Hot Lava (11 page)

“Fuck,” Brandon swore. “If that’s the case, then our job just got a whole lot more difficult. How do we investigate a police connection?”

Briana again gave her sage opinion. “For now, let’s table that one. It’s conjecture at this point anyway, and probably way out of our league. I say we go to the prison and try to get in to see both Makani and his boss. If there’s a missing piece to the puzzle, maybe they can provide it.”

“Count me out,” said Koni. “Me and prisons don’t mix. Plus, you have more problems to contend with than their agreeing to talk to you.”

“Such as?” I asked.

“Such as, only family members and legal counsel allowed. Plus, we don’t know the name of Makani’s boss. Even I don’t know that.”

“No,” I corrected him, “we
didn’t
know the name when we started all this. Maybe it’s made the papers since then. And, I bet, the names of their attorneys have probably been reported by now, too. If we can’t get in to see the culprits, then maybe their representation is the next best thing.”

It was Koni who shook his cute little head this time around. “But why in the world would an attorney tell us anything? What about client confidentiality and all that garbage? Isn’t what you’re proposing illegal and immoral?”

We three nodded and smiled. “Of course, kid,” I said. “But those are our specialties.”

“Especially the immoral thing,” Brandon added.

“Especially,” Briana seconded.

“Ah,” Koni ahed. “One of you is going to seduce the answers out of them.”

“Piece of cake,” Brandon said, with a snap of his fingers.

“Oh,” Briana said. “That reminds me, I’m starving. How about some room service and Internet access? Two birds, one stone.”

She led the way with the rest of us in the rear. “Wow,” Koni whispered in my ear, “she really is like a superhero.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” I whispered back. “Or supervillain. Just depends on her mood. Meaning, don’t piss her off. And if you do, warn us so we can duck and cover.” He laughed. “No,” I said, “I’m being serious.”

“Oh,” he ohed.

“Yeah, oh.” I involuntarily shivered just thinking about it.

And then, minutes later, we were in my, now
her
, room. “Nice,” she proclaimed, a broad smile on her stunning face as she quickly found the room service menu and ordered -- all on our tab, naturally. Then she got down to business, the wireless keyboard on her lap and the television Internet access turned on.

Her pink-polished nails ran rapidly across the device, and then, in the blink of an eye, we had our answer. “Voila,” she said, pointing to the television screen. “Makani’s boss is none other than... drum roll, please... Edward Beles. Wait, that name sounds familiar.”

“Oh, fuck,” the three of us guys said at once.

“Oh, right,” she said, her index finger touching her nose. “Well then, another piece of the puzzle seemingly falls into place. There’s the police connection, then. Sergeant Beles at the substation and Edward Beles in prison. What are the odds that they’re not related?”

“Slim to none, I’d wager,” I answered, though we were quick to discover that this little tidbit of information had never appeared in the press until now. “Guess the police would rather the islanders didn’t know about this; it wouldn’t look too kosher,” I added, clearly stating the obvious.

“Look,” Koni hollered as Briana continued scrolling through the articles, one after the next. He jumped up and pointed to the TV. “It says here in one article and here in another one that both Makani and his boss, at one time or another, were represented by the same attorney, but for different cases.” He read farther down, just to make sure. “Drum roll again... David Schwartz, attorney at law. Guess that’s who we’re seducing. He’s still representing Beles.”

“Not we,” piped in Brandon. “Me.”

“Or me,” Briana corrected, chin held up high.

“Hey, maybe me. Don’t forget me,” I pointed out.

The three of them laughed and ignored my appeal. “Anyway,” said Briana, still reading through her rapid research, “he’s straight. Twice divorced. Now single. Both wives left him.”

“Meaning he’s probably a schmuck,” I reasoned.

“And probably easily taken in by a pretty face,” Brandon added.

“But,” Koni interjected, “don’t you think we should hedge our bets, just in case?”

We all turned to look at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

He pointed to Briana, then to me, then to Brandon, then to himself. “I mean,” he replied, “maybe Briana should be joined by Judy and Liza and Madonna.”

“Who’s Madonna?” Briana asked.

“Me,” Koni informed, proudly. “’Cause I don’t look like a Cher.”

“Kid has a point,” Brandon said. “Minus the Madonna option. I mean, give this lawyer three beauties to choose from. Increase our chances. Makes sense.”

