Authors: Karina Halle
“Right or not, we are. If Juliet has something to say about it, she can give us a sign.”
Just then a bottle behind the bar crashes to the ground and smashes to smithereens. People in the bar give a hearty cry, “Opa!” and the bartender gives a bow.
Charlie and I look at each other warily.
“Anyway,” I say quickly. “Keep going.”
“You ever seen that movie the Stepford Wives? With Nicole Kidman?”
“Yeah.”
“Like that. A little too perfect. Always smiling, always had the right thing to say. She never raised her voice, never got upset. She was kind of robotic, and sometimes I thought it was a little bit fake. Like a mask. Like she was hiding something underneath that was anything but.” He throws up a hand. “I don’t know, don’t listen to me. These are just things I think of when I get too high.”
Juliet the Stepford Wife. I can’t help but feel there’s some truth in what he’s saying. But if we only saw the mask, then who was the real Juliet? Did Logan ever see her? Or was she a mystery to him to?
Maybe that’s why he cheated on her
, I think.
He never felt he was married to someone real to begin with.
But of course that’s just making excuses for him, and that’s the last thing I want to do right now.
“Anyways,” Charlie goes on, a bit pink in the cheeks and clearly uncomfortable, “I don’t mean any harm by it. She was lovely. And I could see how living up to that would be hard when you’re clearly nothing like her.”
I frown. “What does that mean?”
He sighs and adjusts himself on top of the tiki stool, slipping his bare feet on the metal rung beneath the bar. “I feel like this conversation has the power to take a horribly wrong turn. For me.”
“Charlie,” I warn. “Tell me or I’ll tell Kate you were with another girl tonight.”
“I wasn’t!” he exclaims. “She’s just a friend.” Then his features go aloof. “And there’s nothing between me and Kate anyway. So I don’t care.”
I kick his leg. “Tell me.”
“It’s not an insult,” he says. “You’re just…the opposite. Yeah you kinda look the same, the eyes mainly. But you’re like…a hurricane. And she was the…”
“Calm before the storm?”
“No. She was the underground bunker. The shelter. Could withstand anything and come out looking clean while everything around her is destroyed. She could hide and avoid damage.” He groans. “Fuck, I’m getting introspective and I’m not even high. Do you want to go?”
I nod, even though Charlie is making more sense than he thinks.
When we get back in the truck, he asks. “So what was the drama you were discussing with Logan then?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Does the story involve unresolved sexual tension?”
“What?” I snap.
He grins at me. “I’m just messing with you.”
I watch him carefully for a few beats, making sure he really is “taking the piss” as Logan would say, before I say, “You better be.”
Even so, as I go to bed that night my brain is reeling with too many things.
And then I’m dreaming.
About Logan.
About Juliet.
About her swimming during the golden hour, when the sun goes down behind the mountains and the ocean is tinged with gold. Metallic waves crash on the shore, pink and coral clouds float above. It’s my favorite time of day in Kauai, maybe because I’m always working at sunset and rarely get to see it.
In my dream Juliet has swum far past the reef and Logan is on shore, yelling for her to come back, that there are sharks and rips and other dangers. That she will die.
But she doesn’t listen. She waves, happy as always, and just keeps swimming. Everything is fine with her, everything is perfect. Nothing could ever endanger Juliet.
So Logan takes off his shirt, about to jump in after her. His body gleams in the light, every taught muscle, every slope and ridge.
Then he stops. Pauses.
Turns around and sees me.
“Ronnie,” he says, using my nickname. “I didn’t see you there.”
Juliet is in danger
, I want to say. I can see her now, getting smaller and smaller and smaller.
But I can’t talk. I can’t do anything but wait for Logan while he strides toward me, scoops me up in his arms and kisses me until I can’t breathe.
“You’ve always been mine,” he murmurs and kisses me again as we fall to the sand.
Somewhere in the distance, Juliet is drowning.
It’s Thanksgiving. It doesn’t feel like Thanksgiving, since I’m not battling frigid temperatures and the early start of crazy holiday shoppers, but it’s Thanksgiving all the same.
Charlie has been gone for a few days now, so Johnny and I have been working overtime to make-up for it. They said that Thanksgiving is supposed to be the slow time of year but I guess they were wrong, because there seems to be more customers than ever. Johnny says they’re coming because of my cooking, but I have yet to confirm that.
I do know that the staff at Moonwater at least appreciates it, because Johnny and I slaved all day making the perfect Thanksgiving meal for everyone, which included a tofurkey for Kate since she’s vegan. We were able to shut the restaurant for the night in order to do so, with Logan’s permission. Johnny handled that one, since, once again, Logan and I have been avoiding each other this last week.
Now, the turkey carcass has been annihilated and everyone looks sated. It’s just Daniel, Jin, Nikki, Kate, Logan, Johnny, and I, but any more people and we would have had to get another bird. Johnny was born on Kauai (not a
haole
) so he’s having dinner with his family tomorrow afternoon, but he still ate his fair share of the turkey.
“Pumpkin pie?” Johnny asks, coming out from the kitchen and to the middle of the restaurant where we’ve pushed a few tables together. “With Kauai spices. It’s vegan, just for you Kate.”
A few people groan, including myself, rubbing their bellies.
Logan gets up. “Thanks but no thanks, I better head back to reception.”
And then he’s gone, heading out across the parking lot, the rain this evening coming down steadily. Everyone looks at each other in mild surprise. He had put a sign on the reception telling guests where to find us if there was an emergency, so the real issue is that Logan doesn’t want to be here and I have a feeling it’s because of me.
“Well now that the boss is gone,” Daniel says, getting up and heading to the bar. “How about we graduate from the wine and onto something else?”
