4 Kaua'i Me a River (19 page)

When
the fax had gone through, I took the certificate out of the machine and looked
at it. On the line for father they’d typed the name, Coyote P. Moon. How weird
that for my entire life I’d known that name but didn’t have a single clue about
the person behind it. In my teen years I’d imagined my father to be someone
famous. Maybe a rocker like Gene Simmons from Kiss or a world-class athlete
who’d had to leave when he got word he’d been selected for the 1976 Summer
Olympics team.  

Later,
I found out about the legions of 1970’s counter-culture kids who’d scraped
together enough money to fly to Hawaii and then had just stuck around. They
surfed and smoked weed and mooched off the government for as long as possible before
either maturity or family pressure called them back to the mainland.

Apparently
my father had fallen into the latter category.

I
folded the birth certificate and put it back in the envelope. I sat at my desk,
staring out the front window and pondering everything that had happened in the
past week. I’d learned my precious mother had died trying to save my brother’s dad
from the police chief’s pot-head son. And my dad had returned to Hawaii and
became a wealthy businessman who chose to never reveal himself to me until he
died. And then he’d willed me millions of dollars while totally excluding his
other children. His first wife had just died in a drinking and driving wreck
and, for some reason, the cops think I had something to do with it. Then, after
all that, I come home to my best friend becoming a new mother and my “Rookie of
the Year” boyfriend playing the gracious host to two women and three kids.

Last
week had been over-the-moon bizarre. This week couldn’t help but be better.

***

About half
an hour after I’d faxed Valentine the birth certificate I got a call. “Hello
Pali, it’s Valentine again. Say, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask another favor.”

“Okay.”

“I
appreciate you faxing your birth record, but the court will require an attested
birth certificate.”

“So
the fax won’t do? Do you want me to mail it to you?” I said.

“No,
that won’t help. I need a certified copy of the original long form birth
certificate. The document you faxed to me isn’t a legal document. It’s just a
birth record. It doesn’t contain any signatures.”

“But
that’s all I have. When I applied for my passport they accepted it.”

“Yes,
well the federal government has latitude with these things. The courts view it
differently.”

“What can
I do?”

“You
should be able to get a copy of your birth certificate from the state records office
in Honolulu. You can order one by mail but it’ll take too long. I need a copy
by Friday. The records office will want ID and a document stating this is an
urgent request. I’ll fax you a letter to take with you.”

“So this
means another plane ride?” I said.

“Didn’t
your dad mention you were an air marshal at one time?”

“Point
taken. It’s just that I’m not getting any work done here. I need to—”

“Pali,
after you get me that birth certificate, this probate can get underway. And
once probate’s been settled, your job will be the least of your concerns.” She
said it with a smile in her voice but it made me cringe.

“You
said it could take months or even a year. I’ve still got to make my house
payment.”

“Of
course. But right now, the most important thing is to get that birth
certificate to me ASAP.”

“I’ll
go tomorrow,” I said.

 “Tomorrow’s
a holiday. Try to get the earliest flight out on Thursday,” said Valentine.

“Oh wow,
I forgot. Tomorrow’s the Fourth of July.”

“Yes,
no mail, no banks, and no government offices.” There was a beat of dead air and
then she went on in a cheery voice, “Have you made plans for the holiday?”

“Not
yet. But I’m still playing catch-up from being gone. I’ll probably just hang
around the house.”

“Well,
whatever you do, have a relaxing day. And please give me a call when you get that
certificate.”

We
said our good-byes. I looked up the website for Hawaii birth records and found
I’d have to go to the Department of Health, Vital Records Division on Punchbowl
Street in downtown Honolulu. I understood why Valentine had advised me to get
an early flight. The office was only open from 7:45 in the morning to 2:30 in
the afternoon.

I’d
hoped to hear from Hatch but it was already three o’clock and so far, nothing.
I sat at my desk willing the phone to ring until I’d had enough. I locked up
and went down to Palace of Pain. I went full-tilt, no holds barred. It worked.
I’d learned long ago that one way to avoid fretting was to start sweating.

CHAPTER 23

After
spending the Fourth of July washing my car, doing laundry, and generally just moping
around the house, Steve allowed me to tag along with him to the Independence Night
Blowout at the Ball and Chain. The B & C was his gay bar of choice in Kihei;
a town known more for family-friendly vacation rentals than Calvin Klein
underwear models. The proprietor had decked the place out in red, white and
blue bunting and balloons and he’d strewn glittery confetti stars over every
possible horizontal space.

When
we walked in someone yelled Steve’s name from a table in the corner. We both
turned. It was Levi. He waved us over to join him.

“You
chat him up,” Steve whispered in my ear. “I’ll go grab us some drinks. Meet me
at my usual spot.”

Levi
asked about Farrah and I filled him in as best I could about Farrah tracking
down the baby’s birth mother and them coming to an agreement about Farrah
raising the boy as her
hanai
son.

“I
don’t get it,” he said. “You can do that? I mean, don’t you have to go to court
or something?”

“Nah,
the Hawaiians have been taking care of family stuff like this for more than a
century. It’s like they say,
We don’t need no stinkin’ badges
.”

“Well,
that’s good I guess. Say, what’s with Steve? He’s really been avoiding me
lately. Did I do something wrong?”

If he
had, Steve hadn’t let me in on it. I shrugged. “Sometimes he’s like that. When
was the last time you bought him a drink?”

Levi bolted
from the table and headed toward the bar.

Steve
came over with a glass of chardonnay for me and a club soda for himself. “What
was that about?” he said. “Levi practically vaulted over the bar to pay for
this round.”

