TroubleinParadise (6 page)

“Hey, brah.” Sione waved to Mika, releasing Clarissa
immediately. “Just keeping an eye on your girl.”

“
Mahalo
, cuz. I’ll take it from here.” Mikaela nudged
out Sione without a hint of the usual playfulness.

“Yeah. You two talk it out, ’kay?” Sione made his retreat.

Mika stepped in to dance with his wife. His familiar moves,
the comfortable way their bodies fit together, the scent of his skin felt
right, as though she’d come home from a perilous journey. Desperate to say
something—
anything
—she opened her mouth, but no words came out. She
should explain, though an explanation would only make her look guilty. She
was
guilty, wasn’t she? Of exactly what, she wasn’t sure. An emotional betrayal
perhaps. She’d sought comfort with another man. It was almost as bad as bedding
him. Or was it? Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe this was all nothing and she was being
melodramatic.

It didn’t feel like nothing. It felt huge. A
two-thousand-pound gorilla parked in the corner of the room, staring at her and
scraping its pointer fingers together, scolding her.

Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the cacophony of
thoughts and fears.

“What’s he doing here?” Mika asked, jerking his head in the
direction of his cousin.

Clearing her throat, she managed a reply. “He was here when
I came in. Trying to forget a bad night, he said.”

Could be her imagination, the guilt of being found in an
intimate moment with Sione, but Clarissa thought she saw a look of annoyance
travel across Mika’s chiseled features, a flash of granite in his eyes. Oh God,
he knew. He knew. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead.

He broke the uncomfortable silence. “Come on. Let’s go.”

It occurred to her she’d come here because she’d been angry
with Mika, but now she found she couldn’t muster the indignation to refuse,
considering the circumstances. As she followed him out of the bar though, she
noted he hadn’t bothered to apologize for upsetting her either.

Clarissa glanced at her cell phone. Ten o’clock at night.
She’d practically lived in her studio since Saturday, perhaps still too
chagrined by the scene at the bar to face Mika. She should head home soon, but
the scaled-down maquette model for her competition submission still needed a
few tweaks here and there. A few more licks with a buffing wheel and it would
be ready to patina. Just when she had eye protection in place, ready to fire up
the Dremel multipurpose tool, a knock interrupted her work. She turned to see Sione
in the doorway.

“Hey, you,” she said.

“Hey. Howzit?”

“Good. Thanks. Just trying to finish this up for tomorrow.”

He stood for a while, staring up at the little models and
technical exercises that lined a shelf around the top of the room. Unsure of
what to do or say, Clarissa needlessly took a file to the base of her miniature
banyan tree.

Finally, he spoke. “Sorry if I was out of line the other
night. I felt like Mika wasn’t thrilled, you know?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, knowing damn well what he meant.

“He didn’t say anything at b-ball this week, but he ran over
me a couple times. Rougher than usual.” Sione rubbed his jaw. “I felt kinda…
You know?”

She did know, but damned if she’d admit it. Bad enough that
they’d taken things this far. Her schoolgirl crush would only lead to further
trouble, further pain in her marriage. Whatever the trouble between her and
Mika, Sione wasn’t the answer. Still, why did the man have to look so damn good
in t-shirt and cutoffs?

Clearing her throat, she replied, “Mika hasn’t said anything
to me. Whatever you imagined the other night, don’t worry about it. It’s all
good.”

He stayed in the doorway, eyes fixed on the shelf above.

After a few minutes, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

Sione shook his head but didn’t move or speak. She took off
her goggles and wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. Standing up, she
waited in front of him, forcing him to look at her.

“What’s on your mind, Sione?”

A hand ran through his mop of hair. “You, Kala. You’re on my
mind.”

The words didn’t make sense to her at first. She looked up
at him, wondering what in the world he was talking about. He cradled her face
in his hands. The gesture felt strange for one she’d imagined over and over
again. Too intimate, inappropriate. And was he saying what she thought he was
saying?

Clarissa turned her head away, bracing her hands against his
chest. “Don’t.”

“But I gotta say this.”

“No. No, you don’t. Please don’t.” She pushed past him and
stalked into the courtyard. A deep breath of night air did little to calm her.
Talk about blindsiding a woman. This was the last conversation she’d expected
to have with him. What absurd, cruel twist was this?

Sione came up behind her. “Kala, I need to tell you this.”

“Keep it to yourself.”

“I have feelings for you. I have since Mika first brought
you to the family picnic.”

“That was almost seven years ago. Stop being silly.”

“You were wearing a yellow dress with little white flowers
on it. Your hair was shorter then.”

“Really? Because I can’t even remember what I wore.”

“I do.”

