tricks on the avenue. It was the only way she could possibly come up with the money she needed for tuition, and she wanted out of her house in the worst way, so she needed rent money as well. She had confided a great deal before they got to his place. When she'd first laid eyes on him, a failure and a dropout in her eyes, she hadn't wanted anything to do with him, but then he wore her down with his attentions, returning nightly to shower her with high praise, telling her that she did not need to prostitute herself, that if she came to live with him, he could take care of her and defray the costs of her tuition as well, that he was the answer to all her prayers. Remembering how she loved poetry, he reminded her of the book of Shakespearean sonnets that had belonged to his mother, which he'd given her.
He pressed her, begged, pleaded, not for her services, but for her… saying he was lonely and that he could free her of the streets, if only she would just be his. This offer gave her pause, but at first she still remained recalcitrant, saying she had no usual price, and that she was no whore. After five weeks of this, he threatened her with exposure to her parents, whom he'd met once when she'd brought him home with another friend. Then he begged her apology for being so low to even suggest such blackmail.
She hadn't actually wanted to go with him that night, but when he grabbed her and she felt the strength in his arms as he forced her into his car, his grip caused her to relent, to in fact freeze for a moment.
She let out a little cry and said, “All right… all right, you don't have to get rough. Damn it, Lopaka, look, you've brought up a bruise. If you're going to get rough, I'll never speak to you again.”
He apologized. “Once you see how nice my place is, and once you have a littlepakalolo with me, you'll know you're in heaven. You'll never have to work the street again, I swear.”
“ How're you going to do that? Pay for me every night? And what about Paniolo?”
'To hell with that bastard. One day, I'll cut his throat.” He had half expected her to leap from the car before he could pull away from the curb, but she seemed to have resigned herself by then. Perhaps she liked the idea of his coming to her “rescue,” or the thought of his slitting Paniolo's throat. Either way, that night he lived up to his promise: She never again had to return to the streets. Now she was with all the previous Kelias and with Ku, the great god of the seas, the winds, the fire and all things.
As always, his mind wanders back to Kelia. She was his wife, and they had met in bustling, busy Lahaina on Maui. Both of them had aspirations to go to Honolulu and the University of Hawaii, but neither had enough money at the time. They talked freely with one another and found much in common, and soon they made a pact that somehow, together, they would one day make it to Honolulu and the university.
Kelia had sacrificed so much for him, working and saving, and while their sex life was unfulfilling-due his inability to perform without some type of sadism involved-they managed to maintain the relationship.
Kelia was good for him, never judgmental, always supportive, never angry or upset or afraid of him. Soon she was even allowing some sadism to be played out on her for the sake of their relationship. She was the first and only woman to understand that his craving was a compulsion. She pretended to enjoy it, the humiliation he heaped on her, but her love for him was no pretense, not at first anyway. Then he found her with another man.
All the memories of childhood flooded back in on him, the memories of torment and the inadequacies he had felt all his life. Unable to cope, he locked her in a closet, her hands and feet tied, her eyes blindfolded, for a day and a night before he went to her with one of the many swords he kept in the house, fully intending to do to her what he'd done to other women who had hurt him.
He removed her blindfold, wanting her to see his anger. He slapped her repeatedly and brandished the long blade, slicing parts of her clothing while telling her how he had killed the little girl named Alaya in his village so many years before, and now the disappearances of young native women reported on the Island of Maui were due to him.
He watched her squirm against the cold touch of the blade, and he felt himself becoming sexually aroused. She pleaded, struggled against him and this only made him harder and hotter, and he ejaculated into his pants, and he grabbed her roughly by her wild black hair and shoved her face into the growing wet spot, his blade raised above the soft nape of the neck, prepared now to fall.
But at the last he stopped him self, unable to punish her further fearful of what the sight of her blood would do to him. He knew that if he drew the least blood, he would revel in spilling all hei blood.
He instead loosened her bonds, kicked her hard, and ordered hei to get away from him. She didn't need to be told a second time She tore from the house with the shredded clothing on her back He never saw or heard from her ever again-except in his fantasies, when he finds her again on a street comer in Waikiki.
And tonight Lopaka's eye falls on the lovely, little sales clerk Hiilani as she steps from the brightly lit store to wait outside foi her boyfriend to arrive and pick her up. But no luck for her mean; much luck for him; his patience is rewarded, for now she's goinj straight for the bus stop. There are some others at the stop, but thi «does not deter him.
“ Ho, Hiilani, hi!” He startles her from behind, but she laughs a her own fright, her eyes sparkling, trusting and smiling. “Lopaka? Whatchu doing here?” she asks coyly as he smiles back, displaying his crooked front teeth.
“ I tol' you, I come fo' you.” Lopaka falls easily into pidgin English to further put his prey at ease.
“ But I gotta go home.”
“ To dat lazy boyfriend? He no can bother to pick you up, even with a killer running round da island, killing girls who look like you?”
“ All of the girls didn't look like me. I saw the papers.”
“ They were all like you,” he disagreed.
She shook her head, not wanting to hear this.
“ I mean all of dem was Polynesian girls with long, dark hair like yours, and beautiful eyes like yours, and all about your age. Dat's why I'm frightened fo' you, and I will happily drive you home.”
She considered her options: an hour on a wretchedly smelly old bus without shocks, or Lopaka's kind offer. His smile is handsome, his eyes are a blue volcanic rock with a hint of shining mystery lurking there; promise and danger all rolled into one, she thinks.
“ I… I don't know, Lopaka.”
“ Please. I wanna do dis for you, Hiilani.”
“ But my boyfriend. He's a hothead, he's Samoan.”
“ Don't a bit worry me. I carry a weapon fo' protection.”
“ A weapon?” She is instantly curious.
“ Fo' protection only. Can't be too careful nowadays. I've got”-he hesitates, then whispers in her ear-”several knifes, swords even, some ceremonial ones but others quite useful, some Jap stickers.” Then he whispers, “I've also got some French and Colombian stuff, if you get me, some good smack, if you like- get high? I can make it happen fo' you, babe.”
“ No, no… I don't do dat kine stuff.”
He shrugs. “I don't either,” he lied, “but I keep it round fo', you know, my aikanes.”
“ Here come my bus,” she says. “I betta say good night.”
“ Why're you afraid of me, Hiilani?”
“ Afraid?”
“ Yes.”
“ I'm not.”
“ Den why you no come wit' me?” He begins to whisper, seeing nearby a curiously large, wide-shouldered white woman with a lantern jaw listening intently to their conversation. “I'm not, really. I just don't wan-no problem with my boyfriend, you know?” she says.
Lopaka at first gently presses her in their native tongue, and then begins an insistent tugging on her arm, trying to lead her away from the stop. He pleads almost childishly for her to come away with him, saying that she'd be surprised at what he could show her.
“ She said no, fella!” The surprisingly gruff voice, coming as it does from the heavyset white woman beside them, shocks Lopaka, as does the big woman's burrowing, searching eyes.
“ What?” he asks without thinking.
“ So buzz off,” replies the old lady.
“ No, please.” Hiilani quickly intervenes. “All right, Lopaka. I go with you, but you put me out a block from where I live and no argument?”
