Chapter 1
Mary Cahira O’Hara-Twenty-Six years old Las Vegas, Nevada July 5th, 2016
“Show me a man with a tattoo and I'll show you a man with an interesting past.”
― Jack London
A ttention passengers, we are cleared for landing. At this time buckle your seat belts, store all of your possessions under your seat and push your tray tables back into a secure position. It's a balmy 90 degrees already in the Las Vegas area. We should be landing right on time at 0815. Thank you for flying United Airlines."
The announcement startles me out of my daydreams, and I glance over at my friend, Rebecca, who is somehow still sleeping through the commotion all around her. She fell asleep ten minutes into our flight from Baltimore, curled up by the window with her knees tucked into her chest and her face resting against the window. The woman has slept through meal service, a drunk couple arguing and a crying baby for the last six hours. I try to peek out her window at the Las Vegas skyline but Rebecca’s corkscrew, white-blond curls are sticking up at wild angles, and my view is obstructed.
"Rebecca, wake up. We are about to land." Her gray eyes flutter open briefly, but she is back to sleep within seconds. I blow one of my own wild red curls out of my face in exasperation, shaking her shoulders a little this time. "Rebecca, WAKE UP! Don't make me resort to drastic measures Gabriella!"
Rebecca blinks sleepily in confusion, her eyebrows wrinkling a little before she finally opens her eyes and glares at me. “Really? You did not just go there! You know I hate it when you call me Gabriella! Do you want me to call you Merida? You have the crazy red curls flying everywhere. Although instead of pretty blue eyes you have ugly green ones.” Rebecca’s cheeky grin and smiling eyes have the desired effect. I can never stay mad at her.
“Rebecca, come on. You know Gabriella is an awesome nickname. Sarah looks like Xena, with her dark hair and blue eyes. You're Gabriella, her kick butt sidekick. Short, blond, and cute. Plus, you're toned with a voluptuous figure. It's a compliment."
Rebecca looks at me with skepticism but starts to sit up and stow the tray table and her purse. “Fine. I guess it is a good nickname. But I’m not short. I’m vertically challenged. Or petite.”
I can’t help the snort that escapes but attempt to cover it with a cough. Rebecca isn’t buying it. I hear muttering under her breath, a sure sign she is planning a prank as pay back. I sigh and glance across the aisle at Sarah.
"Did you get any sleep, Sarah?" I ask.
"A little maybe. I'm sure it was a lot more than I would have in business class. Thank you so much for treating all of us to First Class, Cahira. Christopher slept great, and I did have more room to stretch out my legs. It was very considerate." Sarah's voice is quiet and sincere, but her cobalt blue eyes are rimmed with red from fatigue. Unlike Rebecca, Sarah has been awake for most of the flight, sleeping fitfully in seats too close for her long legs to stretch out comfortably.
I blush at the thank you but manage to mumble, “You’re very welcome.” Then quickly add, “I guess not even First Class is comfortable when you have legs that reach all the way up to your neck.”
Sarah smiles at the compliment then adds, "For the record, you can call me Xena anytime. Although I'm not quite as skilled with a sword."
I grin back and watch Sarah gently extracting Christopher from her lap before she buckles him into the other seat, smoothing back his straight black hair. He stirs and stretches his chubby little arms and legs, his upturned nose wrinkling in confusion at the unfamiliar surroundings. I hear his little voice ask, "Mommy, ere Thomas?"
Sarah reaches below the seat and grabs the Thomas the Tank engine blanket I gave Christopher last Christmas. “Here’s your Thomas blanket Aunty Cahira gave you. Why don’t you look out the window at the pretty clouds now so mommy can pack our stuff?”
“Otay Mommy. Lub you.” Christopher puckers up his lips and Sarah gives him a sweet kiss, disregarding the wet face and runny nose that seem to be a permanent condition in toddlers. After Christopher gets his kiss, he grabs his blanket and pulls it close with one hand while the other hand is put to use snuggling his favorite brown teddy bear.
