Chapter 7: Striking A Deal

The vibe at Not Forgotten had gone from wild to chill. Bombay Boi had finished their set, a moment that had included Mahalo joining the band on stage. His dance moves won over everyone, including the band, but when they handed him the mic, two things became clear: he didn’t know the lyrics (which were in Hindi) and he couldn’t carry a tune. The lead singer had grabbed the mic back which hadn’t appeared to bother Mahalo. He’d continued to dance and pump up the audience, bringing the fun vibe in the club to a fever pitch. With Bombay Boi finished for the night, an indie band called The Broken Birds took over, their gentle sounds both beautiful and relaxing.

Krisha, the bride, and Jill, who had spent some of the evening dancing together, plopped onto a couch near the wall of windows that overlooked downtown Atlanta. “Tonight was epic,” said Krisha, taking off the Kikima shoes Jill had loaned her and letting them drop to the floor.

“Funny you should say that word, epic,” said Jill, lacing her fingers together and tucking them behind her head.

“Why?” asked Krisha.

Jill touched one index finger then another to her nose.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking my sobriety. When I’m tired I tend to act like I’m drunk and overshare.”

“Then I hope you’re tired,” said Krisha, stretching her legs and circling her ankles. “What’s with the word epic? Spill the tea.”

Jill chewed her lower lip as a smile snuck into her face. “Dylan and I went to high school together.”

“You were a couple,” said Krisha, trying to anticipate where Jill was heading.

“No, we were more like study buddies. We never kissed.”

“So he was uggo?”

Jill poked Krisha. “Tea? Uggo? You’re a doc not a teenager.”

“I pick up slang from my patients. But you’re avoiding the question.”
Jill scanned the room, making sure Dylan wasn’t close by. “Dylan was not uggo. He was cute-o.”

“Yeah, cute-o’s not a thing. I wouldn’t do that.”

Jill rolled her eyes. “He was cute, and I wanted him to ask me out, especially prom our senior year. I must have dropped a million hints, but the boy did nothing—no poster (I really wanted a poster!) and no candy.

“I got a poster,” said Krisha, fingering a length of her sari. “It said, “Give me Krisha Or Give Me Death.”

Jill screwed up her face. “Ew.”

“Yeah, Patrick was goth and patriotic. Sort of an odd mix. But we had fun, and when my makeup smudged he let me borrow his eyeliner. But Dylan seriously never did anything in high school to show he liked you?”

A waiter came by, placing two cups of steaming coffee on the little table in front of the couch. After thanking him and taking a sip, Jill was about to share what Dylan had done, his grand gesture at graduation. The words were ready to spill from her lips, but suddenly she held back. She couldn’t put her finger on it. Lots of people knew about the circus performers and the camel who had munched on potted plants as it frustrated its handler tried to keep it from going here, there, and everywhere. It had been a moment that had overwhelmed her, but now there was a sweetness to the memory, and not mentioning it felt like keeping it safe. “Let’s just say I could tell he liked me,” said Jill.

“But nothing happened, no sucking face in the backseat.”

“Nothing, and for six years we lost touch until running into each other the other day, literally—his beater Honda colliding with my fender.”

Krisha eyed Dylan from the across the club where he was talking with her husband, Mike. “Why would Dylan Duke drive a beater Honda?”

Jill shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

“Well, one thing is sure, he’s still crazy about you, no cap,” said Krisha, nudging Jill with her elbow.

“No cap?”

“It means for real.”

“You think so? How can you tell?” asked Jill, feeling butterflies begin to take flight in her stomach.

“He keeps looking over here with a puppy-dog look on his face.”

“So he looks like he wants to chew on my pant leg?”

Krisha rolled her eyes. “Very funny. Girl, got this guy hook, line, and sinker.”

Jill looked at Dylan, her heart beginning to gallop. “Hmm.”

“Hmm? That’s it? A multimillionaire wants to make you his BAE and all you got is hmm.”

“BAE?”

Krisha snapped. “Google it. But I think I get what your hmm. You don’t want to spoil what’s happening by talking about it just yet, which is fine. But tell me this, what are you attracted to more, his money or his good looks?”

“Yes,” said Jill, and the two women broke into giggles.

“How long againmis Dylan letting you experience the multimillionaire life?” asked Krisha.

“One week,” said Jill, stifling a yawn. Jill hadn’t danced so hard since college.

“One week!” cried Krisha, sitting up. “Then what are you doing attending my sham wedding? You should be out there, traveling the world. Ask for two weeks. I’m sure he’d do it.”

“I can’t. My boss would fire me.”

“Then go! Take advantage of the time you’ve got! He’s got a private plane, right?”

“He does.”

