“What do you feel like tonight?” Scotty asks me.
“I have no idea.”
“It’s mostly island food, but if you want something American, we can go to the burger bar.”
Truth be told, I haven’t been to any of the restaurants here at the colony. I’ve either ordered room service or had food delivered beachside when I left the room to attend a class. Now, I’m a little freaked.
“A burger’s fine.”
“A burger it is, then.” We step up to the burger bar. It’s not a bar so much as a sit-down place with tables. All the eateries here at the colony are outdoor, covered in thatch roofing, of course, in case of rain, which sometimes occurs in the afternoons. Still, it’s always so warm that having no walls doesn’t matter.
A scantily clad hostess takes us to a table for two. “Your server will be with you in a minute.”
“What’s your pleasure?” Scotty picks up the menu on the side of the table.
“Just a basic burger.”
“Cheese?”
“No. I’m one of those weird people who doesn’t like cheese on a burger.” True story. It takes away from the flavor of the meat, in my opinion.
“Heathen!” He smiles.
“Hey, Scotty.” A nice-looking man in an island print shirt—this one yellow with tropical flowers, and even louder than Scotty’s—and surf shorts struts up. “Who’s your friend?”
“Hey, Nemo. This is Emily.”
“You an artist?” Nemo asks.
I nod. “I try to be.”
“Welcome. When did you arrive?”
“Four days ago.”
“Really? Most people from the states can’t wait to try the burgers here.”
I have no idea what to say, so I say nothing.
“I’ll have the usual,” Scotty says, nodding to me.
“What’s the usual?” I ask.
Nemo laughs. “You don’t want to know!”
I raise my eyebrows at Scotty.
“The staff makes fun of me. It’s a double, medium rare, with horseradish cheddar, green chili sauce, and a fried egg.”
“Ugh.” I twist my lips into a grimace.
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” Scotty laughs.
“I don’t do eggs,” I tell him. “They’re gross.”
“That’s it.” Scotty shakes his head with another smile. “It’s over between us.”
It’s a joke, I know, but still warmth creeps to my cheeks. I didn’t come here to have a fling. I came here to…
God. So don’t want to think about that at the moment.
“I’ll have a single, medium, with lettuce, tomato, and pickle.”
“One basic American, sans cheese.” Nemo scribbles on his pad.
“That’s me,” I say. “Just a basic American.”
“Pretty girl”—Scotty smiles—“there’s nothing basic about you that I can see.”
Basic. Such an innocuous word. What I wouldn’t give to actually be a basic American at the moment. Just another girl no one notices.
Invisible.
Invisibility has its perks.
“So here we are,” Scotty says, after Nemo leaves, “one Scotty and one basic American.”
“Your burger is called the Scotty?”
“Sure is. No one else orders it.”
“Shocking.” I take a drink of the water Nemo left for us.
He laughs.
“So the burger you invented has a name, but your special drink doesn’t?”
“Yup.”
“That makes no sense at all.”
“Just never found the right name,” he says, “and now I know why. You were meant to name it, pretty girl.”
I swallow another drink of water.
Feelings bubble inside me. Feelings I don’t want to have. I came here to escape. To be invisible. The last thing I need is to start down this road.
Scotty’s probably just being nice. He’s a bartender on a tropical island, for God’s sake. He probably beds someone new each week. Each day, even.
I clear my throat. “How long have you been tending bar?”
“Here? Just since the colony opened a few months ago. Before that I was at a resort on Fiji.”
“And you’re from Honolulu?”
He nods. “Born and raised. My mom’s a native, and my dad’s a fighter pilot from LA.”
LA. I don’t mean to react, but my facial muscles tighten.
“Where are you from, pretty girl?”
“Portland,” I lie. I don’t want anyone to know I’m from LA. I’ve escaped LA, at least for now.
“Portland, Oregon?”
“You know another one?”
He laughs. “No.”
“Yes. Portland, Oregon.”
“Tell me about the Pacific Northwest. I’ve only been to California. And to Florida once when I was a kid.”
“You didn’t travel much outside the islands?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. I’m an island boy through and through. We traveled to Cali once in a blue moon to see my dad’s folks, but mostly they came to us. People love to visit Hawaii, for some reason.”
“I can’t imagine why.” Especially if all the men look like him.
“Big tourist trap if you ask me. Once you do Diamond Head and the Pearl Harbor thing, there’s not much to do except lounge on the beach.”
“I think that’s probably the point,” I say.
“I suppose. When you grow up there, it’s not nearly as exciting.”
“Really? If that’s the case, why are you working on another beach?”
He laughs. Really laughs this time, like I’ve just said something hilarious during a standup routine.
“You got me, pretty girl. I’m a beach bum through and through.”
“So you can’t fault others for wanting just a taste of that life, then.”
“I don’t. It’s just… I don’t know. Every once in a while I wonder if there’s more out there for me, you know?”
“Why bartending?” I ask.
“Why not?”
I shake my head and swallow another drink of water. “Are you ever serious about anything?”
“Sure I am. I seriously think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve seen since I got here. And this is a tropical island, pretty girl. I may have only been here for a few months, but gorgeous women are at a premium.”
“At an art colony?”
“Sure. Some of the artists. And the women who work here. I swear Roy Wolfe only hired good-looking people.”
“I think you just gave yourself a huge compliment,” I can’t help saying.
“I’m talking about the female population,” he says, “but hey, if the shoe fits.”
I laugh. Truly laugh.
And I realize Keanu Scotty Scott is the first person who’s made me do that in…how long?
A long time.
A long, long time.