The landing goes smoothly, but it takes us about 30 minutes to reach our luggage carousel after we disembark. We have to cross three terminals, take Christopher to the bathroom and grab him a snack before we can even think about collecting our luggage.
“The airport is mammoth,” Sarah moans wearily as we make our way to the luggage carousels.
“Mammoth and crowded as heck. I’ve never seen so many different ethnic groups either. There is a verifiable United Nations of people here.” Rebecca comments.
"Yeah, and unfortunately they are all jostling and squawking at one another like vendors at a fish market," I add, rubbing my temples as the noise escalates.
Christopher’s usually happy disposition is being tested by all the commotion and strange surroundings. I can tell by his trembling bottom lip and scrunched up little hands that he is about ten seconds away from losing it. Poor Sarah is struggling with all of his paraphernalia, so I scoop Christopher up and settle him on my hip. He buries his little face in my mass of red hair and snuggles into my shoulder.
I hear his little voice whisper, "Wub you Aunty Hira," and my heart melts a little more with love for this beautiful little boy.
We finally make our way to the baggage carousel, where our limo driver is waiting, our luggage already loaded on his cart. I don't think I have ever seen a man so huge. He is easily 6 foot 7 inches with a neck as big as a tree trunk, a chiseled torso, and a square jaw. His body seems to radiate a raw, primal strength. I'm guessing his heritage is either Hawaiian or Pacific Islander judging by his bronze skin and shiny black hair that falls a little past his shoulders. When Sarah and Rebecca see the sign he is holding for, "O'Hara, party of 4," they look back at me with their mouths wide open. Sarah only has the energy for a relieved smile. However, Rebecca lets out a happy squeal before checking herself and walking over to the driver with a sashay of her hips.
I hear Rebecca introduce herself and the rest of our party in a small voice, as if telling a secret. There is a flash of sexual appreciation on our driver's face before he schools it into a more professional mask.
His deep bass voice rumbles across the baggage area, "Aloha, welcome to Las Vegas. My name is Ekaulo Kalani. Please call me Frank. The limo is waiting right outside. Ladies, allow me to get the door for you. Drinks are waiting inside the limo's refrigerator if you want to relax while I load everything."
Rebecca stumbles forward in a daze when Frank turns to leave. In a move demonstrating a surprising amount of agility for such an enormous frame, Frank spins around and grabs Rebecca by the elbow to steady her before she face plants on the tile floor. They stare at each other for a few long seconds before Frank reluctantly pulls away and returns to loading our luggage. Rebecca’s eyes look so clouded with desire I am surprised she can still see. I have to grab hold of her arm while she fans her face with her hand, looking like she has just been told the meaning of life. Actually, I’m pretty sure Rebecca would say the meaning of life belongs in Frank’s umm…heart.
We follow Frank outside, and Rebecca manages to regain control over her faculties by the time we step outside to the loading area. The heat immediately flies up to enclose us.
Crap. I feel like I am a turkey basting in an oven.
"Oh my god, it's got to be over 90 degrees already-and it is only 8 AM!" I exclaim. Christopher is squirming in my arms now, so I let him get down but keep a firm grip on his hand.
“I think my nose hairs just got singed!” Rebecca mutters, blinking as her eyes adjust to the bright light.
Sarah laughs and focuses her attention back on Christopher, before saying, “At least it is only dry heat, right? The humidity has to be in the negative range.”
“I guess, but there is a huge pool to look forward to once we get to the Mandalin Cove Hotel. Besides, maybe the lack of humidity will tame my hair a little,” I suggest hopefully.
Rebecca smirks, “Not sure that a lack of humidity is going to do it Cahira.”
I send Rebecca an air smooch and stick out my tongue before responding. "I got the point. My hair needs work, your nails are awful, and Sarah needs some R&R. Which is exactly why I booked all of us for a 6-hour long spa and salon day at the Mandalin. We start our day of pampering at 10 AM!!!"
