Aloha Means Goodbye Read online

  Lahaina is a fascinating town. Foxx told me it used to be an old whaling town back in the 1800’s. The humpback whales migrate here during the winter. Unfortunately there aren’t nearly as many whales now as there used to be, but if you visit Maui during the winter months you can get a glimpse of them on any number of local whale-watching tours.

  Front Street is a fun mix of art galleries, souvenir shops, ice cream parlors, and restaurants. By the time we made our way down there, the festivities were in full swing.

  Three DJ’s, scattered along Front Street, were in direct competition with each other. Each had an impressive set-up with the biggest speakers I had ever seen. One was playing traditional Hawaiian music. What is it about Hawaiian music that instantly puts you at ease? The second DJ we came across was blasting rap music. Tupac Shakur I believe. Now I must confess that I’m a fan of rap music. It’s especially great when you’re working out. The final DJ we walked past was playing Country and Western. Country and Western in Maui? I was as surprised as you are.

  “After the parade I thought we could head over to Lauren’s party,” Foxx said. “Well it’s not exactly her party,” he corrected himself. “It’s an art show opening that she’s a part of.”

  Foxx’s girlfriend, Lauren Rogers, was apparently somewhat of a celebrity in the art community. I say apparently because what I know about the art world would fit into a thimble. Lauren specializes in marine art, painting cute little dolphins, whales, star fish, etc. She makes a ton of dough doing it, too, originals going for upwards of several hundred thousand dollars. If you want a mere copy, be prepared to shell out several thousand bucks. The good news is that the frame’s included.

  Foxx told me that things were really heating up between them. Marriage had been discussed, which had been a major shock to me considering that Foxx had the word “bachelor” tattooed on his backside. Foxx was even considering popping the question to Lauren while I was on the island.

  So, how did a not-so-famous ex-jock like Foxx happen to end up dating a famous, wealthy artist? Well, in my humble opinion, there are two types of men on this planet: those who are lucky with women and those who are not. Foxx fits into the first category. I’m in the second.

  Why is Foxx so successful? I wish I knew so I could emulate it. I think it’s because he doesn’t care. I, on the other hand, try way too hard. I’m way too sensitive, and I have a history of letting women walk all over me. With each failed relationship I swear to family and friends that I’m going to stop chasing bad women. But there’s something about me that attracts them. Dorothy being a case in point. Trust me. It’s not easy admitting this to you. But isn’t that the first step towards recovery? Admitting that you have a problem?

  Foxx and I found an empty space and plopped down on the curb to watch the kids in their costumes. There was the little girl dressed like a turtle. She was crying desperately; maybe it was because the costume was too hot. But her mother, who was walking beside her, didn’t seem to notice. Now I’m not saying she’s a bad mother. She probably spent about forty hours making that turtle costume, and she was determined to have the little girl wear it.

  There were the traditional Draculas, ghosts, witches, and pirates. Probably the most popular costume was Harry Potter. It was amazing how much fun I was having just watching these kids have fun. I glanced over at Foxx, and he too seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. Maybe we’re both going soft in our old age. It was great seeing Foxx after all these years, and I actually started to feel a bit choked up about it. I know. That sounds really wimpy. But again, I want to be honest with you and express how I truly felt. I looked over at Foxx, and I was pretty sure I could see he was choked up to. Then he smiled and smacked me in the back of my head, and everything was normal again.

  Then I saw her - not a kid, mind you, but a full-grown woman. She looked to be around thirty years old. She was of average height, with a slender body and shining, shoulder-length black hair. If I had to guess I would say that she was a mix of Hawaiian and Japanese. She was dressed like the Little Mermaid from the Walt Disney film. She was wearing a tight green skirt that hugged her hips in a most pleasing fashion. Her stomach didn’t have an ounce of fat on it; two sea shells covered her breasts. A tiny strand of flowers circled her head. I was instantly captivated. There’s nothing like a beautiful woman to make you forget all about the unpleasantness of a nasty breakup. Dorothy who?

  “Check out the mermaid,” I said.

  I went to point her out to Foxx, but he was already staring her down.

  “I never get tired of looking at her.”

  “You know her?” I asked.

  “Yeah, and you’d never guess what she does for a living.”

  Foxx didn’t elaborate, and before I could ask his attention was drawn to another woman.

  “There’s Lauren.”

  “Which one?” I asked.

  Foxx pointed to a tiny woman in a witch’s costume. Later on I would find out just how appropriate that costume was. Foxx stood as Lauren approached us. He bent over and kissed her on the cheek.

  Foxx and Lauren made for an odd pair. She couldn’t have been more than five feet tall and a hundred pounds. Foxx easily dwarfed her. He had described her to me as stunning, and if there’s one thing I know for certain in life, you should never comment on the physical appearance of a friend’s girlfriend, even if he asks you - especially if he asks you. If you say she’s hot, there’s immediately a bizarre tension between the two of you. Of course, I don’t have to tell you what would happen if you casually mention to your pal that his girl’s a dog.

