Leis For Sale
Unpublsihed Short Story
I looked out the window, then at the calendar, then back out the window again. There was some contempt growing within me as the clutter of neon fog clouded my vision. So many billboards and skyscrapers, all built up so high you could barely see the stars. I remembered when I was younger and how it had looked back then. A verdant landscape lush with greenery and vibrant-looking flowers. I couldn’t see any of that from the top, but I felt deep within my heart that it still had to be down there somewhere, amongst the gray rubble they call a street.
My thoughts were interrupted as Langley walked in, striding with a confidence foreign to me. The air itself seemed to pause as he slumped down in his chair, his eyes fixing themselves on mine. He rifled quickly through a few papers and finally spoke
“Evening Koa, sorry I was late. There was a meeting with HR on the 8th floor. It was all very run-of-the-mill. I assume you know why I called you up here?”
“Actually sir I didn’t get the memo.”
“Excellent, so I’ll be needing a new secretary then.” He muttered underneath his breath as he placed small glasses on his face. He shifted in the leather office chair and looked at me blankly, his apathy now appearing to match mine. “Well it's about that mural, we want you to paint it.” In an instant, I was jolted into a state of complete alertness.
“The Mural… th-that’s quite the job.” I managed to scramble a few words out before the shock overtook me. I paused for a minute to regain my composure, hoping that he would break the silence with a reassuring comment. He didn’t though, and I felt compelled to continue. “Why me?”
“Well you’re Mel’s grandson, after all, I couldn’t have started this company without him. His ideas allowed me to build this place into what it is today. Plus you have the skills to back up your name, you’ve been an artist here for a while now. Believe it or not, there are people even higher up in this company than me and they want a bit of a ‘native’ touch. A bit too much controversy last time.” He rolled his eyes. “They want you on this” Then began the cascade of stories about my grandfather, some half-truths mixed in with the lies.
There were many things wrong with Langley’s flowery accounts of those years, but it typically wasn’t what he said that angered me, but rather what he chose to leave out. There was a reason I worked among the painters and not the executives. There was a reason my brothers moved back to the mainland. There was a reason my grandfather died penniless. It all had to do with him. This greed of his. There was so much shame in continuing here, but I wanted to stay the course no matter how much it hurt. I couldn’t bear to leave. Even as I watched the slow twist. From artistry to marketing, from beauty to spectacle. I held back and bit my tongue only because this was an incredible opportunity. I could finally represent my family in a way that honored us. If nothing else, at least to show that we were still here.
After a while, he went further into detail about the actual project itself.
“The city wants something that represents the modern culture of Hawaii, it's a celebration of sorts. You know Kamehameha day. It's about that old king who-”
“Yeah, I know what it is.” I quickly replied. I was amused and quite surprised that he had pronounced the name right.
“Well they want to unveil a small mural on the east wall of city hall, it's supposed to cap off the parade they’re planning. Can I trust you on this?” An uncomfortable silence filled the room but I refused to let it linger too long.
“Of course sir, I won’t let you down.” Mustering all the bravado within me, I mimicked his stance and looked him dead in the face. He nodded, shook my hand, and that was the end of my shift.
The night ride back to my apartment was a whirlwind of sketching and drafting. I was wired and my hands felt electric and the pencil etched out its markings on the sketchbook. The night at home was much the same, the TV running ads all night in the background as I worked. I fell asleep sometime in the early morning and would proceed to repeat this process numerous times over the weeks that followed. I wanted to show off something that would make my grandfather proud. He so loved Hawaii and all its intricacies, that was the most important thing he taught me. Love for this place and what makes it special. Time passed by slowly but the day soon came when I could finally begin.
As the sun was rising I lifted my brush and began to paint a somewhat intricate picture. I recall fondly “pāʻina” or dinner parties my grandfather would host. Those temperate days sitting by the beach relaxing with family were some of the greatest I have ever lived. There was nothing better to me. I painted this familiar scene, only instead with traditional Hawaiian figures. King Kamehameha sat at the center with a jovial expression. Then the brush turned to the finer details, Colorful Leis and yellow hibiscus flowers dotted along the ground with Albizia trees. Hours came and went and as the sun went down and my tired arms came to a halt. I looked upon what I had made and felt proud, it was as vibrant and colorful as I imagined in my head. Satisfied, I trekked back through the strips of beach and flat parking lots until I again reached my apartment. Collapsing on the bed, I fell asleep with cool waves of gratification washing over me.