“As much as anything does, all things considered,” Briana agreed, running to the door as her luggage and dinner simultaneously arrived. When we were once again alone, she unzipped the largest suitcase and flung it open. “Blonde, brunette, and redhead,” she offered, three stunning wigs now dangling from her outstretched hand. “See how well I know you two?”

We hopped on the floor with her, Brandon grabbing for the blonde one and me for the brunette. Briana was clearly the fiery one in our trio, no doubt about that. “But how do we find this lawyer dude?” I asked.

A cough came from the bed. We three looked up, our wigs already snugly covering our scalps. “Um,” said the young voice, “I think I have that one covered. But we’ll have to wait until the morning, when this guy Schwartz’s office opens up.”

We shrugged, glad not to have to think of yet another plan by ourselves. Besides, Koni’s ideas had all panned out thus far. Then we wheeled Briana’s dinner on to the patio, all al fresco like. She devoured her meal as we sipped from the bottle of wine she’d ordered. Koni, of course, settled for a glass of mango juice. (It’s a wonder we’d never won the Big Brother of the year award. Then again, considering we still had our wigs on, maybe not.)

“To successfully seducing a lawyer,” Brandon toasted.

“And to getting Will back,” I added.

“And to the massage I’m getting tomorrow,” Briana additionally added. “You guys are already a big fucking pain in my neck.”

“But you love us anyway,” I reminded her.

“Less and less, boys. Less and less.”

***

We rose the next morning, our, believe it or not, seventh day on the island. (Time sure does fly when murder and mayhem appear from all sides.)

I heard a voice coming from the balcony, the sliding door, now closed, muffling the sound. Koni was sitting in a chair, his legs up and feet on the railing while he talked on his cell phone. I looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was just after nine.

“What’s the kid up to now?” Brandon whined, a pillow over his face.

“Beats me,” I replied, and Brandon leaned over and punched me in the arm. “No,” I shouted, “beats me, not
beat
me.”

“Oh,” he ohed, removing the pillow. “But the latter is so much more enjoyable.”

“It’s too early for your nonsense,” grumbled Briana from the adjoining room, the dividing door stupidly left wide open.

And then, “Oh, good, you’re all up,” announced Koni, reentering the suite. “Because I’ve got some good news.”

“Mimosas are on the way?” Brandon asked.

“Well, yes, but only because you preordered them last night,” he replied.

“Oh, yeah,” Brandon yipped, rolling over on his side. “Goody for me.”

Koni sighed. “Anyway, the good news is that Mister Schwartz is meeting us at the bar at Duke’s tonight. Seven sharp.”

Brandon again rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows. “And how the friggin’ fuck did you manage that?” he asked.

Koni grinned, his white teeth flashing amid all that glorious tan. “Easy,” he told us. “When the mayor’s office calls, you do as you’re told.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Wait a minute,” I said, “you pretended to be from the mayor’s office and told him to be at Duke’s tonight?”

“No, Cute Dude, I pretended to be the mayor himself and told him to be at Duke’s tonight. Again, easy. Only, instead of the mayor, he’s going to find you three, um,
girls
. A consolation prize, I think they call it.”

We stared at him in shock. Briana too, from inside the door. “I need a drink,” she said.

“Me, too,” Brandon and I echoed.

Our prayers were answered a split second later, the mimosas, strong coffee, and pastries rolling in as if on cue. We took it all onto the balcony, staring at the sun as it made its way skyward, billowing white clouds coming in from far out at sea, the beach fairly empty, waiting patiently for the tourist onslaught.

“So, what do we do until tonight?” I asked.

“Divide and conquer,” Briana suggested.

“The United States already owns Hawaii,” I reminded her.

She punched me from my left, Brandon from my right. “No, dumbass,” she said, “I meant our limo-driving friend, Liko. Somehow we need to figure out his connection to all this. Since you and Brandon already have an in with him, I say you should give that number a call and set something up.”

“And what will you be doing?” I asked her.

She paused, clearly finalizing her plan. “Me and Koni here are gonna find out as much as we can about Liko from behind the scenes.”

“We are?” Koni asked, taken aback.

“Yep,” she replied, “as safely as possible. Then we’re getting facials and hot stone massages.”

