| The exchange was set for six
o'clock, under the arbor that ran between the zoo and the old aquatic stadium
where Duke Kahanamoku swam for his records. By that time, as the sun was
beginning its nightly drop into the darkening sea, there were still enough
strollers and fishermen to provide cover, but not enough people to make
the place crowded. I was dressed like a moke, in a grubby T-shirt from a
surfing contest I'd lost years before, a pair of low-slung shorts and worn
tennis shoes. I had a tattered backpack slung over one shoulder, and inside
it were stacks of twenties and fifties which had been treated with fluorescent
powder. I hadn't shaved for two days, and when an elderly couple wearing
matching aloha shirts gave me a wide berth on the sidewalk along Kalākaua
Avenue, I knew the look was complete. |
I was almost through my second beer when a guy came up to me. I was still dressed in my moke outfit, still hadn't shaved. He was tall and thin, gawky as a giraffe, his head shaved so that only a blond stubble remained. He almost passed me, then leaned up close to my ear and whispered, "I like it rough." His tongue grazed the outside of my ear.
I shivered, and pushed away. Suddenly I knew I had to get out. If I didn't I'd do something, I wasn't sure what. I might follow the giraffe into a back room, or punch his lights out, or tear off my clothes and jump up onto a table and dance. I dropped my empty bottle on a table and nearly ran for the door.
Outside, I stood next to a lamp post, gulping moist warm air. I was almost ready to start home when I heard the sound of somebody dragging something down the alley. I heard a car door open and then slam closed, and then a black Jeep Cherokee swung out of the alley behind the club, fishtailing a bit as the driver made his turn. I figured the driver was probably running away from somebody he'd met at the bar. I knew how he felt.
Then I saw the body.
|
