Page 38 of True Abandon

I clap my hands. “Yes, that’s the one. One of those for Mr. Davis, please.” I point to his booth and then lean into the bar and whisper, “And make it extra special.”

He sways his bald-head from side to side seeming unsure. “You sure you want to tamper with a guest like that?”

“Yes, I do.” I lean back and look over to the booth. Jax is looking down at his phone and typing feverishly.

“If you say so,” Isaiah agrees as he grabs a glass to make the drink.

I peek over at Jax who is shaking his head with a scowl on his face. Whatever he’s texting about is not making him happy.

“Who’s the shark bait?” Kal asks as he returns to the bar, thumbing over to Jax. It’s a term the locals use for tourists.

“Just a guest,” I reply.

“Seemed like more than just a guest.”

“Heard you were juggling fire last night.” I deflect.

He raises a hand to his head and rubs his temples. He has beautiful light-brown skin free of a single blemish. “Yeah. Too many Longboards,” he says, and I raise a brow knowing it wasn’t just beer that got Kal wasted. “And tequila.”

“You hurting today?”

“It’s not too bad. Drinking a lot of water.” He looks at me warily and tugs at a button on his shirt. “We good?”

With a gentle punch in his arm, I say, “Of course. Friends, right?”

“Friends.” There’s relief in his voice. His eyes dart to the side as he gives a bashful grin.

Bang! A loud noise forces my attention back to the bar and the spot to my left. Benji, one of the night dancers, has thrown a knife into the back wall behind the bar.

“Pupule!” Isaiah shouts. “What is wrong with you?”

“I got it, bruddahs!” Benji declares with his Pidgin accent. He’s extra high-energy than his usual five-foot-four self. His curly, dark hair is pulled back in a hair-tie. “I’m goin to trow daggahs at the luau!”

Isaiah grabs a bottle of tequila and pours liquor into the glass. “Dagger throwing is a circus act, not for a traditional luau. What’s wrong with the fire dance?”

Isaiah pulls the dagger out of the wall and brushes off the dust that’s splintered up from the wood.

Benji takes the knife back. “I’ve done that a million times. I want to trow a daggah at someone’s head.”

Kal runs a hand over his head as if he’s picturing himself having a dagger thrown at it by Benji. By the shake of his shoulders, I can see the imagery is unsettling.

“You want to, or you’re going to?” I ask cautiously.

With a huge grin, Benji bobs his head, “I’m doin’ it. I’ve been takin’ lessons, and I’m ready. I just got tah go ahead from Rafael. Showed him my certification and everythin’.”

I smack my forehead at the thought of Raf giving Benji the okay to throw knives at someone.

“I need an assistant. Trish, you up for it?” Benji asks with enthusiasm.

I shake my head in a definitive “no.”

Isaiah shoos Benji away. “Hemu. And take your knives with you. You’re scaring the guests.”

“You no fun. I’m performin’ tonight. You come see, won’t you?” Benji asks with the excitement of a ten-year-old on a roller coaster.

Isaiah throws a towel at Benji, urging him out of the restaurant.

“What the fuck?” Jax’s sudden shout from his table forces the four of us, and almost everyone in the restaurant, to turn in his direction. A green margarita is on the table, and he’s guzzling a glass of ice water.