At 6:30 AM I received a call from Langley that woke me up. Groggily, I stepped out of bed and picked up the phone, not sure entirely what to expect from him at such an early hour.
“Koa we need to talk.” He said matter-of-factly “I’ve gone to check on your mural and I feel you have misunderstood your job here. This is about celebrating Hawaii as it is now, not as it was. You’re just like Mel you know? So damn nostalgic.” I heard a small chuckle on the other end of the line as he continued. “While I’m impressed with your technical abilities as always I don’t feel I can keep the mural up. I do love it aesthetically though, it would make for a great greeting card!”
This news came as a bullet, striking my very core. It all came on so fast I couldn’t react with any eloquence. “Sir, I-”
“We appreciate your effort here but we’re putting someone else on the project. Goodnight Koa, I’ll see you at the office.”
I lurched over the edge of the bed feeling sickly and asked a myriad of questions, none of which I could answer. What had I misrepresented? What had I done wrong? When the time to go into work finally came, I couldn’t bear to begin the walk. I couldn’t stroll back in happily and finish stock paintings again. I needed to be something more, I knew I could be. I had to be.
In an anger-filled march, I returned to the mural and they had already begun rolling over the piece with bright white paint. In my dismay, I walked even further through the dried-up flower beds and cracked dirt to get a closer look. Then I saw it. The beginnings of a new painting already muddled in with the still-fresh work from the night before. It was a stand with smiling people lined up around the block, “Leis For Sale!” written at the entrance of a tiki bar.
Houston’s Watch
Unpublished Short Story
In the end, it didn’t matter. Gamblers rarely make it out of Vegas alive. Houston seldom defied expectation. It's an occurrence everyone should have anticipated, himself especially. The east coast could never hold him though, a simple life was never what he wanted. At least, that's what he told them all. Just skipping town and heading west to start anew. Everyone knew the truth though, they knew it damn well. He owed some shady characters a lot of money, got into debt real bad. Men like Lenny knew their marks well. This wasn’t a trip taken for pleasure, as much as ol’ Hou would have liked to believe it was. Why Vegas? Well, it's always felt quite obvious. Men of habit know few things, he just liked to follow what felt real to him. Houston loved to gamble. He gambled everything, his wallet, his accounts, his life. It was only a matter of time before he ran into an immovable obstacle, a problem he couldn’t weasel his way out of. Fate is a prison, and Houston was caught in its snare.
That yellow taxi drove up to the strip, it was just about midday. The cab driver foolishly asked for a tip, not knowing the caliber of man that he had just driven around.
“No thanks, but I like your outfit,” Houston smugly said, peering through his cheap aviators.
“People like you,” The cabbie began, “They get what’s coming to them.”
Ignoring the now-irrelevant taxi driver, Houston slinked away into the arid heat of Nevada. What a sight it was, the lights, the women, the money. It was as prevalent as oxygen, and lord knows he needed it just as much. The tallest building had a big fat poker chip on it, so he decided to go there first. Walking in from the sun-laden afternoon was an oasis of sorts. The sights intoxicated him even more than the ones outside had. My god, Houston thought, I’ve finally found what I’m looking for. Rows on rows of slot machines were ringing like church bells and it was time to worship. After purchasing some chips from the pretty, blonde cashier, they were set upon. Days could have passed for all he knew, time was just another commodity he felt he had lots of. Addiction was in full swing, just like back home. Only this time the scores were bigger, and the dopamine hits were too. Seven… another seven… holy-
“JACKPOT! JACKPOT! I WON, I WON!” Houston screamed triumphantly.
