She sprung off the chaise, slipped her feet into Oriental house slippers, and planted herself in the middle of the room.

Selfer had her food tray, silver dome and all. He wore civilian clothes—a tawny linen suit, open collar white shirt, white sandals. Not many haoles could pull off that look, but he carried it like a bouquet of plumerias.

“Please, no need to get up,” he said. “I’ll put it down right here.”

She stepped back as he set the tray on the little table beside the chaise, crowding out her Camel smoldering in the ashtray. She couldn’t help noticing that he added the slightest bow.

“Where’s that DeSoto boy?” she said.

Selfer laughed. “Even buck privates get time off now and then.”

She felt for the chaise behind her and sat on the edge, eyeing the silver dome.

“It’s Spam with poi,” Selfer said.

She rolled her eyes.

“Only kidding,” he said through another laugh. “Mahi-mahi, sticky rice, coconut pudding.” He nodded at the room. “Nice digs.”

“Snazzy. Only thing missing is the opium pipe.”

“I’ll take that as a confirmation,” Selfer said, losing the smile. He lowered himself into the armchair at his heels without so much as a glance at it. “Are you going to eat?” he added.

“You planning on watching me?” she said.

“The food can wait, then. I won’t take up too much of your time.”

She picked up the jade cigarette holder and got the Camel glowing again.

Selfer, eyeing her, said, “So, your father is native Hawaiian. Joey ‘The Pug’ Alana.”

“Was.”

“Indeed. I’m sorry.”

“Is this supposed to be the small talk story?” Kanani blew smoke toward the ceiling. “I’m not fooled by this, you know.”

“Oh? Go on.”

“All this splendor you show me. Throwing da act. Sailor guys in Honolulu Chinatown get the same treatment but it’s plenty liquor, flower behind an ear, one skimpy silky bodice.”

“And then?”

“Next thing they know they’re out on their popos in a Hotel Street gutter.”

“Undoubtedly. But you, my dear, are not a sailor.”

It was how you received the act they were throwing, Kanani reminded herself. First came the luxury. Then came the sweet talk. “Well, I’m no admiral either, bruddah,” she said.

Selfer sat up, rested his elbows on the chair arms, and produced a Chesterfield he didn’t light. “I apologize for being short with you before. With Wendell Lett. I needed to talk to him.”

“You treated me like the help.” Kanani shrugged. “That’s nothing new.”

Selfer held a hand to his heart. “May I never do it again, dear.”

Oh, Selfer was good. He was plenty smoother than the white men in their starched collars. A smoothie like him makes you figure you’re in it together and for keeps. Sure, she saw right through Selfer. For keeps lasted only until you lost. All the same, she started thinking there might be a way to make this rapport they had work for her. First she had to find out who he worked for exactly, and what they had in store for her.