“Oh,” he ohed, now all smiles. “I mean, we
are
.”

“Good,” she said, wolfing down a tasty-looking guava Danish. “Then we’ll meet up somewhere for an early dinner and then head on out to Duke’s.”

“Um,” I tried, “your day sounds just a tad more fun than ours.”

“Finally,” she told me, “an intelligent comment. Now finish your breakfast so we can doll you up and make you look as pretty... as possible.”

I looked over at Koni and said, “See, kid, I told you to be scared of her.”

“Ah,” she ahed, her hands raised in triumph. “A
second
intelligent comment. Will wonders never fucking cease?”

***

First thing we did, obviously, was call the number that Liko had given us. He picked up immediately and remembered us right away. (As if we were easy to forget.) He said that if we wanted to talk some business, he’d be free in an hour and to meet him at the corner table in the International Marketplace food court.

“Think you can find that?” he asked.

I looked at Koni, remembering it all too well. “We’ll see you in an hour,” I told him.

So, with breakfast reluctantly over and our plan seemingly put into play, we began our, well,
trans
formation. We opted for the sarongs again, figuring they did us well the first time around. Instead of the nifty scarves on our heads, however, we wore our nice, new wigs, opting for the scarves around our necks instead, to hide our telltale Adam’s apples. Faces, arms, and chests were neatly shaved. (Naturally, Brandon had little to do in that department, since he practically majored in manscaping.) Lastly, Briana applied the war paint to our faces, the fake eyelashes the finishing touch, and, voila, instant Judy and Liza.

Then we hugged each other goodbye. “Good luck,” we told them.

“Keep ‘em tucked,” Briana replied.

And we were off.

“So,” I said as we made our way across and down the street, “what’s the plan?”

He shrugged. “Not a clue. Guess we wing it. Pump him for as much information as we can get and then beat a hasty retreat. Least we’re meeting him in a relatively safe place.”

I nodded and led us into the Marketplace. Liko was sitting off to the corner when we arrived, slurping on a dripping ice cream cone -- the cutest pimp I’d ever seen.

“Ladies,” he said, proffering us two metallic chairs.

We sat across from him, nervous smiles plastered across our make-up-caked faces. “Thanks for meeting us.”

“Thanks for calling,” he replied. “Now, what can I do for you?”

Obviously, he was forcing us to make the first move. “We, um, we’re in need of a, um, new agent,” I said, lobbing the first volley.

“An agent, huh?” He grinned, his teeth perfect and white. They looked, if I wasn’t mistaken, capped. “You’re in luck, then. I’m in the market for some fresh talent.”

“Lucky us,” Brandon/Liza said. “Business must be good.”

The grin widened further. “Business is booming. Seems the competition has suddenly gone belly up.” His choice of words dropped a pit the size of a grapefruit in my stomach. “And it’s hard to find Caucasian help around these parts. You two would do well with me. Promise.”

We nodded, our smiles now cemented to our faces. “Sounds like a good deal,” Brandon said. “Do you mind if we ask a few questions before we sign on the dotted line, though?”

“Shoot,” he said. (Also not the most appealing phrase.)

“Well, not to be condescending, but you picked us up in a hotel limo. If business is so good, why the need to moonlight?”

He put his mitt of a hand over Brandon’s. “Think about it,” he replied.

Suddenly, it hit me. “Good cover,” I blurted out. “And you get to meet lots of potential, rich, lonely men.”

“Smart girl,” he said. “You’ll go far.”

“
She
already has,” Brandon quipped, earning him a kick beneath the table. “But we have one misgiving,” he quickly added.

“Which is?” Liko asked.

“We’ve never had an, um,
agent
before. How does it all work?”

“Simple,” he said. “I find you work, you do the work, I take a thirty percent cut. You work your own hours, as often as you like, minimum twenty hours a week. Most of my
talent
takes home enough that twenty is all they need. In addition, I protect my girls from, say, less than polite clients. Fortunately, most of the work is with Japanese men, who, looking at the two of you, I think could easily be handled. How does that all sound?”

In truth, it sounded like a great job, remembering I had none to go back to. “I’m ready,” I proclaimed, exuberantly, now earning my own kick beneath the table. (Oops, I forgot that we weren’t really looking for work, least of all the illicit kind.)