On the Rocks Read online

  4. Part-Time Lover

  - 1 1/2 oz. Blanco Tequila

  - 1/2 oz. Aperol

  - 1/2 oz. Elderflower Liqueur

  - 3/4 oz. Fresh Lemon Juice

  - 2 dashes Angostura Bitters

  Lopaka (pronounced Lō-PAH-ka) gets out of the shower with his naked body still dripping wet. From his full-head of hair, water droplets make their way down his well-defined physique caressing every ripple along the way. His arms are pumped and his abs are tight from hitting the gym just before he got home.

  Grabbing a towel off the rack, he begins to wipe himself down. Now mostly dry, he wraps the towel around his waist and looks to his iPhone sitting on the bathroom counter. He presses the button that activates his home screen, only to reveal that no one has left him any messages.

  “What the fuck!” Lopaka quietly whispers to himself.

  Lopaka is a handsome Hawaiian male, naturally tanned from always being outdoors. He sits at a comfortable 5’8”, with an uncomfortably thick 8.5” dick. Having joined CrossFit a year ago, his ripped muscles and all-around athletic body help contribute to making him one of Violet’s top male go-go dancers.

  About six months ago, Lopaka started hooking up with another go-go dancer named Ryan, a good-looking local white boy with the body of a Greek God. Having spent half a year working together, working-out together and working each other’s prostate, it was only a matter of time before feelings arose. Living in a society where No Labels has become the trend, the two boys followed suit. Never fully committing to each other as boyfriends, but wanting to be more than just fuck-buddies, the lines and boundaries lie vague and blurry. Tonight is no exception.

  Having agreed upon dinner plans the day before, Lopaka waits patiently to hear from his ‘boyfriend/not-boyfriend,’ Ryan. However, with no surprise, Ryan is, once again, M.I.A. Frustrated and tired of Ryan’s constant flakiness, Lopaka wonders why he continually puts himself in this situation.

  Staring at his reflection in the mirror, Lopaka looks into his own light brown eyes. The mirror could shatter with how intense his gaze is. He looks to the ceiling and closes his eyes before exhaling vehemently.

  “I’m so over this,” Lopaka says looking back at the mirror and speaking to his reflection as if it were another person in the room. His mood quickly changes from irritated to determined. He grabs his cell phone off the counter, walks into the bedroom and throws his iPhone into his duffel bag.

  On the TV, a commercial for the ever-popular, reality competition show entitled America’s Next Top Drag Queen catches Lopaka’s eye. He focuses in as he puts on his clothes, never letting his eyes leave the screen.

  Last year’s winner, Tara Way, appears on screen and speaks directly to the camera. “Do you think you have what it takes to drag yourself to the top? Then, go to ‘ANTDQ.com’ and submit your video application today! You could be the winner of a $100,000! Who will carry on the legacy and tear…” She tears away her outer costume, to reveal another costume underneath, “down the competition? Are you that bitch?”

  Lopaka watches the commercial and thinks to himself, I wouldn’t mind trying drag, then immediately retracts his thought and thinks, Shit, what am I thinking? Ryan would hate that. He said he doesn’t date femmes.

  He turns the TV off, grabs his duffel bag and heads out the door to get something to eat… alone.

  5. Old Fashioned

  - 1 1/2 oz Bourbon or Rye Whiskey

  - 2 dashes Angostura Bitters

  - 1 sugar cube

  - Few dashes of plain water

  Robin sits in the office of Violet wearing her favorite butterfly print blouse. She’s the only one in the club. At her desk, she stares blankly at a letter that states “Second Notice.” She threw away the first notice hoping that it would magically disappear. Out of sight, out of mind, she thought. That is, of course, until it shows up in your mailbox again like a guy in your DMs after ignoring him the first time.

  She’s been staring at this letter for the past five minutes. This month’s payment to the building owners is overdue and her rent for the upcoming month is due by the end of the week. With no money and no plan, Robin sighs a defeated sigh.

  Robin, a transgender Hawaiian woman in her mid 50s, is the owner of ‘Violet Nightclub’ and has been the owner since day one. She’s tall with broad shoulders and with her hair up in a bun, she makes “The Rock” look like a pebble. Her frivolous spending throughout the years and flippant attitude toward hiring a financial advisor has turned the once lucrative nightclub into a blackhole for green dollar signs.

