Chapter Eight
Abby
He had asked me not to call him Mr. Stone. He had started at the bar, but then he'd spent the rest of his time alone. He had had some food and watched the performances, but then he'd just stood and walked towards the ocean on his own.
I felt a little crazy, like a stalker fangirl watching him like that, but he had actually come. I'd invited him to come, and he had — and now he was having a terrible time.
I couldn't just leave him like that. Maybe if I hadn't gone up there to talk to him, he would be having a better time alone. I told Makani I would be right back and went over to him. I felt responsible for this. Besides, the guests having a good time was my problem.
I searched his face looking back at me. There was some light from the luau, but it was too dark to see whether he looked as tired as he had been earlier in the day.
He wanted me to sit? With him? I glanced back at the luau. I had said I would be a little bit. Maybe he wanted someone to talk to. The girl in me who had been a fan of his music was nervous as hell about what he'd just asked me to do. The girl whose job it was to make sure he was okay walked over calmly and sat next to him in the sand.
"People like me make your job pretty hard, huh?" he asked, looking at me.
"People who refuse to have a good time?" I said playfully. He laughed a little.
"Sorry. I've just been out of it lately. I came here to get away. If I wanted to hole up in my room watching bad movies, I should have stayed in LA."
"It's not too late. You still have the rest of the summer."
"Yeah. Tomorrow, I might even leave the suite without you having to come up and make me."
"We were just worried you might have died up there. That would be terrible for our numbers," I joked, scared suddenly that was too dark. He laughed.
"Another thing I wouldn't have had to leave LA to do," he sighed. "Will hanging out here make me as chipper as you?"
"You're on a paradise island at a world-class resort. What else would you need?" I asked, ribbing him a little. I wanted to get another laugh out of him.
"I know. I'm so ungrateful," he said dramatically. Who was this guy, and where had he been all this time? Maybe he was having a better time than I thought he had been, after all. "Thanks for the pamphlets, by the way. You're right. I need to get out more."
"Yeah. The beach is a lot more fun during the day," I said. He smiled and looked out over the water.
A comfortable silence fell between us. I was glad it seemed all he needed was someone to talk to. I still didn't really know what had been eating at him, but at least he was loosening up. I glanced over at him. He seemed a little fidgety, like he wasn't comfortable. We hadn't been sitting that long, but there was a chance he wanted to maybe get off the sand.
"Hey, is everything okay?" I asked him.
"I'm fine," he said.
"Can I get you anything? I can run up to the bar if you want a water or anything like that."
"I'm just a little under the weather. I should be fine in the morning," he said.
Under the weather? Well, that could mean anything. Was there a bug going around? Was he coming down with something? Was it a stomach thing? Like something he had eaten didn't agree with him? I didn't want to try call him on anything, but the days and days of isolation, then him finally coming outside and still not being able to sit and enjoy the luau seemed suspect.
I had a feeling he wasn't telling me the whole truth. Something was bothering him. I thought about mentioning it, but he had finally agreed to come out of his room and do something. It was something. I couldn't knock him for trying. Whatever it was, it was probably bad, but I didn't want to pry.
"You can call the front desk if it gets worse," I said instead. "We can contact a doctor if you're ill."
"Thanks," he said, smiling at me. I smiled back. What was going on with him? All the stuff with his band was public knowledge. His leaving had been big news. It was none of my business, but I'd seen the turnaround he’d had just after the conversation we had just had. If he talked about it, whatever it was, he'd most likely feel better.
"Hey, what's that?" he asked suddenly.
"What?"
"On your neck. What happened?"
I clammed up. I never really thought about my scar. It had faded quite a bit since the actual wound, and a lot of the time, people weren't brazen enough to ask questions that personal. When they did ask me, I had a story ready, one that made sense and which threw them off my scent. I just hadn't been expecting Nate to say anything, especially since we had only just had a real conversation.
"Oh, this," I said, rubbing the mark a few inches below my jaw. "Surfing accident. Happened years ago."
"Looks like it must have hurt."
"It looks worse than it was," I said, trying to pass it off. I had told the lie enough times that it came naturally to me. I wasn't proud of that, but I told it out of necessity. Only Makani knew the real reason I had that scar on my neck.
When I tried to tell actual surfers that that was how I had gotten it, they had a lot more questions since they knew the ways you could get hurt surfing. It would have had to be a pretty unique surfing accident if it left me with a scar on my neck that looked suspiciously like one I would have gotten from an edged blade. I was good at deflecting, but I was sure a lot of people didn’t actually believe me.
"Did you get back on your board after that?" he asked.