  So what did Lauren look like, other than her tiny frame? From a distance, she looked pretty good. A stunning figure, short blond hair, and a great walk. It wasn’t a super sexy walk. But she had attitude and style. But when you got a closer look at her, you realized her facial features were a bit off. Her nose was bent at the tip. At first I thought it might be a tiny piece of putty to enhance the witch costume. But the more I looked at her I realized it was her real nose. She had captivating blue eyes, but they were a touch too close together. When she smiled at Foxx, I realized that Lauren could have posed for one of those teeth-whitening commercials. But as straight and perfect as they were, they were set in a mouth that was way too large. Not in a desirable, sexy, Julia-Roberts-kind-of-way, but rather a “wow, that-chick’s got-a-really-big-mouth” way. Sorry for being so critical about my best friend’s woman, but again I’d like to point out that I kept these thoughts entirely to myself. Of course, now you know them as well.

  Lauren sort of looked me up and down. At first my ego allowed me to think that she was undressing me with her eyes, but realistically she was checking me out much like you would a tomato in the produce section of your local grocery store. Did I have any obvious rotten spots?

  Then she looked me in the eye, and I started to wonder if we had engaged in a staring contest. Foxx was also looking at me. I guess he was trying to figure out what I thought of her. I decided to break the silence.

  “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Lauren. Foxx has told me all about you.”

  “Yes.”

  That’s all she said. And did. No hand shake. Nothing. Just a casual “yes.”

  Several more seconds of uncomfortable silence.

  “I like your costume,” I said, smiling like an idiot, trying to break the bizarre and unexplainable tension between us.

  “Thank you. So, are you coming to the show tonight?” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Artist on Location

  I had never been to an art show and didn’t know what to expect. Like I said before, I wasn’t exactly the most informed person when it came to art. As soon as Foxx, Lauren, and I walked through the doors of the art gallery I was immediately impressed. This wasn’t some stuffy party where people stand around drinking expensive champagne and try to one-up each other on how cultured they are. The atmosphere was very laid back, lik
e Maui itself.

  The gallery was quite large and brightly lit. There were several artists who were showing their work, and each artist was given a section of the room. Some of the artists were painters, some sculptors, and some photographers.

  Lauren was immediately surrounded by fans. Foxx, who seemed to have expected this, gently led me away from her groupies.

  “This is actually a very unique show,” he said. “Usually just one artist will have an opening. Tonight there’s something like five or six artists.”

  “What’s the special occasion?” I asked.

  “Two documentary producers from the east coast came out here to do a show on the Maui art community.”

  Foxx pointed to a corner of the room where several guests were standing around a large, flat screen television with a small DVD player sitting on top.

  “That’s the program playing over there.”

  “I assume Lauren’s part of the show.”

  “Yeah, and she almost wasn’t. When one of the producers called her she just assumed she was going to be the star of the documentary. When she found out that all the artists selected were going to get equal time she backed out.”

  “What made her decide to do the show after all?”

  “I convinced her it was better to be in the show a little than not at all. Plus I told her that she shouldn’t disappoint her fans.”

  “Have you seen the documentary yet?” I asked.

  “This morning. It’s the pilot episode for a series called Artist on Location.”

  “Any good?”

  “It’s all right. If anything, it reminded me of how many strange cats there are on this island.”

  We strolled around the gallery as we talked, and we came upon a collection of black and white photographs of Hawaiian hula dancers. The photos had been taken in gorgeous and remote locations on Maui. I consider myself an amateur photographer, so I have some idea of how difficult it is to get truly great shots. It was obvious these were taken by a master photographer. They were breathtaking.

  “Impressive,” I said.

  “Yeah, Bernard sells them for a few hundred bucks a pop. They’re a lot more affordable than most of the art here. You can also find them on post cards at the souvenir shops.”

  We continued to browse, and we next came upon a group of small, clay sculptures. I immediately broke out into a smile. The figures were of strange, mythical-looking creatures with disproportionate heads and feet. Each sculpture had a small card attached to it that gave the name and biographical information of the creature. I leaned over and read about “Sammy the Surfer, who only surfed on the back of humpback whales.” I was tempted to buy one of the strange creatures right then and there, but I didn’t want to have to carry it around all night, so I decided to purchase one at a later date. You can never have too many Sammy the Surfers around your house.

  A large painting of undersea life caught my eye. It was beautiful and full of incredible detail. I knew I had seen it before. It must be Lauren’s.

  “Lauren does beautiful work,” I told Foxx.

  Foxx looked uneasy.

  “Actually, that’s not hers.”

  Foxx walked away, heading towards Lauren.

  Strange. Then I remembered where I had seen the painting. Recently I had received an email from Foxx asking me for the hundredth time to visit him in Maui. He had attached a picture of Lauren in her art studio. I remember the picture very well because I was captivated by the painting she was putting the finishing touches on in the photograph. If you had asked me now if I was standing in front of the exact same painting, I would have bet my life on it. Oh well, I would ask Foxx about it later.