  “Hey,” a familiar voice says from the doorway behind her. Robin turns around to discover it’s her best friend Chyna.

  Chyna is also a transgender woman. She’s a similar height to Robin and just a year younger. Their friendship extends back to high school, when Robin was a senior and Chyna was a junior. They knew every cheerleading routine, even though they weren’t on the cheerleading team. Of course back then, they went by ‘Robbie’ and ‘Chuckie,’ short for Robert and Charles.

  Coming from a strict, traditional Korean family, Chyna’s family disowned her when she decided to transition from male to female. Having nowhere else to go and with the grace of her best friend, Chyna moved in with Robin into her tiny studio apartment. The two friends, both at the beginning of their transition journeys, decided at that moment to make a promise to each other: nothing and no one in this life would ever stand in their way again.

  “How did you get in here?” Robin says slightly startled, but masking it with anger. She quickly throws the letter back into the envelope in which it came.

  “Girl, how long have we been friends? I know you leave the back door open during the day for deliveries. If you ask me, you should leave the front door open too, if you know what I mean. Two for one special.” She notices Robin putting away the letter. “What’s that?”

  “Oh it’s nothing. Just a doctor’s bill from my last check up. Gotta keep the poop chute still shooting, right?” Robin lies and jokes to change the subject.

  “Which reminds me… Have you seen the new movie ‘Constipated?’ Oh wait, it hasn’t come out yet.” China spits the one-liner at Robin. They both scream dramatically and laugh hysterically.

  “No, but I did see ‘Diarrhea.’ It leaked, so they had to release it early.” Robin wittily comes back with. They scream again and continue cackling.

  “Seriously though, how is your health?” Chyna asks, changing the mood.

  “I’m good, girl. For real. Don’t worry about me. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried,” Robin jokes to calm her friend’s mind.

  Chyna is one of the few people who know that Robin is HIV-positive. Not wanting everyone to constantly worry and check up on her, she keeps this information a secret. Her lack of protection during sex in her former years led her to the three letters every queer person fears: HIV. While there have been medical advances in recent years, there is still no cure for HIV. Again, with no money and no plan, Robin’s hope and health are dwindling.

  “Let’s get out of here. Do you want to get some Mexican?” Robin asks.

  “Always. As long as he doesn’t give me the runs.”

  “Runs where? Across the border?” Robin one-ups.

  “Yeah, girl. Let ‘em! I love Latin men,” Chyna expresses. “Seriously though, girl, that Mexican place we had last time gave me the runs. Let’s not go there again.” They head out the back door, locking the club on the way out.

  6. POG Mimosa

  - 2 1/2 oz Champagne

  - 2 1/2 oz Passion fruit-Orange-Guava Juice

  Ashley and Malu turn the corner in their slightly beat-up white SUV. Having left the kids at home with Ashley’s parents, they rush over to work thinking that they’re late, but realize that they’re actually pretty early.

  They pull right up to the entrance of ‘Violet,’ where the sign states No Parking 24 hours. Malu realized awhile ago that as the doorman, he’s in the perfect position to watch their car and
make sure no one tows it. This stall has become his very own VIP parking.

  Malu is 5’11” and a proud Hawaiian. He’s big-boned and thick. Not fat at all, but instead a solid mass of man. Having wrestled back in high school, his stature can come off as intimidating, but his class clown personality makes him lovable. Often being misread for flirting with other girls, his playful, fun-loving ways can cause tension between him and Ashley,

  As Ashley is getting out of the passenger side of their car, she hears a “Good Moooooorning!” Knowing that it’s obviously not morning, Ashley gathers straightaway that it has to be an employee of Violet, but who?

  ‘Good Morning’ has become the greeting of the entire staff of Violet. Having started as a joke further back than anyone can or cares to remember, it has since caught on and stuck like E6000.

  Ashley looks over her shoulder to see Parker and Momi walking hand in hand toward her. They’ve both got a devious smile on their face. “Uh-oh. Here comes trouble,” Ashley says with a sarcastic tone, loud enough for them to hear.

  Parker and Momi giggle, throw their empty ice cream cups into the nearby trash can and meet Ashley at her side of the car. “Hi cousin,” Momi greets.

