Teacher's Pet

"Creative differences? Who was he? Like, their John Lennon?"

"He didn't like the direction the major label was taking band's music. Ever heard their stuff?"

"Nope. That Nate guy sounds like a loser," I said. The bartender kept looking at me. Telling him to fuck off would be the worst thing to throw him off my scent. You didn't want fans saying they met you, and you were a douche. I kept my head down, drinking my Coke.

"You know. You sort of sound like him, too," the guy said. I swore quietly. He knew. I looked at him.

"Did you like the label or independent stuff better?" I asked. The guy laughed. I hoped he’d say independent.

"I knew it was you. Where are you heading?"

"Hawai'i."

"Vacation?"

"Yep."

"Alone?" he asked. Too many questions. I was just about to answer him when I heard my boarding call. Saved by the bell.

"Yeah. Alone. In fact, I think I need to go get on that plane," I said, trying to discourage him.

"Before you go, could you sign this for me?" he asked, sliding a notebook over. I scribbled my autograph down and gave his notepad back. I finished the soda and got up, leaving to finally get on the plane.

Maybe it was a good thing I’d gotten a Coke. If I’d been on anything stronger, I would have told him anything. Everything he asked. Why I was going to Hawai’i, why we had actually split, the name of the upcoming album where I had had no creative input. I needed to get out of there.

Ten minutes later, I was on the plane. I'd gotten a first class ticket, but as soon as I was in my seat, I wished I'd bought the entire first class cabin out.

I was coming down. I was about to be in this flying tin can for like eight hours. Fuck. Next time, I was flying private — no fucking excuses. Nobody would ask me shit if I got my kit out and shot up at ten thousand feet if I was flying private. My kit was in my checked bag. I was taking this flight sober, unless I could drink.

What the fuck, Nate, I thought. What kind of loser can't stay clean for ten hours? I was already thinking about when I could get high again, and we hadn't even left the ground. I'd gotten high just two hours ago in the parking lot. It was the perfect opportunity to just stop and be normal for one day, and I hadn't been able to do it.

How much longer? How much fucking longer? What would it take? Did I have to die before I stopped doing this shit? I sighed. At least then I wouldn't have the choice to shoot up again.

This was about to be a long-ass flight.

I zoned out as the pilot and cabin crew made their announcements. Emergency exits are here, here, and here. Destination is Lanai Airport. Blah, blah, blah. I put my headphones on and turned on some music. I felt the plane start to move. Eight hours, and I'd be in paradise. Hula dancers sucking my dick. Palm trees and sunshine. In eight hours, I could forget everything that had happened today.

Chapter Two

Abby

There weren't a lot of things I could complain about living in Lanai. Because of working at the Four Seasons, I lived near the hotel on the southern part of the island. Yeah, my backyard was the beach, but I sort of wished I lived somewhere I could watch the sun come up over the ocean.

I could never really stay asleep once dawn started to break, even before I moved to Lanai. That meant the day had begun, and I never wanted to miss seeing it start. Every minute you were asleep meant you were missing something. How could you live life to the fullest laying on your back?

I got out of bed, throwing my light blanket off. Soon, the nights would get too hot to sleep under it. I pushed my windows open to let the earliest rays of sunshine inside. I loved summer. It was Hawai’i, so summer was basically the only season we had, but when it was summer, the sun was in the sky before six in the morning.

I was up early every day, but summer was also the five months out of the year that I worked at the hotel, so being a morning person actually came in handy. It was still early summer, but the hotel was completely booked up through the peak season already. I relished the quieter days we had at work before it flooded with tourists, but meeting new, interesting people every day was probably the best part of the job. The hotel had already started filling up.

I had quite a bit of time before I had to be at work, as usual. I washed the dishes I had forgotten to do the night before in my small kitchen before wondering what I was going to have for breakfast.

When I was working, I got food at the hotel during my shift. My fridge was miserably bare. There was some fruit in there and some milk I was pretty sure I was about to run out of. I lived alone; it wasn't like I was putting a family meal together every night. That watermelon looked good, though.

I shut the door, deciding to eat after I'd pulled the place together a little. It was a small cabin with the rear porch facing Hulopoe Beach. It was technically on land owned by the hotel, but rent was manageable since I worked there. It was convenient because work was only a fifteen minute walk away.

It was perfect. There were no walls separating the kitchen, living area, and bedroom. I'd gotten a little crafty and put up these translucent white curtains that I could close to separate the living and sleeping areas, but they were mostly just decorative.

There was no television, and I had one couch and an armchair. I had found the furniture there, left behind by whoever had lived in the house before me, and hadn't wanted to replace it. It was made of this light wood that looked like driftwood picked up off the beach. Against the wall, I had a desk where my laptop was. I attended college classes online when I wasn’t working.