  I made my way over to the large-screen television and watched the documentary for a couple of minutes. The director had done an excellent job. There were beautiful images of waterfalls, palm trees, and Maui sunsets blended together with the art work.

  “Are you enjoying the video?”

  I turned to see an attractive woman looking at me.

  “It’s very interesting,” I answered.

  “I’m Nakia. I’m one of the producers of the documentary.”

  She stuck out a slender hand, and I took it in mine.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Poe.”

  “Great name!” She exclaimed with such exuberance that I felt a rush of confidence flow through me.

  “Thanks.”

  “So, are you a friend of one of the artists?”

  “Actually a friend of a friend. My best friend Foxx dates Lauren.”

  I immediately detected a slight drop in her good mood. It was very slight, but definitely there.

  “I bet your job is quite fascinating,” I remarked, “traveling all over the world and interviewing famous people.”

  “It’s certainly a lot more interesting than sitting in a cubicle. Most shows aren’t quite as exciting as this though. The people we’ve met on Maui have really embraced us.”

  “Did you get some good interviews?”

  “This show was actually the first time we had too many good sound bites.”

  Nakia looked suspiciously around the room. I guess to see if we were being watched.

  “We also got a lot of comments we didn’t dare use.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She leaned forward and whispered, “A lot of the artists can’t stand each other. Who would have guessed Maui is such a competitive place?”

  Nakia smiled once more and trotted away.

  I started to head towards the next exhibit when the mermaid from the Halloween parade entered the gallery. I hadn’t been hallucinating before; she was just as stunning now. She waved hello to a couple of people, looked around the gallery for a few seconds, and then walked with purpose towards one of the corners.

  What did I have to lose? As I approached the exhibit it became apparent that she was a fan of this particular artist. Her eyes were glued to a massive painting in the center of the collection. It was a depiction of another world, kind of a classy rendition of something you’d see on the cover of a science fiction novel.

  I decided to pretend to admire one of the paintings beside the one she was looking at. Actually, I didn’t need to pretend. The painting was breathtaking. It was an alien sea with two sunrises. There was something about the waves crashing on the shore. Somehow the artist had made them sparkle, almost like diamonds.

  The mermaid moved around me and went to the next painting. What the hell was I doing? I get all tongue-tied around new people, especially gorgeous women. Was I just going to follow her from painting to painting and not say anything?

  I decided to talk to Foxx. He apparently knew her. At least I could find out whether or not she had a boyfriend.

  “You asshole!”

  I turned (no, not because I answer to the name asshole) because I recognized the voice as Lauren’s. Sure enough, she and Foxx were arguing, rather loudly, in fact. People were staring at them, but that didn’t seem to matter to Foxx or Lauren. Lauren poked Foxx in the chest with her finger and stormed off. Foxx looked around, obviously now embarrassed and turning completely red. He hurried away, too, but in the opposite direction.

  I decided not to chase after Foxx. I knew him too well. When he’s angry there’s no sense in talking to him. All he really needs is a few minutes to cool down.

  I turned around to check out the rest of the art show, but I was still distracted by Foxx’s argument, and I bumped right into the mermaid. Let me clarify: I didn’t just bump into her. I stepped on her bare toes.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

  She started to hobble, then lifted the injured foot slightly and started to massage the wounded toes.

  “It’s okay,” she grimaced.

  Then she limped away.

  Completely mortified, I headed for the bar. After drinking a couple of Manhattans and staying away from everyone in fear of maiming any more guests, I decided to locate Foxx and find out what the big fight was all about.
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  I searched for him for almost half an hour, but Foxx was no where to be found. Luckily I remembered his address from all the letters we had exchanged.

  I went outside to fetch a cab when I remembered this was Maui, not New York; I would have to go back inside and call a cab company. It had been an exhausting day, and my brain was definitely not firing on all cylinders.

  I was heading back inside when I heard a blood-curdling scream from the back of the art gallery. I took off running, silently wishing I had a weapon of some sort to stop what sounded like a mugging in progress. I turned the back corner quickly, almost losing my balance.

  A woman in her late teens wearing a waitress’s uniform was standing beside a person lying on the pavement. The waitress looked to be in a state of shock. She was shaking uncontrollably, and tears were rushing down her face.

  I ran to the fallen person and received the shock of my life. It was Lauren, her Halloween costume soaked with blood from multiple stab wounds to her chest and arms. I felt for a pulse, although it was quite obvious I wouldn’t find one.

  The back door burst open, and my mermaid rushed outside. She took one look at Lauren and turned to the crowd of people who were gathering behind her.

  “Call 911. We need an ambulance,” she said.

  My fingers on Lauren’s neck, I looked up at my mermaid. “There’s no rush anymore. She’s gone.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Blood on His Hands

  The ambulance got there in record time, but all they could really do at this point was cover her body with a white sheet. The police were there as well. They spent a great deal of time talking to the mermaid. They all seemed to know each other, which I assumed was because Maui is such a small place.