  “Hi cuz,” Ashley says back. The two girls hug.

  Momi’s dad and Ashley’s dad are brothers. Although the girls are first cousins, Momi and Ashley grew up more like sisters. This is the case in many close, tight-knit Hawaiian families.

  “Hey Ashley,” Parker says with a warm smile on his face.

  “Good Morning, babes,” Ashley responds and kisses Parker on the cheek.

  “HOOOOOOOOOOOO YOU FUCKAHSSS!!!” Malu yells out of Ashley’s open passenger door, still sitting in the driver’s seat. Sounding like someone ready to fight, the opposite is actually true. “Fuckah” in many cases is a term of endearment and a common way for Hawaii boys to greet each other.

  “SUP YOU FUCKAH!” Parker yells back and then heads to Malu’s side of the car. Malu gets out of the driver’s seat and the boys do the bro hug: hand shake first, keeping their first between them and hugging with the other arm. They start in their own conversation.

  The two girls look at each other and roll their eyes. “That’s your husband,” Momi says sarcastically.

  “He ain’t my husband,” Ashley replies. “Do you see a ring on this hand?” She flashes her bare left hand. “GUESS HE DIDN’T LIKE IT, CAUSE HE DIDN’T PUT A RING ON IT!” Hoping that Malu would overhear, she looks in his direction. Completely engulfed in his own conversation, Malu is unaware of her last statement. “Ugh. He’s been irritating me recently,” Ashley admits.

  “You guys are always so up and down. If there was a rollercoaster in Hawaii, it would be called the ‘Ashley and Malu.’” Momi says while laughing.

  “Shut up!” Ashley responds angrily, all the while knowing it’s probably true. She playfully hits Momi on the arm. “Anyway, what were you guys just up to?”

  “Oh nothing. We just got some ice cream from the shop around the block,” Momi says nonchalantly, not making eye contact with her cousin.

  “And…” Ashley replies as to infer that there’s more to the story than she’s saying.

  “And what?” Momi responds, playing dumb and continuing to avoid eye contact.

  “Cousin, I know you. And I know when you’re not telling me something.” Ashley is adamant. “Look, you can’t even look me in the eye!”

  After a very labored pause, “Ok fiiiiiine,” Momi says pretending she doesn’t want to spill the truth, but secretly hoping someone would ask. “We met this girl…”

  “Let me guess… three-way?” Ashley interjects and jumps to the point.

  Momi pauses and acts shocked, “You really do know me.”

  Ashley shakes her head, but with a smile on her face.

  “What? Don’t judge! You guys should try it. Maybe then you guys wouldn’t fight as much.” Momi offers her cousin some advice.

  “Yeah, I’m sure he would love that,” Ashley replies, referring to Malu. “Girl, you know my ass is too jealous. That girl would be dead before he even laid a hand on her. And we are not having a threesome with a corpse.” The two girls share a laugh.

  Ashley and Momi look back at their boyfriends. In the time that they’ve been talking, they hadn’t noticed that Sam joined the other two boys.

  Sam is the other doorman. They call him “Sam the Samoan.” He and Malu are like two peas in a pod, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. Being a 300 lbs Samoan, his size and mean face help keep people from getting rowdy in the club, but also hinder him from making friends and finding a special woman to call his own.

  Sam makes eye contact with the girls and throws up a shaka to say hello. The two girls say “Good Morning, Sam” in unison and wave back.

  “Sam’s such a teddy bear,” Momi says at a volume only Ashley can hear.

  “No, he’s not,” Ashley disagrees quickly. She, then, changes her tone, “Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy, he’s like a brother to Malu, but he’s such a hopeless romantic. He falls in love with every girl he sees in line. Did you know last week he let twelve girls in for free… TWELVE! And that was all in the same night! He ruins my count!”

  Ashley works the door, collecting entrance fees and counting the number of people walking into the club to ensure the club doesn’t go over maximum capacity.

  “Big Softie,” Momi responds.

  “More like big for nothing,” Ashley exhales.