“Oh, my God!” Rebecca and Sarah screech simultaneously and even little Christopher joins in, giggling as he spins around in circles. After a few moments, he falls on his bottom with an Oomph, his big blue eyes looking startled. Instead of crying, he breaks out in infectious giggles, his little Buddha belly shaking from his laughter. We are all cracking up by the time we tumble into the limo, cool air engulfing us in welcome relief. Christopher’s little body is trembling with excitement as he touches everything at once. I see him lunge for the limo’s ice bucket and divert him by filling his sippy cup up with the milk I requested. Christopher takes the cup and sits next to Sarah with his little legs swinging and a look of pure contentment on his little face as he takes a swig of his milk.
Frank shuts the limo door, and I watch from the window as he grabs all of our luggage, Christopher's stroller, and assorted baby paraphernalia in one swoop. Everything is carefully deposited in the limo's trunk within two minutes. When Frank opens the driver's side door to climb in the front seat, he almost has to pour himself in.
Rebecca is fidgeting in her seat, arms crossed over her chest when she blurts out, “What kind of car do you have? You barely fit in a limo!”
Frank flashes an easy smile, white teeth in sharp contrast to his darker skin, a deep chuckle escaping before he responds. "A Volkswagen Beetle. Pretty pink color with the eyelashes and everything."
Rebecca giggles, all flirt, and sass as she tosses her hair and flutters eye lashes that are way too dark for someone with such blond hair. I can almost feel the sexual tension in the air as they stare at one another. Frank's Adam's apple bobs a little in his neck before he manages to clear his throat and get his capacity for speech back, his voice a husky rumble.
"Nah. Just pulling your leg a little. I got a Jeep that has a roof that rolls back. Straight to the Mandalin ladies?"
"Yep, we've got a worn out 30-month-old here," I reply by way of answer.
Frank smiles into the rear view mirror and carefully pulls out into the departure lane. “We will be there in 10 minutes. I happen to know they have a kids club until 5 pm where you could drop off the little guy. They will take him down to the kid’s pool and play area for you.”
"Oh, that's a smart idea. Maybe I could ask the babysitter that Cahira lined up to bring meet us down at the pool after we check in," Sarah responds with a weary tone of voice and a grateful smile.
A smile slides across Frank's lips before he turns his attention back to the road. The three of us don't even try for an air of sophistication as we drive towards the Mandalin. Rebecca had never even been on a plane before today and Sarah confessed that she had only flown once as a teenager. I am a seasoned traveler, but I have never been to Las Vegas before. I feel fascinated by the dichotomy of the sophistication and the gaudiness. There are gleaming hotels with majestic water fountains, palm trees, and chrome everywhere. Turn a corner, and it is nothing but pawnshops and strip clubs.
Sarah looks a little overwhelmed, her voice full of wonderment when she comments on the view. "It's so gorgeous, I never imagined the sky could be this blue, or the desert would have such a glow to it. Still, I can't help but feel like they just put lipstick on a pig."
Rebecca and I burst out laughing.
I see Frank's lips twitch at the corners as he looks in the rearview mirror. After a few seconds, he pipes in with a smile in his voice, “Las Vegas has got her charm, and I've got to say she feels like home with each passing week. But if the city were a woman, she would not be the kind of woman you bring home for your mamma to meet. "
Rebecca ducks her head and mumbles, "Kinda like me."
I grin when I hear the conviction and appreciation in Frank’s voice and the dark look of promise he shoots in her direction. “Oh, I don’t know. I would be honored to bring you home to meet my mamma. I’m from the Hawaiian island of Molokai. My family lives only three miles from Kamaalaea beach. It has beautiful white sand that curves gently into the ocean. I would love to bring you home and meet my mama. She loves any excuse for a lu’au. ”
"It sounds gorgeous, why would you ever leave?" Rebecca asks wistfully. She turns and presses her nose to the window, rubbing the goosebumps on her arms. I have never seen my friend this affected by a man before.
Frank runs a hand through his hair and looks a little chagrined before finally answering, ‘Well, there are slightly more than 7,000 people on the whole island. And most of them are related to me. I came out here a few years ago to help my uncle and haven't made it back home yet."