It was over, his problems melted away, mist in the sweltering Vegas day. He showed them all, something to shut them all up. Once and for all. Some attractive girls and a greasy casino executive came over to congratulate him and perhaps to see if he was lying. He wasn’t. One of the first truths he had told in a while if one had to guess. The wheel had finally turned Houston’s way it seems. A whirlwind of money was spent almost immediately. First, a gold-plated watch that had caught his eye. Pouncing on their prey almost immediately, the casino had brought out a massive tray filled to the brim with shiny things. Vapid trinkets a newly wealthy man could no longer resist. The first bit of green was plucked from his wallet and he latched the Rollex into place upon his wrist. It felt cold and somewhat unpleasant on the skin. Houston couldn’t have been happier though as he looked gleefully on the status symbol. Vegas was a city of promise by design, a city of splendor without purpose. This fit the tired man like a glove, he was so comfortable here.
As he woke up hours later in the high roller suite, watch still firmly clasped on tight, he looked out over the balcony. The few morning cars and weary strip travelers looked like little ants. He was above them all. Finally, as it should be. He would go down and march through as if it were his conquest. So brazen and bold. An emperor in his own mind. Untouchable.
Morning rolled on by as Houston engaged in a spending spree the likes of which the U.S government would have thought twice about. Each store along the strip heralded him like the king he thought he was. Vibrant and fanciful. He would talk and talk, feeling so self important. People were certainly listening, but only for what pertained to them.
“Sign here”
“Swipe there”
“Yes sir it looks wonderful on you”
It wasn’t long before Hoston was drunk. Already high on the “admiration” he was receiving from others, this made for an intoxicating combination. He truly was the perfect mark, and word was getting around about the portly man with the portly pocketbook. Hours melted away and so did the liquor. Little did he know his walls were coming down with them.
The orange sun hung low in the sky as Houston stumbled in some random direction, pride and style exuding from his new outfit. The alcohol permeated his breath, parting the crowds of people. This arrogance was a grand rouse that was fooling only himself, those familiar with the neon “paradise” could smell blood in the water. He was making waves far too fast and the pool was far too small. Meanwhile, an all too familiar band to Houston was approaching from the distance.
“Well well well, look what we have here boys. If it isn’t the ‘high roller’ himself” The loan sharks chuckled to themselves, gawking at their prey. “You’ve been making quite the stir around here, ya know?”
Hou’ whipped around and the breath fell out of him in an exasperated gasp.
“Hey Lenny, it's wild to see you around here!” Houston was trying to play it off, beads of sweat dripping down his brow. “Yeah, I guess you could say that I have.”
‘Save it Hou, I’ve heard enough out of you to last me a lifetime. I think there’s something you should be giving us since you're so well off and all”
“Pay up!” one of Lenny’s goons bluntly stated
“Now fellas, uh-, I uh-”
“You can’t pay, can you? You’ve pissed it all away”
“Not in the slightest, I’ve got it right here-” jokingly he threw up a middle finger, middle school humor still abound in his juvenile mind.
“But yeah, I’ll get it to you when I get it to you”
Lenny chuckled softly and his crew began to follow suit. It was an assured kind of laugh, a confident one.
“You know I could kill you right here? Right in the middle of the street and nobody would do a damn thing. You didn’t hold any sway back east, you think you do here?”
Houston’s blank stare was proof enough, Lenny needn’t go any further with his questioning and threats. Seeing they were serious and not letting him off, Houston was like a deer, helpless and at the mercy of its hunters. The group forcefully led him to the back of an alley near the outskirts of the strip to “discuss business”. He was never heard from again. A few imposing looking men walked out of a dark corner and nobody batted an eye. They all looked quite bored.
Lots of folks Houston was acquainted with still come by to ask about him. Where did he go? How’s he doing? Those who really know either don’t have the heart to say, or it's in their best interest if the whole affair was kept quiet. Houston’s a fool, it wouldn’t have gone in any other direction. He was always going to meet his end in some bad way because he just never knew when to quit. A few thousand miles wasn't gonna fix that. It all happened so quickly. One moment he was buying luxury cars and the next he was pulled off the street. Hubris doesn't show its consequences slowly. Vegas claimed another “victim” and not much changed, only the watch on Lenny's wrist did that day.
Sydney
Submitted in 2018-2019 Scholastic Awards
Todd clasped his guidebook tightly as he gleefully bolted through doors of the airport, taking in the aroma of the city for the first time. Ever since the first day he could think for himself, he dreamed of escaping the drudgery and dullness of his hometown. Australia’s exotic vibrancy drew many tourists, Including Todd. The danger of his planned exploits only provoked giddy excitement.
