Aloha's End Chapter 36 Momi Looks Under The Hood

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Aloha’s End
By Michael F. Zangari
© 2007 With All Rights Reserved

Chapter 36
Momi looks under the hood

Momi looks up from her computer screen at the hotel’s main desk.
The cowboy hat seems to float across the room to her.
True West still has on his wool burnoose. The hood is up shadowing his face.
The hat is on his head on top of the hood.
It floats towards the on desk like a gently thrown Frisbee.
“Howdy Momi”
Momi goes back to the computer screen, her fingers tapping the keys rhythmically.
Every so often she looks up then looks down again.
“A little late for the beach, eh?” she says.
True West pushes the hood back a little so he can see her face. “It’s not a beach robe” he says. It’s a monk’s robe.”
“There should be a key that dots the “I” she says back to him, finishing up the order she is typing.
She takes a deep breath and looks up at him.
He’s cute.
At least the eyes peering from the shadows are.
If cute covers it.
His eyes hide in the shadows and glow out at her, like someone switched them on and turned them down to the lowest level. They are night light eyes in a sea shell, translucent and warm.
He’s been drinking a little. A big old purple bottle of the Monk’s Moonshine Holy Vine.
“You look like cowboy death” she says. “All you need is a sickle and a six gun.”
Momi looks up at him.
He’s still there in the hood and hat.
“There is a dark side of you that scares me” she says, looking down. “It scares me very much.”
“I’m just a complicated man” he says, “trying to be simple.”
Momi squints her eyes at him.
“Yes” she says. She admires his words and his ways.
She likes the deepness of his voice.
It seems to echo out of the hood.
She imagines her face disappearing into that hood for a kiss on the ripe plums of his lips, sucking them softly for the juice.
But that would be forward and fresh of her, to assume kiss when they are so newly acquainted. She likes biting the fruit when it feels ripe. She is that way.
Horny.
Momi brings the braid of her oiled hair over her breast shyly.
She looks under the hood.
The nose is out now, the eyes hanging back in darkness.
The lips dominate.
He has a nice, little boy pout on.
“Momi” he says, “Let me ask you something. It’s about the Duck.”
Momi looks down again.
She gets sad.
“Don’t speak of the Duck” she says.
“No really” says True West.
“Its bad luck to talk Duck” says Momi.
She knocks on the desk.
“What they are doing to him could be done to us.” She says.
She looks down again.
“But I speak out of place” she says. “To speak of politics at the courtesy counter is inhospitable” she says.” It is ungracious and unwelcoming, especially when it of such a personal nature.”
“Feel free to speak” says True West. “God knows I can’t. Everything is coming out jellified.”
He looks at her again, pulling the hood just far enough back so she can see the glitter in his eyes.
“They say it is the endorphins in the monk’s feet that give the Moonshine wine its kicker. They do a lot of yoga and say a triple Rosary bead before stomping the grapes with “Gloria” on the CD player. They say nerve endings of the feet are as pliable and supple as the veins in the purple of the grape flesh.”
True West goes for poetic.
The slur that falls off the ends of his words are as warm and frothy as the wine keg wine.
Momi thinks about surfer feet and getting them rubbed on, Lomi style.
True West’s has big hands. He can be trained.
She plays with her braid, twisting it, smoothing it, tugging on it.
True West brings a half bottle of wine out of his sleeve.
“This is a gift for you” he says.
Momi jumps a little as the bottle bottom hits the desk and sloshes a little in the bottle.
True West eyebrows arch into the top of the hood.
She looks down.
Then up again quickly.
She shakes her head and hustles the bottle under the desk.
“No hooch, eh? I’m working here.” She says, regaining herself.
“Duck” says True West.
She does, some primal influence working on her.
It is bad luck.
“I’m going to Pahenuinui this weekend to spend some time with his family.” He says.
She blanches a little.
“The west side of the island is a little rough” she says. “You know the AAA trip manual has said for years that you should be careful when you go there. It’s not Waikiki. I won’t be there to tell you where to go.”
“I’m not worried about it. I hear it’s great in the country. Great beaches. Nice people. Good golfing.”
“Of course you golf” she said.
She imagines him in a polo shirt with a little whale on it. Spouting.
He probably has the perfect grace and style that most celebrities have when they play the game.
Like it has been choreographed by ballerinas on tippy toe.
She can see him whacking a ball with big arm and chest muscles taunt and sweating.
She can hear his big, bass voice calling “fore” to his Korean Caddy as the ball whips and slices into the green green green of the course. It bounces and clinks the pole.
The hole is as dark as his hood over his face.
The ball falls in.
“I been known to shoot a few” he says. “I like bubble ball better.”
“Surf” she says. “You are in Hawaii near the best beaches on the island.”
“You know I will” he says.
He thinks of Mimi’s compact form in her bikini riding her board in with strong legs and thighs.
She was beautiful and sleek. Like a Hawaiian Brown Dolphin.
“I was wondering what to bring with me to the house” he said. “Is it an insult to bring groceries?”
He asks.
Momi thinks about it. “Duck feeds everyone. He is like an Italian mother. Z girl will appreciate it. She supports the family.”
Momi puts her hand on the bottle under the desk like it is a throttle of a yacht.
“Done” say True West.
“Go shopping with them and meet local people” she says. “You’ll have a better time then shopping the little stores around here.”
She looks down again.
“Perhaps you find me forward”
True West smiles at her.
“I’m having a hard time finding you at all in this hood” he says.
Momi looks for his eyes and finds wool instead.
She feels the heat come again.
He makes her ovulate with those eyes and teeth of his.
“It’s good to get out of Waikiki” she says.
True West knows it’s true.
“I’m excited” he says.
Momi feels the steam of the moment hoot like a tea kettle on the stove.
She puts her hand on his chest and pushes him back playfully.
“Go West, young West” she says. “Only good times out there.”
True West goes dark again.
“Someone is trying to kill them” he says.
“They haven’t done it yet” she says. “Better watch your backside though. We have a surf date on Sunday.”
True West remembers it and sparkles plenty.
“Yeah” he says. “I’ll make a point of surviving for you.”
“You better” she said. I’m giving up time with my Tu Tu.
“You don’t have to do that” says. True West.
“Tu Tu will give you half” she says.
True West pushes back his hood.
“I’ll take it” he says.
“I knew you would” says Momi. “You are that way.”