Read 03 - Three Odd Balls for Free Online

the stage.
    “The Hoochie Coochie Brothers!” he announced, and forks dropped all around the dining room. “Hal and Cal Coochie!” He pointed a menu-laden arm in their direction, and the Hoochie Coochies took the stage amid polite, if not enthusiastic, applause.
    For some reason I had expected short, young Hawaiian guys. But the brothers were even blonder than I, almost as old, and at least as tall as Wilson. Their size was altogether incongruous with the teeny-tiny instruments they held. They bowed to their audience, sang a little “Aloha” ditty, and then asked for requests.
    Everyone seemed stumped for ideas until my mother stood up. “How about Christmas carols?” she suggested.
    “Christmas carols it is!” Hal, or maybe it was Cal, exclaimed, and the brothers delved into an off-key rendition of “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.”
    When the Hoochie Coochies veered off onto a “Silver Bells” tangent, harmonizing about city sidewalks, Louise had a momentary spell of homesickness. “Ah, Manhattan,” she said. “I know it’s cold in December, but New York at Christmas is simply fantasti—”
    “New York?” Emi interrupted. “Oh, my God! Are you from New York?” She blinked her big brown eyes at Louise. “I’m dying to see New York City someday! To live there, even! Take the subway to work, jog in Central Park, shop in Soho.” She looked at Chris. “It’s my dream for when I graduate.”
    “And what a fantastical dream it is!” Louise agreed and commenced an involved and detailed monologue on the joys of living in New York, especially the joys of shopping in New York.
    “When you get there, go straight to Soho,” she said. “It absolutely must, must, must be your first stop! The shoes? Oh, Babe!” She fanned herself with one of the little gold umbrellas that were accumulating on the table. “Beyond fantastical, I tell you! I myself could never live anywhere else. I mean, where would I shop?” Louise glanced around the table for alternatives, but none of us had any suggestions.
    Wilson cleared his throat. “Speaking of shopping,” he said, and I looked up from my mango brulee. Surely the man had not consumed enough pink drinks to care about designer shoes?
    “Is Shynomore Shirt Shop the best place to get more of these?” he asked Emi and tapped on his chest. “That’s what Buster says.”
    The poor girl somehow managed to tear her thoughts away from Manhattan long enough to regard Wilson’s fuchsia-infused shirt. “Shynomore’s the place,” she said with only the slightest frown. “It’s just down the beach. It’s open twenty-four hours a day.”
    “How convenient,” I mumbled as the Hoochie Coochie Brothers gave up on Christmas and commenced singing a song about coconuts. I tilted my head and double-checked. Yep. Coconuts.
    Chris excused himself and Emi, and said he’d be walking her home.
    “ My South Pacific Paramour !” Louise exclaimed over the coconut chorus, and the whole restaurant turned to stare. Louise didn’t notice, however, since she was busy getting my mother to her feet. “We need to be plotting some more complications, Tessie!”
    “Let’s put our thinking caps on and find a name for the pirate-villain person,” Mother suggested as they tottered off toward the bar.
    Wilson and I watched in dismay.
    “They’re great friends,” I explained. “Ever since I signed my first book contract, they’ve been conspiring on ways to land me more bestsellers.”
    “They’re a little scary.”
    I pointed to his shirt. “Almost as scary as you wanting more of those.”
    He grinned. “Take a walk with me?”
    ***
    A tempest is what Adelé Nightingale would call it. Later that night it poured. Jetlagged and wide awake, I lay in bed and listened to the wind howl and the rain beat down on the roof of Paradise. I kept listening and could even hear the waves crashing on the shore in the distance.
    Jetlag never felt so good, I thought to myself and snuggled a little