Mahu Vice Read Free Page B

“I’d see other guys naked and I’d start to think about touching them, doing things with them. I knew it wasn’t what I was supposed to feel, though, so I compensated by dating girls.” I shrugged. “I was lucky, because the girls liked me, and I never…you know…had trouble.”
    I sipped some wine, and he waited. “And then there was this case, a couple of years ago. A bust that went bad, and my adrenaline was running like crazy, and I suddenly thought, ‘Is this the way I want to live? If I died today, would I feel like I’d lived the life I was supposed to?’”
    He smiled. “We all have to come to that decision. For me, I was in medical school.” He told me a long story about a homophobic professor, and how that experience had spurred him to come out. He poured the last of the wine, and we finished it up over dessert. He said, “I’d like to see you again, Kimo, but my schedule gets crazy starting Monday. I’m going to nights, and I’m supervising a new crop of residents, so I won’t be able to get away for dinner.”
    “That’s a bummer,” I said. “Tomorrow’s my last night shift, and then I have two days off before I switch to days.”
    I licked my lips, and looked at him with raised eyebrows. In my past experience, this was the point when we figured out whose place to head to. But I hadn’t gotten much of a sex vibe from him and so I wasn’t sure what would happen next. I stuck my leg out and made contact with his.
    “I don’t have sex on the first date,” Phil said, answering my unasked question. “I’ve found in the past that it doesn’t lead to second dates. And I’d like a second date with you.”
    “I’d like one with you, too,” I said, smiling, and meant it.
    “I’ve got your number,” he said, standing up. “I’ll call when I have a day off.”
    “That would be great.” We walked out to the parking lot together. In the distance, a street performer was imitating Keali’i Reichel in a reedy tenor. Maybe I wasn’t going to sleep with Dr. Phil, but I certainly was going to kiss him; if he couldn’t kiss, then there wasn’t much point in a second date. In the shadow of my truck, I leaned down a bit and kissed his lips lightly.
    He kissed back, and it was pretty good. Fireworks didn’t go off and my heart didn’t race, but it felt nice to chase a little romance. Then he backed off and said, “See you soon—hopefully not in a professional capacity.”
    I slept in on Sunday morning, then spent a couple of hours in the surf off Diamond Head. I started my shift at eleven that night, and almost immediately my cell phone rang. When I saw it was Lui’s number I got scared.
    My father had been in declining health, getting a new heart valve and taking a host of pills, and I was always worried that the next news about him would be bad.
    “What’s up, brah?” I asked. “Mom and Dad okay?”
    “They’re all right, but shook up. You know Dad’s favorite center, the one on Waialae Avenue? It’s on fire. He and Mom are freaking out.”
    I knew my dad had a sentimental attachment to that center, even though he didn’t own it anymore. “I was just there yesterday.”
    “Mom and Dad are heading over, and so am I. Can you get up there, too?”
    “See you there.” I told my new partner, Ray Donne, where I was going, and drove my truck up to St. Louis Heights.
    By the time I arrived, the flames had been doused everywhere except the acupuncture clinic at the far end from Tico’s salon. A single fire engine remained on Waialae Avenue, and bright arc lights illuminated the scene. The long, one-story building was now just a skeleton, and the air was filled with the acrid smell of burnt light bulbs, drywall, electrical wiring, and plastic.
    My parents stood at one side, supported by Lui’s wife Liliha. All of them looked like they’d dressed hurriedly, my father in sweatpants and a UH T-shirt, my mother in a housecoat. Even Liliha, who never appears in public without