Rebecca turns back around with a sigh, giving Frank a teasing grin before responding in a playful voice. “I think there might be a woman involved in that story.”
Frank’s bass laugh rumbles like a tidal wave through the limo. “Yeah, you are right about that ka’u hoaaloha. And she wasn’t a woman I would have brought home to my mamma.” We all laugh as he winks at us in the mirror. “Ah, here is the Mandalin now.”
The three of us look up and gasp at the sight of the two huge golden hotels rising up before us. “Oh, we are staying at the Delaney. That’s the smaller of the two buildings, right?”
“’Ae. But the most exclusive. Are the three of you celebrating something in particular?” Frank asks.
“Yep, the three of us just graduated from nursing school and passed the NCLEX certification exam,” I respond proudly.
“Mau hoohiwahiwa. Congratulations.” Frank says with a grin. “I’m going to pull up to the entrance and get your luggage out. Please allow me to handle the door for you ladies.”
We wait in the limo as Frank unloads our luggage. Christopher is already off of Sarah's lap and exploring by the time Frank gets the door open a few minutes later. Frank offers Sarah his hand and ruffles Christopher's hair as they disembark. I see Christopher start bouncing on the sidewalk and can't help but smile at Sarah's fond but exasperated look. She holds tight onto his hand while the hotel porter comes to meet us. I leave Frank with a fat tip and watch as he gives Rebecca an ivory and blue business card with his name and number.
“Make sure you give me a call if you need anything at all ko’u wahi Menehune.”
"What does Menehune mean?" Rebecca asks, tipping her head back to gaze into Frank's face. Her eyes are filled with both frank sexual appraisal and bewilderment. I didn't see either one move, but somehow they are standing centimeters from each other. Desire is so thick in the air I swear I can actually see electricity dancing back and forth between them. For a moment, I'm sure Frank is going to pull Rebecca in for a kiss. Instead, he carefully traces his thumb across her lower lip with his huge hand.
Her lips part as Frank growls out his response in a voice that's pure sex appeal. “A Menehune is like a Hawaiian pixie that makes mischief. It uses a bow to shoot arrows and people fall in love instantly when they are shot. I believe you have shot me with your arrow. Ka'u mea ia aloha ai. I will be seeing you later this evening.”
Rebecca shivers a little as she slips the card into her pocket, her reply too breathy to be audible. When they finally separate and walk away, Rebecca walks back toward us looking like the world has just tilted on its axis. I'm pretty sure Frank feels the same way.
The lobby of the hotel is gorgeous and slightly intimating. In keeping with the theme of the hotel, there is gold everywhere. Gold fixtures, gold chandeliers and even gold marble.
“God, it looks like they hired King Midas as the decorator,” Sarah whispers. I try to maintain an air of dignity but can’t quite contain my smirk.
"Everyone looks like they stepped off the pages of GQ or Vogue," Rebecca whispers back, looking a little intimidated. I feel a bit nervous too but try my best to put my friend at ease with a smile and a quick squeeze of her hand,
The porter loads our luggage onto the cart, and I walk up to the reception desk to check in. A harried looking receptionist greets me with a friendly smile while I introduce myself.
“Hi, I'm Mary Cahira O'Hara. I booked the Executive View suite for the next three days. I checked in on my iPhone online, but I still need three key cards please.”
Once I show the receptionist my ID, she hands over three key cards and waves over the porter.
“Ian, can you please escort Ms. O’Hara and her guests to room 1204?”
“Certainly, please follow me,” he says with a New Jersey accent. Las Vegas must be filled with people from somewhere else.
We travel through the lobby onto the elevators and up to the 12th floor. The four of us follow Ian into the two bedroom executive suite I paid for last month, looking around in awe.
“Holy crap!” Rebecca exclaims, “This suite is fabulous. Floor to ceiling windows, 3-inch thick plush carpeting and chrome everywhere. You rock my friend!” Rebecca's grin is contagious as she bounces up and down on the thick carpet. I notice her sandals are already off so that she can bury her toes in the carpeting.
