Mele Kalikimaka Mr Walker Read Free Page B

giving him the tourist runaround Norton didn’t know and the driver definitely wasn’t a member of the Hawaiian debating team. It wasn’t until they came into some kind of downtown area full of stores and highrises that he finally spoke.
    â€˜I’ll take you past all the decorations.’
    â€˜Yeah, righto,’ grunted Norton, half wondering what the driver was on about.
    They merged onto a flat, wide road with trees and more highrises when suddenly the whole place lit up as if covered with millions of fireflies. Every tree, pole and building was covered with rows and rows of tiny multicoloured lights. They looked not only spectacular as they glowed quietly in the dark but absolutely beautiful. Spread right across one high building in huge red neon letters was written ‘Mele Kalikimaka’.
    â€˜What’s that mean?’ pointed Les
    â€˜Merry Christmas,’ replied the driver.
    â€˜Oh yeah. Right,’ answered Les, trying to hide both his ignorance and the fact that he’d clean forgotten it was almost Christmas. ‘Well, Merry Christmas to you, mate.’
    â€˜Thanks. I thought you’d appreciate the decorations.’
    The light rain eased off and the taxi finally eased in with the other cars onto Kalakau Avenue, a wide road that ran one way towards Diamond Head. Now it was car rentals, restaurants, traffic lights and nonstop highrise hotels with shopping arcades underneath. Norton was somehow reminded of Surfers Paradise. The traffic was fairly solid and every now and again a blue and white police car would drift in amongst the other cars and taxis. Les got a glimpse of darkened ocean on his right, what looked like a police station, then the name of his hotel next to another one-way street on his left. The driver took the next on the left, went round a fairly big block, back into the one-way street, then pulled up in the driveway of a typical monster American hotel chain with ‘Regency Hotel’ above and a parking area directly across the road.
    Les took his bags and got out, gave the driver a twenty and briefly watched him motor off. There was no lei, no red carpet, no girl in a grass skirt with a ukulele. Not even a porter in a uniform. Norton gripped his bags and trudged up a small flight of stairs into the foyer, where he noticed it was around one in the morning and he’d forgotten to set his watch. He did that while he waited for the girl in a grey and pink uniform to finish whatever she was doing so he could book in. The hotel appeared nice enough. More Christmas decorations around a fountain and garden next to a closed bar with a small stage. There were shops around the lobby and an arcade with more shops sloped down towards what Les surmised must be the ocean side of the hotel. The girl looked Japanese, spoke Americanlike a newsreader for CNN, then blinked as Les placed his documents on the counter and tried to explain in good old Australian about his booking. Then he eased back into second gear and the girl checked everything bar the size of Norton’s wozzer while she clicked away at a computer and did her best to give the impression that she was looking forward to staying up all night listening to tourists, especially almost incomprehensible Australians. But there was no great drama, Les got his key, half a smile, and was pointed towards the arcade that led down to the lifts. Aloha, now piss off. You’ve got bugger-all luggage and you’re a big enough Aussie to make it without a porter.
    The arcade led down past more shops and a car rental into another foyer facing a flowered rockery and fountain with the hotel complex towering up around it. The six lifts were tucked away to the left, past a couple of tired-looking security guards in blue uniforms who gave Les a once up and down as he trudged by. It was quiet and apart from one or two Japanese couples in shorts there was no one around. The lift at the end was waiting, Les stepped inside