Four o"clock Friday afternoon found Rey, Linda and I driving along the H2 toward Wahiawa. No, we weren"t naïve or dense enough to believe we"d find Xavier Konani at the house with Zeus, Dale and Joel; he was a druggie (as Rey kept calling him), not stupid. Still, it was worth checking.
The drive was slow. People were finishing work and eager to get home. We didn"t mind. It was cloudy and cool (cool in Hawaiian terms, meaning 76 degrees instead of 84). Open windows allowed a refreshing, fragrant breeze to flow through an orchid-white Nissan Cube SL. All was well with the world. Or so you could convince yourself with the right attitude and outlook.
Honey hadn"t yet heard from her son, but she"d grown used to his “flights of freedom”, as she called them. She fretted as a mother would, but n