"If I didn't, how would I have ever become a good enough surfer to make sure I never had another accident again?" I asked, looking over at him. He was leaning back on his arms. I could see his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths and his eyes were shut. Sweat had broken out over his forehead. The muscle in his jaw was working like he was grinding his teeth.
"Nate, are you feeling all right?" I asked, concerned. Something was definitely not right.
"I'm gonna turn in," he said, getting up slowly, like his body hurt. I got to my feet. "Great party, by the way. I mean it. Thanks for inviting me."
He turned and walked away before I could say anything to him. I watched him go because if he had been walking any faster, it would have been a full run. I watched him disappear into the luau before I lost sight of him.
I left the water’s edge, thinking I'd follow him, but realized I was still on the clock. I scanned the luau for Makani, spotting her chatting with a guest. I walked up to them and waited while she finished up.
"Where were you?" she asked.
"I was just down by the water. Nate was sitting there, and I went to talk to him."
"He was on the beach?"
"Yes, and now he's left. I think he might be sick."
"Whoa. Start again. Slow down," she said slowly, giving me a chance to say what I meant clearly instead of raving.
"He seemed all right when he arrived at the luau, but then I saw him go down to the edge of the water and just sit there on his own. I felt guilty that he might not be having a good time, so I went over there. We talked for a few minutes, but then he started acting weird."
"Weird how?"
"Fidgety. He started sweating and sounded out of breath. I think he might be ill or something. When I asked him, he said he was fine and just left, practically running away from me."
“I wouldn’t be that worried. If he came in the first place, then I wouldn’t say he’s that bad. Maybe he just wanted to lie down.”
“Who just wanted to lie down?” Joseph’s sharp voice asked cutting into our conversation. Makani looked at me to tell him.
“Nate. Mr. Stone. The guy in the Hulopoe suite,” I explained. “He left the luau saying he felt a little ill.”
“Where is he now?” he asked.
“He went back to his suite,” I said, glad he was stepping in.
“Go check on him. Make sure he’s okay.” What? Go check on him? That would have been what I had done as Abby the person, not Abby the employee. Wasn’t that a little weird? Nate was an important guest, but this sounded a little like an invasion of privacy.
“Okay, I can do that,” I said, keeping my concerns to myself, figuring he knew what he was doing.
“Take some meds up to him. He might need something,” Joseph instructed. Nurse Abby, reporting for duty. I told Makani I’d be back and went back to the main building. Wouldn't it be better to call a doctor? I thought.
Maybe it wasn't anything serious. I'd go and check on him first so we didn't end up calling one for nothing. What did I need? I went into the staff changing room and hunted for the first aid kit. There wasn't much to choose from in there. Antacids, antihistamines, painkillers, Pepto, and cough medicine. I frowned. I'd just carry the whole thing.
I got nervous going up to his suite. It was probably nothing. He had made it all the way up himself. Maybe it was food poisoning or something. I got to the door and took a deep breath. I raised my arm to knock, but noticed it wasn't closed. It was ajar like he'd walked in without realizing he'd left it open.
Go inside, I thought. No. I couldn't do that. That was so unprofessional. This wasn't a supermarket, I couldn’t just walk in. I knocked the door gently so it didn't swing open. I waited before trying again, a little harder. Still nothing. Was he asleep? Was he even in there? Okay. I had knocked, so I wasn't just barging into a guest's room uninvited. I pushed to door open slowly.
"Hello? Nate?" I called. He wasn't in the living area. I checked the bathroom before finally deciding to check the bedroom. The door was wide open, so I walked in. The sliding double door to the terrace was wide open. I thought about going to close it before the sight of Nate stopped me cold. I dropped the first aid kit, causing it to pop open and everything to spill over the floor.
My hand went over my mouth, and my mind went blank. Nate was on the couch near his bed. He slumped over one side like he was asleep. The hoodie he had been wearing was on the floor. One of his arms was tucked under him and the other was hanging loosely off the side of the couch. The skin of his arm was pockmarked red with inflamed scars and stuck in his arm, precariously hanging, was a syringe.
Oh, my God. Nate. I walked over to him, petrified that he wasn't sleeping and something worse had happened. I was shaking as I stood over him. I watched his body, finally seeing the slight rise and fall of his chest, breathing in and out. I didn't know what I was looking at. All I knew was that I wanted to get out of there. I rushed back to the floor, haphazardly reassembling the first aid kit.
What had I just seen? I tried to forget the worst part of the image. I thought I knew so much about him. I knew he liked to drink and that he was a troublemaker, but this?
I let myself out and closed his door for him. Nobody else needed to see that.