“Not funny,” Libby told her roommate. “It’s going to get ugly.”
“Ah, go on.” Jean burped into her fist. “Things are looking surprisingly good. Not for your doomed romance, but it’s not like that’s a big loss.”
Keoki frowned. “I like Jefferson. He’s solid.”
“You like everyone,” Jean reminded him. “It’s disturbing. You’re going to have to bring your children to me so I can help them wise up before they get taken in by the first scam artist who tries to steal their lunch money.”
“I’m going to pack their lunches.”
“Really not the point.” Jean reached across him to grab his water. “You can find guys like Jefferson anywhere. If slightly generic dudes do it for you.”
“Jefferson isn’t generic,” Libby said.
“Name one interesting thing about him.”
Whatwasn’tinteresting about Jefferson? Libby found it hard not to hyper-focus on his physical presence: his voice, the planes of his face, the line of his shoulders, that slight frown tipping into quiet amusement. Libby was torn between relief that Jean didn’t feel the same pull and wanting to yell in her face,WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?