“Just hush. If you cared about me you wouldn’t be saying
this right now. Or ever.”

“I don’t expect you to do anything about it. Not like this,
but if you were free… If I was free then too. You know… Maybe…”

“That’s a lot of ifs. And I don’t give a crap about what you
do or don’t expect. How could you do this to me? Put me in this position?”

Casting his gaze upward, his throat strained against the
same heavy emotions she felt. “I’m sorry, Kala. Go ahead, hit me. Kick me in
the shins. I deserve it.”

Her hands shook with anger, mouth gathered into a tight
grimace. “I don’t want to hit you, you dumbass.” She turned to face him. “I
want to kiss you. Every fiber of my being is begging me to kiss you.”

His stance softened, no longer apologetic, as if he’d won some
victory. The fire in his eyes mellowed but didn’t die out. It turned in on
itself, glowing embers replacing dancing flames. He inched closer to her,
dipping his head. Ribbons of curls fell across his eyes. His breath grazed her
shoulder, mouths too close for comfort. His skin smelled of surf and suntan
oil. Heat licked at her thighs, her pussy throbbing. Her stomach churned with
indecision—what she wanted to do versus what she knew she must do.

Another drop of sweat slid down her cheek, Sione raised a hand
to wipe it away but she took a step back.

His wounded expression said more than his words ever could.
He alternated between looking at her and looking at the ground. “Just give me a
chance to explain what I mean.”

“No.”

“Why? You think I don’t see how you look at me? You think I
didn’t understand why you danced so close to me the other night? You feel it
too. I know you do.” Again, Sione reached for her, and again, she stepped back.

Hands still trembling, she waved him away. “No. This doesn’t
happen, tonight or any other night. We don’t talk about this again and we don’t
tell Mika. Is that clear?”

“But—”

“I’m married to Mika. I’m in love with Mika. I’m sorry if I
gave you the wrong impression. It’s my fault too that we’ve come to this point,
but let’s just walk away from it before we do something that’s not so easy to
walk away from. Okay?”

Sione nodded.

Still flush with anger, hopelessness and sadness, Clarissa
walked out of the courtyard, out of the building and to the parking garage.
Only once she’d made it home did she realize she’d left her studio wide open.

The phone call physically pained her, but she forced herself
to dial. Too much expensive equipment there.

Sione picked up on the third ring.

“I need a favor,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Kala, I’m so sorry.”

“Hush. I didn’t call you to talk about that. Are you still
at the Art Building?”

“Yeah.”

“Could you lock up my studio, please?”

“Already did.”

“Thanks. Good night.”

“Good night, Kala.”

She ended the call, then collapsed on the couch. Her mind
raced along, trying to sort out thoughts and emotions that could not be sorted.
This whole thing with Sione was a knotted mess, each string leading to an
imperfect and potentially disastrous outcome. Exploring either of their amorous
impulses was out of the question. Being honest with Mika seemed insane. The
only option left was to ignore what could not be ignored—not in Sione’s
presence, not in her most private thoughts, not when she was honest with
herself. But she had to. She had to. This was no way to live, walking on the
edge of a razor blade. One false move and she’d be cut to ribbons.

Curling into a ball, she sobbed until she fell into a fitful
slumber.

At twelve thirty, Mika crawled in.

“Tough night, sweetheart?” she asked, yawning and stretching.

Faced with her husband’s gentle smile, she wondered how
there could be any doubt at all. She loved him. Plain and simple.

“Yeah, we were packed.” He sank down beside her and kissed
her cheek. “You been crying, baby?”

“Nah. My eyes are just tired from some fine detail work.”

“Then let’s fall into bed together.”

“That’s the best offer I’ve heard all day.”

Mika took her hand and followed her to bed. Though the
conversation with Sione played inside her mind in an endless loop, Clarissa
managed to fall asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Clarissa swirled her disposable cup, hoping to free a few
more droplets of orange soda from the ice cubes.

Slurp
.
No such luck.

Michelle picked at the last of her sushi, gaze fixed on the
large wall of glass.

The two had decided to take a couple hours for lunch and
window shopping at Ala Moana Center—a break from a typical Wednesday smack in
the middle of a week that seemed to drag on without end. Tourists usually
proved a source of endless entertainment—but today an unusual silence rested
between Clarissa and her friend.

They stared across the food court out the picture window
that gave a view of the beach park, neither one paying much attention to the
parade of scantily clad arms, legs, bellies and backsides. Clarissa and
Michelle took for granted the white sand, graceful arches of palm trees and
blue-green water that shifted from turquoise to deep indigo as it met the
cloudless sky on the horizon.

“Okay, we’re too damn quiet,” Michelle said.