“Where do you want to go?” asked Krisha, clapping her hands. “This is so exciting! You could literally pick anywhere, do anything! What’s it going to be!”

Jill joined the clapping and for a moment the two ladies looked like a couple of hyped Family Feud contestants. “I want to go everywhere!” she cried, which was true. She had longed to travel but necessity had kept her from doing so. When her friends had toured Europe one summer during college, she had stayed behind to make money for the next semester. She was too practical to charge the expense. Her nursing school loans would be bad enough. So, instead of putting stamps in her passport, she had worked, watched reruns of Buffy The Vampire Slayer, and occasionally kept tabs on Dylan’s success.

“You don’t have time go everywhere,” said Krisha, pointing a finger at Jill. “Narrow it down.”

The late hour and endless possibilities the next week held combined to make Jill giddy, a rare thing. “I think my next move should be to buy a dozen Kikimas. They’re so pretty.”

“Do it!”

Jill reached down and slipped the shoes on, chewing her lip as she thought. “I totally would, but I’m always in scrubs and clogs. It would be a waste.”

Krisha put her hand in front of her like she was seeing an image. “They would look pretty on your shelf. For that alone you should get a dozen.”

“Which would only cost around 24k.”

“Exactly.”

“The fact that this seems reasonable, and that I want to tell you I love you—”

“I love you too,” said Krisha with a hiccup.
“lets me know it’s time for bed. I told you, I get tipsy when I’m tired.”

“I get tipsy when I’m tipsy, and I am most definitely tipsy.”

Jill reached out her hand and Krisha took it. “Well put.”

“But you can’t go yet,” said Krisha watching Dylan Duke watch them from a cross the club. “we haven’t finished brainstorming, and a certain multimillionaire is watching us.”

Jill glanced at Dylan who was listening to Michael, Krisha’s husband, pitch a video game idea. Maybe it was the late hour, but she thought Dylan looked like a British secret agent. It wouldn’t have surprised her if he had somehow acquired a British accent. Good evening, Jill, she could hear him say, I’d be quite delighted to ravish you. Jill blinked. First once, then again, and then again for good measure. Where had that thought come from? she asked herself as Mahalo squeezed in between them.

“Caruthers, why are you blushing?” he asked as a whiff of perspiration and cologne hit both ladies causing Jill to move away from Mahalo and Krisha to fan her nose. “Is it knowing that an epic kiss is ahead of you that’s got you a twitter?”

“What!” cried Krisha, slapping the couch.

Mahalo adjusted his man bun. “I walked out on the balcony and found Jill and Dylan about to mack down, no cap.”

“Seriously, you use no cap too?” asked Jill, which was ignored.

“You didn’t tell me this!” said Krisha, throwing a look at Jill that said, I thought we were better new acquaintances than that.

“I was getting to it,” said Jill, her voice a whine.

“You have to understand said Mahalo putting his hands behind his head to air out his pits.

“Yeah don’t do that,” said Krisha, guiding his hands back down

“You’re killing us,” said Jill, holding her nose.

Mahalo, unruffled, folded his arms. “What you have to understand, Krisha, is that this kiss has been building for a long time. Lots of back story, drama, suspense. It’s like the volcano I made for middle school science fair—this baby is ready to blow! Six years apart hasn’t cooled their chemistry. They are going to…May I?” he asked before taking a sip of Jill’s coffee.

“Sure, whatever,” she said.

Mahalo took a long sip. “They are going to suck face, the only question is where will it happen.”

 “You’re not just picking a tourist destination, you’re picking a backdrop for the most amazing kiss of your life!”

“She’s right,” said Mahalo, taking another sip of Jill’s coffee. “Where’s it going to be?”

“Bali!” suggested Krisha with a snap.

The butterflies in Jill’s stomach swarmed. “That would be amazing.”

“Hawaii,” suggested Mahalo.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii!”

“Then buy a bakers dozen of Kikimas and go to Hawaii!” suggested Krisha.

Mahalo bit his lip, assessing his old friend. “She doesn’t have that sparkle in her eye yet that she gets when she’s really excited.”

“When was the last time you saw that sparkle?”

Mahalo shrugged. “When you announced on social media that you got into nursing school.”

“Huh,” said Jill, sizing up her old friend who she had always took for being goofy. Maybe he was more astute than she realized.”

“Where is someplace you’ve dreamed about going?” asked Mahalo

Jill didn’t need to ponder the question. “Paris,” she said as her eyes started to sparkle.

Mahalo snapped. “That’s where you should go.”

Krisha and Jill looked at each other, mouths slack from wonder. “I’m going to Paris!”

“You’re going to Paris!”

Jill fanned her face. “Oh my gosh, I’m going to Paris. I’m going to Paris!”

