Kanani smelled pakalolo, what haoles liked to call reefer, muggles, pot, anything but its actual name. Locals had always chuckled at that. From the plantations to the towns, no one had minded a little paka—until the Military Government decided otherwise.

“Who the lolo that stole my pakalolo?” she joked. It was a favorite local saying.

Frankie laughed. He still had that strange chuckle, high-pitched and strangled as if he’d stuffed a little funny man down inside his throat.

“How you went get in here?” she said.

“I could say the same.”

“My house, I mean. All locked up.”

Frankie shook his belt and it jangled. He had a pouch holding a ring of keys, as well. “Miss Mae tell you about dis place?”

“Among others.” She looked around, as if someone else were in the room. “Dem army guys,” she whispered. “Hotel Street.”

“Okay.” Frankie turned on the radio, found a station playing haoleized Hawaiian melodies, probably KIPA out of Hilo Side.

“I was looking for you,” he said, losing his Pidgin suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Frankie said. “You want some?” He offered her his pakalolo. She took it and smoked. Coughed.

“What’s in your other pocket?” he said.

“Huh?” She glared downward as if discovering her pants down. “Oh, dat . . .”

She pulled out the pointy wad of pink paper, stood it on the little lamp table, and straightened out the spikey parts.

Frankie cocked his head. “An elephant?”

“Not! Dat one nēnē bird. Come on.”

“I guess I can see it. You Japanese always were lolo about paper.”

“Origami, da name. And I Hawaiian, just like you. Hey, why you no talk like one island boy no more?”

“You know why,” he said. “Same as you.” His face hardened now.

“All right, fine,” she said, dropping her Pidgin.

He sat back down, facing her, and blocked all light in the half of the room beyond. It made her want to stand up, but that wouldn’t look too good. She had to give him something or he wouldn’t leave.

“I came here looking for it,” she added.

“We are talking about gold, yeah? Yamashita kine. Golden Lily, all that.”

“Yep. Just like you. Why else would you be here?”

“Huh,” was all he said. But her confession seemed fine to him, especially with Miss Mae out of the picture. He didn’t say anything else for a while, though, and that started to worry her. He hummed a song but it wasn’t the one on the radio.

“I won’t lie,” she added. “I thought maybe I could get my little fill, and I’m on my way.”

“Where? The mainland? You? Don’t make me laugh.” Frankie added his strange chuckle.

She laughed back. “Stick out like one Molokai leper. You’re no better.”

“How you think you gonna get any booty out of here anyways? You need a truck. You need manpower. That takes arranging.”