  7. STP (Sweet Tight Pussy)

  - 3/4 oz Malibu Coconut Rum

  - 3/4 oz Midori Melon Liqueur

  - 1/2 oz Pineapple juice

  - Splash of 7-Up

  *Shake and serve as a shot

  A couple of blocks from Violet, at a Mexican restaurant named ‘Taco Hell,’ known for its fiery hot sauces, Lopaka sits alone at a table near the window. His burrito is cold and barely touched and he’s scrolling aimlessly through Instagram. He still hasn’t texted me, he thinks to himself, hoping that at that very moment, a text from Ryan would pop up magically with a wonderfully descriptive and viable reason as to why he couldn’t make it to dinner… but this is not the case. Tired of the constant disappointment, he puts his phone face down on the table and decides to people-watch.

  To Lopaka’s Surprise, Robin and Chyna walk right past him on the outside of the big glass window pane. Chyna reaches for the door to the Mexican restaurant and holds it open, so Robin can enter first.

  “Thanks, love.” Robin thanks Chyna for her kind gesture.

  “It’s ‘Miss Love’ to you! Thank you very much,” Chyna responds sassily.

  “Miss? Uh, don’t you mean ‘Mrs. Love?’” Robin tries to remind her friend.

  “Sssshhh. Shut up. I have clientele around here.” Chyna tries to hush Robin. Although she is not technically married, Chyna hides the fact that she has a ‘husband’ for business sake.

  “Oh, that’s right. Forgive me…” Robin starts and then continues loudly and sarcastically, “Thank you so much, MRS. Chyna Make Love of the Waianae Mountains; wife of the ever-missing and ever-fat, Larry Love, and resident whore of downtown Honolulu.” Robin looks at Chyna and raises her eyebrows as to say Don’t test me, bitch.

  Chyna is, what they call in the LGBT world, a pre-op (short for pre-operation) transgender woman. While she has breast implants, her other private region is still of the male variety. Back in their late twenties, Chyna and Robin made the decision to transition from male to female, in hopes that their outer body would match their inner persona. With the lack of care and understanding from the world at large, help for transgender people from medical insurance companies, at that time, was poor to non-existent. Having found no other option as to pay for the expensive procedures that were to come, Chyna and Robin turned to prostituting.

  Having saved up enough money to fully transition, the two friends began the process. After many years of ups and downs, Robin accomplished her lifelong dream of becoming a post-op transgender woman. Chyna, however, was a different sto
ry.

  Having found that there is a niche market for pre-op transgender women in the escort service and also liking the easy money that comes from hooking, Chyna decided not to fully transition. This is a decision that she is proud of and will stick by ’til her dying day. Although her need for the money has now passed, Chyna continues to sell her ‘goodies.’ Her clientele leave happy and she now has regulars that take care of her very well. Her ’husband’ was one of those regulars and he was the very one, who nicknamed her ‘Chyna.’ With skin as smooth and milky as porcelain chinaware, Chyna liked the name and adopted it.

  As the two friends are bickering and just about to reach the register in Taco Hell, they here a “Huuuiii” come from behind them. (Hui is a common greeting call in Hawaii in order to get someone’s attention.) The ladies turn around perfectly in sync, as if it were a planned dance move, and find Lopaka looking at them shaking his head with a smirk on his face.

  “Boy, what did I tell you about yelling at a woman like that?” Robin marches over to Lopaka, with Chyna two steps behind her.

  “Sorry, Mother!” Lopaka jokes.

  “Oh shut up, daughter!” Robin comes back just as sarcastically.

  “What are you doing here all by yourself?” Chyna asks. Lopaka looks up at Chyna with eyes that say Don’t ask.

  “Again?!” Robin exclaims, assuming she already knows the situation. Without an invitation, she seats herself at Lopaka’s table directly across from him. Chyna pulls up a chair from the next table over and joins them. “Why do you keep wasting your time with him?”

  “Yeah, there’s plenty of fish in the sea, honey,” Chyna chimes in, but her focus is elsewhere. She’s made eye contact with a Honolulu businessman on another table and she’s trying to feel out if he is a potential “customer.”

  “Listen, life is short. Trust me, I would know.” Robin refers to her illness. Lopaka, not knowing that Robin is HIV-positive, just assumes she’s talking about her age. “You can’t be spending your days waiting around for things to change. YOU have to be the change in your own life!” Robin delivers the last line looking directly into Lopaka’s eyes.