“We’re going to Paris!” cried Mahalo, which landed pretty much the way him lifting his arms had.

“No, no, no,” said Krisha, shaking her head. “You’re not going.”

Mahalo reared his head back and wrinkled his brow like Krisha had just said something preposterous. “But this is going to epic.”

“It is,” said Krisha.

“So, I defs should be there.”

A knowing look passed through Jill and Krisha. “But you’re the plus awesome at my wedding.”

Mahalo rubbed his chin. “Fair point.”

“You’re needed here.”

Mahalo let out a long breath. “Geez. It’s like I’m that baby in the Bible.”

“I wouldn’t know,” said Krisha.

“You’re comparing yourself to baby Jesus?” asked Jill, confused and a little annoyed.

Mahalo shook his head. “No, the one that almost gets chopped in half because two ladies are clamoring for it.”

“Okay,” said Jill, though nothing like that was even close to happening.

“You asked to be the plus awesome at my Indian wedding. You can’t back out. What would Bombay Boi have been without you? I need you here.”

Mahalo chewed his lip. “True.”

Anxiety zapped Jill like a tiny jolt of electricity. If Mahalo stayed at Krisha’s wedding, it would be just be the two of them, herself and Dylan…and Jameson, probably Rubio, most of the style team, not to mention pilot and flight attendant. Wherever Dylan went, an entourage seemed to follow. Still, without Mahalo, things between them would feel more…intimate, which was great. She wanted things to get cozy, and she wanted that kiss, and for it to be epic. It was time to say goodbye to Mahalo.

“You should stay,” said Jill to Mahalo.

Mahalo stretched. “I will take that under advisement. But I’ve got to talk to my boy, Dylan. Ball Baby is about to drop, and you know that means, late-night panic sessions, tooling, retooling, tons of hand holding.”

“I’ve got it covered.”

Mahalo screwed up his face to one side. “Okay, I’ll stay, but first some tips.”

“About Paris?”

“No, the kiss. Start with the neck.”

“Mahalo!” cried Jill.

Krisha slapped Jill softly on the knee. “Let him finish.”

“Take your time. This kiss has been building since high school. And, and this is most important of all, before it happens, facetime me.”

“Facetime us,” said Krisha, her finger wiggling at herself then Mahalo.

Jill cocked an eyebrow and thought about pointing out what a buzzkill it would be to have them watch her epic kiss, but they were giving her such hopeful looks. Krisha even had her hands pressed together, resting just below her chin and her eyes half closed, as if making the whole thing a matter of prayer.

“I..will…take it under advisement,” said Jill, her words sounding like a question,  which was enough to get Krisha to move from praying to clapping.

“If you want, you could leave for Paris tonight. Dylan has the power to make it happen,” said Mahalo.

Jill snuggled deeper into the couch. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s a no for me to a quick Paris getaway. I’m tired and I’ve barely gotten to enjoy my massive suite at the The Ritz. We can leave tomorrow.”

Mahalo nodded. “Fair point.”

“And she needs to buy a dozen pair of Kikimas before she hits the road.

Jill pressed her lips together. “I’ve been thinking about that.”

“You want two dozen?” asked Krisha, sounding like she was ready to provide Jill with just that.

“No.” Jill straightened her legs and flexed her ankles to better admire her pair of Kikimas. “Of course, I would love a dozen of these.”

“It’s what mulitmillionaires do,” said Krisha.

Jill nodded. “But I’m wondering. It’s going to cost around 24k to splurge on Kikimas. What if instead I used that money to splurge on your children’s clinic.

Krisha knitted her brow, looking like Jill had just spoken gibberish. “What? No.”

“Hear me out,” said Jill, grabbing Krisha’s arm. “24k may not be enough to reopen you clinic, but it’s a start, and I’d rather buy that than twelve pairs of gloriously beautiful shoes.”

“That didn’t sound convincing,” said Krisha.

“I want your clinic to reopen.”

“I do too!” said Krisha, “but this is your week to indulge yourself.”

“So far she’s sort of bad at it,” said Mahalo to a nodding Krisha.

“Fine,” said Jill with a note of exasperation. “I get two more pairs of Kikimas, and the rest goes to the clinic, roughly 20k.”

Mahalo and Krisha looked at each other, weighing the proposal. The two nodded. “You got yourself a deal,” said Krisha, extending her hand to Jill.

“Excellent,” said Jill.

Jill stood to leave, wobbling a little as she rose to her feet. “I’m out,” said Jill though the party was far from over.

“Bye, Felicia,” said Krisha.

“Yeah, Bye Felicia,” said Mahalo.

Jill turned and pointed a finger at them. “Don’t get salty with me,” she said, making them laugh. Krisha wasn’t the only one with teen patients.