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“What? I did?”
“So I could have a better view of my brother who was body surfing. Then you danced in the sand with me so I would calm the hell down. My mother always liked you for that.”
“So you have been in my arms?”
“And we have danced.”
There is a pause full of sound and fury in my head.
“Would you be up for a late dinner this week? Maybe after one of your shows?”
I sound like a pimply kid asking the cheerleader for a date, having to blurt out the question before his heart explodes.
“Yes. Definitely yes.”
“Definitely is a good word. How about Sunday? Do you work that night?”
Did I sell my ignorance of her schedule?
“Yes. If you’re there by six thirty I’ll be able to hold the table. Is that too early?”
“No. It’s just right.”
“Will you be bringing Alana?”
“No. This is a date, woman.”
Now the chuckle becomes a laugh, and the tune it makes is my new favorite sound.
“Isn’t it?” I say.
“I hope so.”
Another call breaks in.
“Oh, it’s Akoni. I’ll see you Sunday, after the show.”
“I’ll be there. Goodnight, Leilani.”
“Goodnight, Alek.”
As the conversation ends, another begins. Me, myself, and I come to a unanimous decision. There’s something here.
My Saturday morning began with loud barking outside the bedroom door. Looking into the SUV’s rearview mirror, I think it’s about to happen again. Kanaka The Observer sits regally alert, staring back at me like a statue. Am I in a comedic horror story?The dog was the killer all along!It’s all part of the show that is about to start. He’s waiting to glimpse the restaurant and announce the place. Alana’s backseat partner recognizes the route, and knows how close we are.
As we climb the long drive to Florenza’s, the vista makes its impression once again. There is so much natural beauty it looks like another planet. A lush and living environment, overlooking an historic bay and a golf course. The large open aired dining room comes into view. Three…two…the barking commences. For us, and everyone within a mile radius.
The place needs a paint job. The white wood looks a little grayed, and the green shutters are faded. My critical eye begins its review. First of all this isn’t a foot traffic kind of place. People have towantwhat we have, enough to make the trip. Looking timeworn is not going to draw a crowd.
If we can’t even take care of the exterior, what hope is there for good food? Unfortunately, the Italian restaurant looks out of place. Right off the bat, there is a serious image problem. A disconnect.
Mom is silent, but Kanaka is not. He barks an excited greeting to the colorful birds moving tree to tree. Whenever they see each other, there is a new conversation.
“Dammit dog! Shut up!”
“Alekankelo! Be nice. He is just excited to be back with his friends.”
Alana chuckles under her breath. She enjoys the scolding.