Soon everyone has some crazy cocktail in their hand that Dan whipped up on the spot and Jin, of all people, goes over to the stereo and puts Grandmaster Flash on.
“Brother,” Johnny exclaims. “All this time and I didn’t know you were a Grandmaster Flash fan!”
“Who is Grandmaster Flash?” Jin says, completely sincere.
“Never mind, good choice.” And then Johnny moves to the center of the room and starts dancing, making his big belly fly.
I’m not one for dancing, no matter how drunk I am and especially not when I’m still stuffed with turkey, so I stay at the bar with Daniel and watch the scene unfold as everyone gets up to dance, lured by 80’s rap and alcohol. Even Jin is doing a boogie that involves shuffling from side to side.
“Too bad Logan is missing this,” I comment, taking a sip of a pineapple-ginger concoction and laughing as Johnny starts doing some Michael Jackson-esque moves in front of Kate. She is not impressed.
“Yeah,” Daniel says carefully. “But I don’t think this holiday is easy on him.”
I give him a look. “And you think it’s easy on me?”
Daniel doesn’t back down. “No. But things are a bit different on Logan’s end. He has no one here. Juliet was his family.”
“You’re all his family,” I point out.
He shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. Maybe at one point we were but he shut us out. He got burned and then he lost it all. People seem to blame him but I really can’t. I know what he’s gone through.”
The conversation is confusing me—I’m not sure we’re talking about the same thing. “You’ve lost someone too?”
“No, I mean—I know what happened…” He lowers his voice over this last part, leaning in slightly, as if handling a secret.
“Well I know what happened too,” I tell him. “And he’s a dick. It’s completely his fault if their marriage fell apart.”
He straightens up and frowns. “That’s a bit harsh. How do you figure?”
I look at him blankly. “Uh, because he cheated on her.”
“Juliet?” Daniel asks.
Oh shit. Did he not know that?
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “Logan cheated on Juliet. I don’t know who with. I already asked him if it was that Charlotte chick but he denied it. He did not deny cheating on her though.”
Daniel stares at me for a few moments before tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. “Wow. Okay.”
“What?” I lean forward, pressing my hands on the table. “What?!”
Daniel takes a furtive look around and leans in. “Where did you hear that from?”
“From my own sister.”
He seems to think for a moment, then he straightens up and shrugs, turning his attention back to the bottles behind him. “She was lying,” he says simply.
It takes all of my strength to keep my next words to a whisper. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He exhales loudly and then turns around. “Look. I was there okay? It was my client.”
I can only blink at him, my heart pounding in my head. I feel like I’m about to have an out of body experience.
“Listen, I shouldn’t be the one to tell you this because it’s none of my business, but I thought you knew so you can see I’m in a bit of a predicament.” He looks around as if we’re being bugged and starts wiping down the bar. “Jared Bellamy. That was my client. A hot-shot lawyer from LA. You know, the type that takes on celebrity and high-profile cases. He was here looking to buy a house on the north shore. Says his buddy Ben Stiller loves it here and he had to do the same.” He rolls his eyes. “Anyway, he comes here to the bar and I say I’m also a real estate agent. I give him my card. Juliet comes in and, well, you know what happens when Juliet walks in a room.”
I don’t say anything, I’m too enthralled. I nod at him to keep going.
“So Bellamy, he’s got it hard for her, obviously, and I point out that’s the boss. You know, she and her husband own the hotel. And it’s like he doesn’t care. But whatever, not my problem. The next day, I pick him up and show him around. He hangs out at the bar later. Juliet takes a seat. They’re talking most of the evening. Nothing weird about that, right, because Juliet always liked talking to guests and people. Kind of a politician in that way. But then he’s here every night. Even on the days when I’m not showing him houses. And she’s here too. Like clockwork.”
My throat feels thick as I try to speak. “Did anyone else notice?”
“No,” he says. “But Logan did eventually. One night. It got kind of awkward. Walked on over and gave Bellamy the look like he was going to murder him. I had to make all the introductions and play it off, but Logan knew there was something wrong. And me, I only suspected.” He pauses. “You sure you want to hear the rest?”
“You’ve gone too far to stop,” I whisper.
He takes in a deep breath and leans in closer. “So Bellamy is staying at the Westin Princeville resort. Has his own little hut. I’m supposed to pick him up at four to show him some houses on my day off, but Lucia calls in sick, so I can’t. And I can’t get a hold of him on the phone either, so I decide to drive up there.”
I feel like I’m watching a movie. A terrible movie playing inside my head and the climax is building and building and building. I’m on the edge of my seat, the edge of something that will change everything. If I stop Dan from speaking, I can preserve the world as I know it. If he keeps talking, my world will fall apart. I know this now.
And I let him keep talking.
“The door was open. I still knocked. It’s a two-bedroom condo, he would have to hear me. I step inside the front door. I hear the shower going and figure I’ll leave him a note. I go into the kitchen and pick up a pen and paper and I write him a note about the change of plans. As I do so I notice a purse on the counter. Normally I would think, hey Bellamy, good for you. But the purse is familiar. Juliet had a designer bag, Kate Spade or something I think, with lots of palm trees. It was the same bag. And then I notice the woman’s underwear on the floor, a skirt, a man’s polo shirt. A trail of clothes leading to the bedroom. And that’s when it hits me…this is Juliet here. He’s showering with her.” He sighs sharply. “I’m not proud of what I did next but I had to be sure in my mind. I opened the purse, found her wallet. It was her.”
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The truth is laid out plain and clear and I’ve been a complete fucking fool but even so, the hero-worshiping illness I have with my sister is too strong. “That doesn’t mean anything,” I say feebly. “She could have left it there…and been there for another reason. You don’t know it was her in the shower.”