“He
thinks you’re shutting him out,” I said. “I asked him if he’d shown appropriate
patronage to his don.”

“Oh
great. I guess you’re still hung up on the mafia thing.”

“Hey,
if the shoe fits. So are you?”

“Are I
what?”

“Are
you shutting him out?”

“No,”
he said. “Not intentionally.”

“Trouble
in paradise?”

“I
guess it’s something like that. You’ll notice I’m here with you tonight and Steven’s
nowhere in sight.”

“So,
which is it? Has Steven got a thing for Levi or the other way around?” I said.

Steve
shook his head. “Don’t even ask.”

“Sheesh,
look at us,” I said. “I’ve got Hatch troubles and you’re pining over Steven. Our
lives are like a pathetic reality show.”

“Yeah,”
he said. “Except neither of us is getting rich or famous in the process.”

I
sucked down the rest of my chard and then put my hand on his. “Can you keep a
secret?”

The
rest of the night passed in a hazy blur of bad chardonnay, dancing to the
soundtrack from ‘Glee,’ and trips to a stifling ‘ladies’ room where half of the
‘ladies’ were guys in drag hogging the mirror.

***

I woke
up early Thursday morning with a headache and a throbbing pinky-toe.

“Coffee?”
said Steve as I stumbled into the kitchen.

“Can
you set up an I-V? I think my throat’s on strike.”

“You
were pretty funny last night. I mean, it’s kind of fun to be the designated
driver. If I were diabolical I could’ve gotten enough photos to blackmail you out
of a year’s rent.”

“Did Steven
ever make an appearance?” I said. It was unkind of me to bring up Steve’s
bruised love life, but I didn’t want to suffer alone. I poured myself some
coffee and dumped in cream and sugar.

“Yeah,
actually he did. In fact, he’s still asleep upstairs.”

So
much for misery looking for a little company.

“You
guys made up?”

“Yeah.
I was just being touchy, I guess. He said he’d seen me introducing Levi around
and thought he should do his bit.”

“And
what was his ‘bit’?”

“He
danced with him most of last Saturday night.”

“Some
‘bit’.”

“Yeah,
but it’s okay. I’ve gotten over myself.”

I put
two more spoonful’s of sugar in my coffee.

“Didn’t
you already put in sugar?” Steve said.

“I’m
not feeling very sweet this morning. I guess it’s time for me to consider getting
over myself too. I haven’t heard a peep from either Hatch or Farrah since
Monday. And I’ve got to leave again this morning.”

“Didn’t
you see your message? Hatch left a voicemail on Tuesday. I wrote it down.” He got
up and rifled around by the phone until he came up with a scrap of paper. In
his precise handwriting it said,
Picnic Honokowai Beach Pk. 7/4 at 3pm, Call
Hatch
.

“Why
didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Hey, I
wrote it down. You need to check for messages. I always put them right here by
the phone.” Steve sounded irked but it was probably to cover up his guilt for
forgetting to tell me about it.

“I’ll
call him later this afternoon.” I checked the wall clock. “First, I need to make
a quick trip to Honolulu to pick up my birth certificate.”

“For
court?”

“Yeah.
Valentine said the thing I’ve been using for a birth certificate isn’t
official. I’ve got to go to the state records office and get a certified copy.”

Now
that Steve knew about my possible inheritance he was eager to help me get it. He
offered to drive me to the airport.

“And I
don’t mind parking and walking you up to security.”

“Hey, hold
off on the major sucking up,” I said. “I haven’t seen a penny yet and according
to the lawyer, these things take months. Sometimes years.”

He was
undeterred. “Still, you’re an heiress-in-waiting. That’s good enough for me.”

 When
we pulled up to the white zone it seemed like even the airport was nursing a
hangover. In the open-air lobby there was hardly anyone in the check-in lines.
The sky caps were leaning against the posts gabbing with each other.

“Just
drop me off,” I said. “I’ll make the next flight, no problem.”

I was waiting
at the gate for the eight-fifteen flight to be called when my cell phone rang. Good.
It was probably Hatch calling to say he’d missed me at the picnic. I prepared
myself to act indignant that Steve hadn’t given me the message.

“
Aloha
,”
I sang into the phone.

It was
Valentine. “So glad I caught you. I called and called last night but you never picked
up.”

 Since
when is it a serious breach of conduct to be out of touch for a few hours? But
maybe in Valentine’s world—where her clients are using their one phone call from
jail—it is.

She
went on. “Anyway, where are you now?”

“I’m
in the Kahului airport. I’m on the next flight to Honolulu.”

“Good.
We need that birth certificate. Will you be bringing it over to Kaua'i?”

“I was
hoping I could just fax it.”

“Yes,
well I thought that would work, but this morning I learned the judge is
insisting on originals. He’s taking a two-week vacation starting tomorrow so if
we don’t get this locked up before then, it will be put aside until he returns.
And after he returns he’ll be swamped with backlog. Do you see where this is
going?”

“Yes.”

“Can
you indulge me by catching a flight as soon as you get the certificate?”

“Can’t
I just send it with a courier?”

“I
don’t want to go into all the times I’ve had couriers drop the ball,” Valentine
said.

Another
trip to Kaua'i was right up there with a root canal or jury duty, but I had no
excuse. I had no wedding business pending and my personal life had flat-lined. I
told Valentine I’d come. I got in line for my Honolulu flight and shut down my
phone. It looked like I wouldn’t be getting together with Hatch for at least
another day.

CHAPTER 24