Johnny raises his hand and starts ticking off the answers on each finger. “The menu is posted on the wall behind, changes are seasonal. If we sell out of something, then we're out of it and it’s crossed off the menu. We have a local fisherman supplier for all the fish, and we use another supplier for a lot of the local vegetables and meat. Yes, we have a bartender. Daniel. He's also a real estate agent so he's going to try and sell you a condo, just warning you. May also try and get in your pants.” Johnny glances at the clock over my head. “He'll be here soon. On Sunday's we open at six, which is in an hour, in case you're still on Chicago time, rest of the week we open at five. We stop serving at ten, though we tend to prepare a few pupus ahead of time on the weekend, for people drinking at the bar.”
“Pupus?” I repeat.
He grins. “Yes. It means, like, tapas. Appetizers. Pupus are our selling point here. Lot's of variety and easy to prepare. People love pupus.”
“We even have a tee shirt that says ‘People Love Our Pupus,’” Charlie says with a laugh. “Which reminds me, we need to order some more in. Honestly there isn’t a pupu joke that doesn’t make me laugh.”
“Aye,” Johnny says. “Get Kate to do that. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. Pupus and fresh fish is what we're known for, and a lot of our food has a Mediterranean slant to it. You know, meze platters and all that. Cheap to make, the health nuts love it. What else? Ah, Nikki. She's our waitress. She works every week night. Kate will run food if it's really busy, which usually means Logan takes over reception. I know he sounded like he's large and in charge with the kitchen but that's his ego talking. I'm the large one here,” he says, poking his thumb into his chest, “and I'm in charge. Logan doesn't step in here all that much, except to drink sometimes with Daniel, and frankly it makes the kitchen one of the best places to work at Moonwater.”
“Sounds like it. Who waitresses on weekends?”
“There are a few local girls, one in Hanalei, one in Haena. They're great for back-up too.”
“Hey guys,” a man's voice breaks in, the accent high and lilting. “And Ms. Locke.”
I turn to see Jin coming in, grabbing an apron off a rack and tying it behind his back.
“And Jin,” Johnny says. “He's the dishwasher.”
“It's a fascinating job,” Jin says dryly, giving me a kind smile to let me know he doesn't really mind at all.
“He's the backbone of our operation,” Johnny says. “And when he's not washing dishes, he's the hotel maintenance man. And sometimes the shuttle bus driver.”
I laugh lightly. “I'm starting to think that everyone here is a shuttle bus driver at some point.”
“Except me,” Charlie says.
“Because you took the bus to Hanalei beach and gave rides home to the surfer chicks,” Johnny points out.
“That was one time,” Charlie protests.
Johnny rolls his eyes. “Useless, I tell ya.”
After that I stay in the kitchen until the customers start coming into the restaurant. Just enough to observe how things are going without feeling like I’m inspecting them or getting in the way.
They have the music going on the radio, something with a ukulele and a soft singing voice akin to Jack Johnson, and all three of them seem to really enjoy their job. I can see how seriously Johnny takes his food, which is a relief, but he’s also all smiles and easy-going, which is also a relief. Your job is only as good as the company you keep in it.
When I’ve watched enough, I leave, the jetlag seeming to hit me again. Even though I swore I’d try and stay up late, it’s only seven pm and I can barely stand on my own two feet. I wave goodbye to Johnny, Jin, and Charlie and take a quick peek out at the floor. Just as I thought, about half the restaurant is occupied. I spot Nikki, the waitress, with her long highlighted hair, bustling about and Daniel, the bartender, a guy in his early-thirties with hair pulled back in a ponytail and a loud Hawaiian shirt, but save my introductions for tomorrow.
By the time I step outside, I’m met with a wall of humidity, darkness, and the thick hum of crickets. I walk slowly across the parking lot, my eyes closing momentarily as I breathe in deep, the smell of the ocean, the flowers, the everything. In some ways I feel ready for this next adventure, in other ways I’m a total fish out of water.
It takes me a few moments to remember where my new home is and I head to reception, remembering that Logan had a few papers for me to sign.
The doors to the office are closed but the light is on. I carefully open them and peer inside. Kate is at the desk, shuffling through papers, her dark hair falling over her shoulders. She doesn’t glance up as she says, “So how was your first day?” she asks, her voice monotone.
“A whirlwind,” I tell her. “How long is your shift?”
“Too long,” she says. She looks at me. “I normally do seven am to three pm but Logan wanted the afternoon and evening off and he’s the boss so whatever. As long as I get my overtime, I’m cool with it.”
I’m trying to think of something else to say—there’s a lot to say, yet I feel like it’s crucial I say the right thing. I want Kate to like me. If I’m going to be living with her, this is one relationship I need to start off on the right foot.
“So how late do you have to work tonight?” I ask. “Because don’t worry about me when you come in, I’m jetlagged like hell. I’ll sleep through anything.”