Clarissa set aside her drink. “Can I ask you something?”

“You know you can.”

“It’s kinda uncomfortable to talk about and if you don’t
want to talk about it just tell me so.”

“This sounds serious.”

“It’s not. Well, maybe it is. It’s just…” Clarissa groped
for words. How could she explain the events of the past few days? Only one word
came to mind. “Sione.”

Michelle’s brows drew together. “What about him?”

What did she want to ask? Well, she knew what she wanted to
ask. What do his lips taste like? How warm are his hands against bare skin?
What sound does he make when he sinks himself inside…
No, stop it.

Finally, she said, “Why did you two break up? You never told
me why and I know you don’t like to talk about him. Just tell me to mind my own
beeswax if you don’t want to answer.”

Her friend giggled. “Did you just say ‘beeswax’?”

“Ha. Yeah, I did.”

“You’re such a white girl,” Michelle teased. Chewing on her
lip, she seemed to go over some sort of internal dialogue. “How to put this?
Sione and I are like… We’re like gasoline and fire. The good things about each
other we heighten, but same goes for the bad things. My temper gets hotter, his
rebellious streak gets wider. At least that’s the way it felt. Why do you ask?”

Clarissa drew in a deep breath, scenes from Sione’s
confession flashing through her mind. Her throat constricted as if to contain
the words. She didn’t want to tell anyone that things had gone as far as they
had. When she was honest with herself, she knew the way she’d skirted the edge
of cheating on Mika was a betrayal. And with his own cousin for crissakes. What
would her friend think if she knew the truth?

“Earth to Kala.” Michelle snapped her fingers.

“Sorry.” Clarissa shook her head to clear it, but instead
tears rushed to her eyes. “I have to talk to someone, but I think you’re going
to think badly of me.”

“Hey, you know it’s not like that with us. Spill it, girl.”

A shaky breath failed to loosen the tension binding her rib
cage. “I’ve been having these thoughts about Sione.”

Michelle shrugged. “We always talk about him like that. It’s
okay.”

“Yeah, but for a while now, every time I’m around him, I
feel like he sucks all the oxygen from the room.”

“Well, he’s pretty good at that. It’s part of his charm.”

“And with all the fights Mika and I have been having…I
almost kissed him the other night.”

“Who?”

Clarissa balled her hands into fists and pressed them to her
lips, her voice a mere squeak. “Sione.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“I mean, not almost kissed him. We could’ve kissed, the
opportunity was there and I barely stopped myself. But I wanted to. God, I
wanted to.”

“That’s not so bad. You can’t control how you feel all the
time, but at least you didn’t act on those feelings.”

“True.” Clarissa wrapped and unwrapped a strand of hair
around one finger. “But all the things he was saying… It was hard to control
myself and I can’t stop thinking about it now.”

“What did he say?”

“Some nonsense that he’s always had feelings for me and how
hard it is that I’m his cousin’s wife. And if we were both free… I don’t know,
it’s crazy.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him I didn’t appreciate being put in this position
and that he should never talk to me like that again.”

“Good for you.”

Stacking the paper plates and empty cups on a tray, Michelle
stayed quiet. The women bussed their table and headed for the parking lot.
Michelle’s Toyota hybrid waited in its shaded spot.

As they climbed into the car, Clarissa asked, “Do you think
badly of me?”

“No. It was just a moment of weakness. You’re beating
yourself up too much. You did the right thing.”

“I guess. I just wish I could stop thinking about him. It’s
like he opened the door and now I can’t slam it shut again.”

Michelle whipped the little car out of the parking space and
headed for Ala Moana Boulevard. “I tell you this much, Sione isn’t worth the
stress. He’s an irresponsible jerk who thinks he can say and do anything he
wants without consequences. And believe me, your negative reaction is enough to
scare him off. Anything too real or too complicated would be too much like work
for him. Trust me on that. Don’t waste another minute thinking about him.”

“Did I touch a nerve here?” Clarissa asked. “I didn’t mean
to.”

“No, why do you say that?” The engine revved.

“No reason.”

Gripping the passenger door handle, Clarissa cringed as
Michelle cut around a slow driver in the fast lane. Yeah…no reason at all.

The front door slammed with more vigor than usual,
especially for a Saturday night. And a couple hours early too.

“Baby, you home?” Mika called out.

“In the kitchen.” Clarissa put away the small casting she
was sanding.

Still dressed in his chef coat and checked pants, he planted
a kiss on her cheek. He smelled of grilled salmon.

“Ew, you didn’t shower.”

“Sorry, baby, but I have such great news I didn’t want to
wait.”

“What’s up?”

“I got it. You’re looking at the new sous chef.”