“It is pretty terrific,” I concede, ducking my head briefly in embarrassment at the attention. I love to treat my friends but hate that they feel like they have to keep thanking me. “Actually, I have never stayed in a hotel this nice before either.”
“But you traveled so much,” Rebecca points out.
“I did travel a lot. However, I have always made every effort to be frugal about where I stayed and what I spent my money on. I have certainly never stayed in a suite with a kitchen, living room, dining room and a bathroom for each bedroom.” I respond with amusement present in the tone of my voice.
“Wow,” Sarah’s voice falters a little,” Are you sure you want Christopher to be in a hotel this nice? You know how he is about touching everything Cahira.”
I give my friend’s shoulder a little squeeze of reassurance, “Actually, I knew you would feel that way. I called yesterday and asked them to remove the breakable items before we checked in.”
Sarah lets out a deep breath, “Whew, thanks that will make this whole experience a lot more relaxing. I don’t want to have to worry about him pulling a thousand dollar vase down on top of his head.”
I give her another reassuring smile before adding, "Why don't you take the room to the right? Rebecca and I will take the suite to the left. Let's meet back up in 15 minutes. I will let Virginia Sanchez know we are here and will meet her in 15 minutes."
“Perfect, thanks a lot, Cahira.” I get a quick hug from Sarah before she turns around and takes off after Christopher, who had already decided that the suite on the right was theirs.
Rebecca and I head into our bedroom. “I call Dibbs on the bathroom!” I call out while hurrying in with my suitcase.
“You slut! Hey, are you going to wear that gold bikini and matching sarong I threatened you into buying last week? Don't come out of there wearing your old navy one-piece!”
“Yes, my little fashionista guru! I know better than to emerge from the bathroom with my old clothes on! I only brought the clothes I bought at Macy's last Friday. Even though you made me go by myself and totally ditched me!” I call back through the door, laughing to myself as I pull my bikini, sarong, and sandals out of my suitcase.
“Hey! I ditched you for a job interview Cahira! But you have to admit I sent you prepared.”
“Yes Rebecca. The fifty page clothing portfolio you left for me to give the department manager was plenty of preparation Rebecca,” I yell back, laughing a little in exasperation.
"Well, someone had to take matters in hand. Your mom always dressed you in high school, but the baggy t-shirts and blue jeans had totally taken over your wardrobe!"
“All true. But the threat to rip out my nose hairs with Kelli Clamps if I didn’t go shopping was a little too much,” I mutter to myself.
I pretty much stuck to the, ‘clothing portfolio,’ Rebecca left me when I walked into Macy's last Friday and threw myself into the skillful hands of the department manager. The one purchase I picked out myself was a gold bikini. My mom was wearing one when she met my dad, and I figured it might give me good karma too. But by the time I left Macy's almost four hours later I had acquired ten shopping bags and dropped nearly $5,000 on a wardrobe.
My thoughts return to the present when I hear Rebecca pounding on the door.
“Hurry up girlfriend!”
“One second Pixie Dust! Be out in three minutes!”
I hear a thump on the door and realize Rebecca has probably thrown something at it. She hates that particular nickname. I look back at my reflection in the mirror. I have never worn a bikini before and I am more than a little concerned about the way my girls threaten to spill over the top. I also notice that I haven’t done as good a job shaving my bikini area as I had thought.
Oh well. That’s what the sarong is for. I can cover it up until I get that Brazilian wax this morning.
I tie the hunter green and gold sarong around my waist and notice it plays up my gold bikini and the green in my eyes. Then I slip on my gold strappy sandals and head out of the bathroom. I open the door just as Rebecca starts to pound on it again and she almost falls into the bathroom floor onto her face. For the second time on an hour.
“Serves you right for being so impatient!” I call out as I flounce away.
Rebecca turns around and sticks her tongue out at me. Then she adds with a cheeky leer, “Damn girl, where have you been hiding those boobs?”
I turn back around and give a little jiggle while laughing and shaking my head.
“I guess under all those baggy t-shirts. My breasts just seemed to keep expanding until I was almost 18 years old. I figure the chemo and radiation probably slowed down that whole process.”
