Chapter 10
DIANA
My eyes sneakily dart back and forth between my plate and my siblings throughout dinner. They don’t acknowledge nor say a word the entire time.
My nerves slowly unravel, relief sinking in.
Then Gregory lets out a sigh.
“The joint project is pretty ambitious, Diana. I hope you’ll be able to pull it off.” He cocks his head and smiles at Kai. “What do you think, Mr. Mason-Maiau?”
Kai stiffens. His hand winds around his glass of water, making his knuckles go white. Still, he offers Gregory a kind smile he doesn’t deserve.
“I…I think we should talk about this at a better time. You know, when we’re not trying to shove food in our mouths.”
“Of course.” Gregory chuckles. “I’m asking you for too much anyways. You’re only an intern, after all.”
“It’s too bad we’re not at a hockey rink,” Jonathan chimes in. He chortles against his wine glass. “You’d be so useful if we were.”
“Please.” Gregory scoffs. “Anyone can be useful if they have some…help.”
Kai’s chest starts to rise and fall a little too rapidly, his throat bobbing uncomfortably.
Out of the people they’d use to attack me, I didn’t think Kai would be one of them.
My fingers curl into my napkin. “The only person who needs help is you, Gregory. Behave yourself and let Mr. Maison-Maiau enjoy his meal.”
Gregory scowls at me. “You’re—”
“Enough.”
Our heads snap towards the end of the table.
Bàba glares at us. “We have guests. Keep your petty squabbles to yourself.”
I lower my head. Gregory begrudgingly obeys with his hands fisting at his sides.
A stiff, awkward air suffocates the table, but it doesn’t crack bàba’s charm in the slightest.
“I apologize about my son.” Bàba gestures for wine and fills up a glass for Kai. “What’s your name again?”
Kai swallows hard. “Kai Mason-Maiau, sir.”
Bàba angles his head. Kai looks back despite how much his hands are shaking. I watch the exchange with my breath growing taut. As charming as bàba can be, I know he wouldn’t hesitate to tear Kai apart if he ever made one wrong move against him.
But tonight, bàba simply smiles.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Mason-Maiau.”
The tension from the dinner table keeps a tight grip on me even when the plates are cleared away and the dinner party moves outside.
I thread past the dancing guests in the backyard, trying to find Kai through it all. He bolted the second dinner was over that I’m convinced he already left the party.
Then a familiar shiver draws down my spine, turning my head towards the fountain.
Kai dances with a very drunk Anya Desai. I try to stay as cordial as possible when I come between them.
“Oh, yes, of course!” Anya giggles. “You kids enjoy!”
Kai is rigid when his arm winds around my waist.
“I’m so sorry about my family,” I whisper.
He avoids eye contact. The only ounce of acknowledgement comes from his hand slightly tightening on mine as we dance together. “There’s no point in apologizing if you see me the same way they do.”
“I don’t see you that way, Kai.”
“I just don’t understand why you’re nice to me one moment, and the next, you push me away.”
“I have reasons for doing things that have nothing to do with you.”
The plea in my voice finally draws his attention back down to me. Kai sighs, slightly annoyed now.
“I know you heard the rumors. Everyone has, and you can see me however you want. But don’t act like you’re any different from your family.”
“Don’t act as if you know me because you don’t,” I seethe.
“Judging by how you’re treating me, I don’t think I want to know you,” Kai snaps.
“Fine! Then go! You don’t need to be here anymore.”
“Lucky for you, right?”
Kai drops my hand and storms off. Through the throng of dancing guests, I watch him go until he disappears.
I try to convince myself that Kai is better off hating me. It keeps him far away from me, and I know I can stay focused without him around me.
Kai hating me is prudent.
It’s safe.
Even if my heart breaks at the thought.
KAI
I slam the car door shut.
The old Hyundai Elantra shudders and creaks like it always does ever since Uncle Manu passed it down to me. Nothing about it has really changed.
Especially my reflection in the rearview mirror.
Moonlight skims across my black curls, slashes through the wide expanse of my nose, and glows into my dark green eyes.
Traces of mama’s Tahitian-Native Hawaiian roots and papa’s English roots bind together in a way that’s always made people question what I am.
I’m either not white enough or I’m not French Polynesian enough.
It’s hard to be accepted for who I am when people have already made up their minds about me.
I wasn’t blind to that fact when I started playing hockey.
Before I was a DHU Griffin, boys didn’t see me as another player on the ice.
They only saw a kid who didn’t look like them.
The doping rumors basically poured gasoline over the pyre people built for me.
But I also set fire to it, too. I let the negative press get to me and fumbled our chance of getting to the Frozen Four, which made the rumors look true.
It’s been three years, and I hate how the rumors still follow me everywhere I go.
Even in places beyond the arena.
My phone suddenly rings.
I look down and see papa’s face flashing on the screen. He’s smiling awkwardly, a hand scratching at his brown hair, while his dark green eyes crinkle against the sun.
I sigh, running a hand over my face.
The timing can’t get any fucking worse.
I answer the call and smile into the camera. “Ia Orana, papa.”
“Je suis ici aussi!” Mama chimes in. I’m here, too!
She sidles up beside papa on the couch. Ha’apiti’s breeze ripples against her flowery sun dress that’s as bright as the pins holding back her curly bun.
She angles her head and smiles at me. “As-tu déjà mangé, mon c?ur?” Did you eat yet, my heart?
“Oui.”
The rest of the conversation carries on in French.
“I went to an event tonight for my internship.”
Papa nods and claps his hands together. “Well, I’m glad you’re staying focused on your courses! I was afraid all that time swatting a puck would interfere with that,” he chuckles.
“I’m doing more than that, papa. I’m making my own money by training young hockey players.”
“Well, that’s nice. But don’t forget about what you promised us. The family business still needs a Mason-Maiau on board to run it.”
My patience frays.
Mama and papa created Motu Views to impress my papau, my grandfather.
He didn’t exactly approve of their marriage because papa wasn’t French Polynesian.
Norman Mason came from Berkley, California, to do a marine biology internship in Mo’orea and ended up falling in love with my mom, Keala Maiau, when they met at a local market.
Motu Views earned papau’s half-hearted respect, but he’s still fighting to win it now.
My hands grip my phone so tight that the tendons start to ache.
“I’m trying to build a life that makes me happy. If I don’t make it to the NHL, then at least let me try to make it work in the sports indust—”
“Do you know what happens to NHL players when they get injured?” Mama cuts in. Her eyes widen, and her hands fly out. “One hit, and you’re done! You’ll be left with absolutely nothing, mon c?ur, and we don’t want that for you.”
My eyes fall shut.
They’re not listening. They’ve never fucking listened to anything except for the fear in their heads.
Papa sighs, his voice soft and placating, “We’re not your enemies, Kainoa.
We’re still giving you until the end of the year to prove yourself on the ice.
But if you don’t get signed to a team, we need you here to help run Motu Views.
Promise me that you’ll keep working hard on your business degree and stay focused on what you need to do this year. No distractions.”
I blow out a breath, leaning back against the headrest. I nod. “No distractions. I promise.”
Relief unravels across my parents’ faces.
“Goodnight, mon c?ur.” Mama blows a kiss into the camera. “We’ll talk to you soon.”
I smile faintly. “Goodnight.”
The call ends.
I chuck my phone onto the passenger seat, crank the ignition on, and blast my music as loud as it can go on my drive back to the apartment.