A plethora of thoughts bounced every which way in Todd’s head with him drawing ever nearer to the Sydney Opera House, a beautiful structure that he had hoped to visit before descending into the risk of the wildlife trail. The building’s brilliance seemed to resonate with him despite a lack of interest in opera. After observing the opera house itself, Todd began to survey the environment surrounding him. A massive group of Seagulls flocked and dove toward the tourists. All of the mangy birds seemed to be surveying the area for a scrap of food. Todd would have stayed near the house, but he was simply not captivated enough by mere seagulls.
He wanted new thrills, things he had yet to see in his short life. A brief period was spent on the beach, after which Todd strolled back to his hotel room, trying to take in all the unique sights and sounds of the city. Waking up, he went on his way immediately. Nothing on his jog to the nature trail seemed anything but exquisite. Though he had only been in the country for a day, he was as comfortable as a man who had spent 1,000 years in his stead, attaching so quickly to his idea of paradise. He was away from all his afflictions at home, and while they still held sway over a tiny sector of his consciousness, he seemed to be suppressing them well enough. Perhaps it was time to stop running and face the truth. He pondered this new line of thought before being interrupted by a vicious eagle at the mouth of the trail. Thankful for a distraction, he looked upon the eagle very closely. A small rabbit hopped from side to side on the trail attempting to evade it in dense shrubbery. This technique was no match for the ferocious dives of the wedge tailed beast. Hoisting its kill high in the air, it flew deeper into the desert, presumably hungry for more. If all wildlife encounters were as epic as this had been, the trail would have been well worth the steep price of admission. An intense evening of danger and wonder followed. It wasn’t 5 steps that went by without another encounter with an interesting animal. Snakes and goliath tarantulas that Todd would typically recoil from, only attracted him. From an outside perspective, he would seem like a man with a Deathwish.
The distant sunset was the perfect backdrop to his perfect day. Todd took a rest near a tree to watch the brilliant orange and purple sky, he had never witnessed something with such majesty. After the awe inspiring display, night began to fall and he noticed a struggling owl clinging to a tree branch. As Todd drew closer its injuries and faults became apparent. Its wing had a large gash, which severely limited its movement. With no way to accrue food, it cried out into nothingness, yearning for a remedy to its plight. Todd wanted to help, but there was nothing he could do, it was beyond his control. Watching this helpless owl did nothing for Todd aside from dampen his mood, so he moved on, and began meandering toward the resort. Between the trail and hotel lay nothing of substance, and with the sun completely faded, no scenery to admire. Todd was alone with his thoughts, something he had desperately hoped to avoid.
It was time, time to cease the suppression of his inner thoughts. He would confront his emotions, whether he chose to, or otherwise. Anger, confusion, and most prominently, a deep sadness permeated his mind. A disease that had skipped two generations now came for him, and what was he to do? His life would be tainted before he had even passed his prime. Only a week beforehand, he had received the devastating news that he, a mere 23 year old, had cancer, reaching far past its point of origin, plaguing the body. It could not be, it must not be, Todd thought. Since the announcement, he had kept anything relating to it tucked away, refusing to allow himself an outburst. Todd buried his true feelings under piles of distractions, that was, after all, the true purpose of this hastily planned trip. If visiting the city of his dreams could not make him forget, what could? This moment was a long time coming, try as he might, simply forgetting was, and never will be, possible. For hours, the floodgates of his mind were opened and he could not stop the ever-present flow of tears. He saw a raven perched atop a lamppost, overlooking and seemingly understanding his trauma. It stood alone, sulking. The raven was not brooding, sharing in the agony felt by Todd. After what felt like years Todd grasped himself. The few years he had must not be wasted in the ways of grief. Every part of him pleaded to stay chained to the ground, but he rose up. Todd had to find a new solution.
At sunrise, he stood at the shore and looked outward, allowing the waves to caress his legs. Todd took large breaths and engaged in deep thought. Even if it hurt, he must survive not by cowering, but by accepting his new unfortunate situation. A small white dove took flight from the docks and began to soar above the clouds. It was only then he realized that he needn’t find a solution. The answer was within himself and it was greater than any trip, more brilliant than any sunset. The infinite beauty of peace.