My friend’s eyes turn dark with worry. “Thank God for that throw rug. I might never have met you otherwise.”
“I figure that throw rug probably saved my life. David and a lot of my other friends weren’t so lucky.”
Rebecca envelops me in a hug; she is so petite that she only comes up to my shoulders. Her voice is soft with concern and worries when she responds, "It's been ten years Cahira. You need to move on. David would want you to be happy.”
My heart clenches a little at the mention of his name. David Mc Donald was my one serious boyfriend, granted I was only sixteen years old at the time, but young love doesn’t make it any less real. We bonded over our shared love of Monty Python, Sci. Fi, and our cancer diagnoses. I succeeded in beating my brain tumor –thanks to the location and early staging. One morning I got out of bed quickly and tripped on my corner rug –leading me to fall and hit my head on the corner table in my room. The ER physician decided to do an MRI and caught my brain tumor early. David and a lot of my other friends weren’t so lucky.
“I know Rebecca. It’s just that the memories come back to me with so much force sometimes that I feel like I am experiencing it in real-time. The joy and sorrow from those two years left an indelible scar on my soul. I feel like I didn’t really start healing until I met you and Sarah.”
"Well, this trip is going to mark the beginning of your dating life. Heck, maybe you will even leave her with that lodestone around your neck gone,” Rebecca responds, using air quotes when she talks about my lodestone. I.E., my virginity.
“Yeah, I’m ready for that. But I’m also hoping this will be the start of something new for you and Sarah too. As it stands now, you seem to believe in serial monogamy, flittering from man to man leaving a trail of broken hearts in your wake.”
Rebecca gives me arm a little smack, looking chagrined. “Maybe a certain Hawaiian hottie will come through for me. As for Sarah, I’m just happy that she has finally begun to notice other guys. She hasn’t dated anyone since her divorce. Although, as far as I have observed, there has never been a time when men didn’t notice Sarah.”
“Hard to miss legs that long, a perfect figure and cobalt blue eyes with that shiny black hair.”
“True that. Look, will you be OK while I get changed?”
"I'll be okay. Go ahead, I need to text Virginia anyway."
“OK. I’ll be quick Cahira.”
I pull myself away from my memories and finish finding my phone.
Cahira: Hi Virginia. Headed down to the pool in about ten minutes. Just wanted to let you know we have finished checking in.
I stare at the phone waiting for a response. Virginia knew to expect us around 9:30, but I just want to err on the side of politeness. Virginia Sanchez came highly recommended by the Las Vegas Au Pair Agency. About five minutes later, I get a text notification.
Virginia: Sounds good! I know you have seen my profile picture, but it is a little old. I actually look more like an older Hispanic version of Mrs. Doubtfire.
Cahira: LOL!...Sarah admitted to me on the plane that she has Skyped you no less than five times over the last couple weeks.
Virginia: It’s fine. I understood completely once you told me about Sarah’s ex-husband. There is no doubt that Sarah needs the reassurance.
Cahira: On the other hand, Christopher has absolutely no stranger anxiety.
Virginia: That will work out well for me then. See you soon!
I am so wrapped up in my thoughts that I don’t realize Rebecca has finished in the bathroom until I feel the ties on my bikini top give way and my breasts start to spill out.
“Payback for the short comment!” She calls out with glee, laughing hysterically as I attempt to hold on to my bikini top and grab the strings at the same time.
“Rebecca! I’m going to murder you!”
Rebecca cackles and runs out of the room. Once I have fixed my bikini top, I sprint out to the living room and chase Rebecca around the couch. She just cackles some more, eyes sparkling with mischief as she circles the sofa. Finally, Sarah emerges with Christopher in tow.
“Why are you two acting like Tom and Jerry?” Sarah asks with a stern tone of voice that is belayed by her impish grin. I shoot Rebecca my version of the evil eye but decide not to elaborate further with Christopher in the room.
“Umm … all set?” I ask. Sarah and Rebecca nod and we grab our handbags and head down to the pool.