We followed the mysterious Nari’e woman into an alley. It felt familiar, somehow, which shouldn’t have been surprising as we were near the place where I’d been taken to meet Mea in the first place. But I was so drunk the first time, I doubted any sense of recognition I thought I had. That first night, I’d barely been sober enough to speak, let alone remember anything like a nondescript alley that looked just like all the others in this quarter. Sheen followed close behind, watching with sharp eyes. I could feel his tension, his unease, as if it were mine. I wondered if the mysterious woman who called herself Ohelo could feel it too.

Her footsteps were silent, despite the puddled up, damp streets we splashed in. Sheen and I were louder than can be, making more sound than I thought was possible. Although, we were rather tipsy, bordering on drunk. At least it was better than the first time I apparently came this way.

We stopped in front of a dingy green door. It had a light above it, but it was broken, relying on the nonexistent street lights to show the way. The door led to what I vaguely remembered as the headquarters warehouse. But again, I didn’t trust much of my memory. I only hoped it was so, otherwise, we were walking right into a mugging trap. I took a deep breath and put my faith into Ohelo, for better or worse. I hoped it was for the better.

“This is it,” Ohelo said, gesturing towards the door.

I started to make my way to open it. She stopped me.

“Are you stupid? You can’t just go in there. Let me.”

She pushed in front of me, covered whatever she was doing to the door with her body so I couldn’t see. For a moment, I heard silent tapping, saw a light shining emitting from in front of her. Some kind of technological security? Immediately, I felt a little embarrassed. Nari’e would have their access to some kind of tech, that shouldn’t’ be surprising to me. Especially those with important jobs to do, like Mea, and apparently this Ohelo person.

Whatever she did, it worked. I heard a click, and the door opened just the tiniest smidge amount, just enough for Ohelo to squeeze her hand in there and open it enough for us to come through. It must have been surprisingly heavy, as her struggle to open it was more than obvious. Although, Ohelo was a very slight, short woman, one who looked as if she might disappear should she turn the right way.

The door revealed a bustling, busy atmosphere, surprisingly loud given how silent it was inside. I couldn’t see how many people were in there, but I could hear them. The door led to a hallway with several turns, which we followed, ending in the large open area of the warehouse. As it was before, it was filled with shipping containers. These containers housed people selling wares, speaking and having meetings, or serving food. It was like a little mini market, held in secret in this discreet, supposedly abandoned warehouse. Mea must be somewhere inside here, probably like she had been when I’d first met her. Although last time, it was much quieter, as there was basically nobody around. Tonight, it felt almost like a dangerous festival, a carnival of gray areas. I had no doubt whatever was going on here had some illegal things to it – otherwise, why the secrecy?

Every single person in here looked to be Nari’e, and of questionable character. I found myself doubting what I knew about Mea. Internally, I chastised myself. I knew she was deep within a political movement, but nothing about what she’d shown me so far seemed ill-intentioned. In fact, it was quite the opposite. The little I’d seen I felt was enough to judge her accurately, and everything told me she was a girl who just wanted to change the world for the better, just like me. I hoped she’d be happy to see me. I felt the alcohol kick in more, the liquor a little slow-acting, and despite how tipsy/drunk I already was, I instinctively felt that it was about to kick up a notch. I gulped.

“This is it,” Ohelo said, gesturing to the crowd. “Kaika should be in here somewhere.”

I momentarily had forgotten that she had first been introduced to me as Kaika, her surname. Her people called her that as a show of respect, I assumed.

“Has she… mentioned me?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious. Was this all one-sided?

Ohelo gave me a disappointed look. “Do you think I’d let just anyone in here?” She rolled her eyes. “Men.”

“What do you call this place?” Sheen said appreciatively.

“Mākeke Pō,” she said casually. “Night Market. Let’s get this over with.”

She began to weave her way through the crowd, the people who noticed her coming by making a path for her, giving her respectful stares. We, however, earned looks of distrust and a few rude mumblings. I tried my best to ignore them.

Finally, we arrived at our destination, the shipping container where I had first met Mea. The door was closed and locked, guarded by a handful of people I hadn’t met before. I could hear murmurs coming from inside, but they were unintelligible. Ohelo boldly walked past the guards and knocked on the door three times, then called out her name.

The murmurs stopped. Other noises came from within, possibly cabinets shutting and papers ruffling, but it was hard to hear in the cacophony of the Night Market. The steel of the container didn’t do much to insulate the sound, but it was enough that I couldn’t hear what was really going on in there.

The door opened, the hinges creaking with the effort. Inside, I saw two people I instantly recognized and one I didn’t. The two women were Mea, of course, and Ha’ana, her right hand woman. They both glared at me sharply, instantly zeroing in on my shocked face. The other person, a man, stood with crossed arms and a blank stare. He unsettled me, his perfect averageness. He had all the typical features of a Nari’e – the black hair, cropped short as most men wore it, a wide, proud nose, and almond shaped dark eyes. He had no tattoos, was of average build and average height, just under six foot. Nothing about him was remarkable, but his stare felt lethal.

Behind them was a desk that I hadn’t noticed the first time I’d been there. It had cabinets underneath it, complete with locks. That must have been what I’d heard before they opened the door. The desk was empty of anything, and I reasoned whatever they were working on wasn’t common knowledge. They’d sanitized their work station before allowing me to see it. The thought gave me goosebumps, chills, to wonder at what was going on in there.

“I’ll come back another time, Kaika,” said the disturbingly threatening and non-threatening man. “We can finish our discussion then, when we can be… uninterrupted.”

Mea nodded solemnly. “A hui hou, Meha.”

It must have been a type of farewell, because he stepped out of the shipping container, followed by two of the men who had been guarding the door. He walked out past me, brushing by with a gust of air that left behind no noticeable scent. When he left, it was as if he was never there. I shivered again, the action involuntary.

“Why are you here.”

Oof. Her words were not kind to me. I cringed, feeling all hints of the alcohol fight my adrenaline and fear that were shooting through me.

“Erm,” I stuttered. “I wanted to say… sorry? For…yesterday?”

She blinked at me. “And who is this?”

“Dr. Sheen Fisher, at your service,” Sheen jumped in, presenting his hand to shake. He was speaking to Mea, but his eyes were on Ha’ana the entire time. She simply watched back, evaluating us and probably finding us lacking.

Mea blinked, then blinked again. “Are you… drunk?” she said finally, staring intently at us.

“We tried to be,” Sheen said. “But we didn’t succeed as well as we’d have liked to.”

She huffed. “We can’t speak here. You two need to sleep this off… and we need to have a chat before you go.” She flicked her eyes over to Ha’ana, who apparently understood what she was trying to say, as she readied her possessions to leave. “I’ll take you someplace safe for the night. Come with us.”

~

We had followed meekly into a junky car, similar to the one that I had ridden in before when I’d met her. I had a suspicion it was the same one, but I wasn’t sure. The ride had been silent when we pulled up to the dimly lit, run down house on the street. It was a shabby two story, crammed in between two other houses in similar shape. The siding was grungy, faded, and peeling. The windows sagged, the front steps were molded and dipping through. One had a large hole in it. The front porch, teeny as it was, had been clearly modified so that it would still stand upright. A series of precariously placed, yet somehow solid, tower of rocks supported one end of the porch overhang. The other end was the original post, rotted, but still functional enough.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Wordlessly, Mea exited when the car stopped. Ha’ana followed her out. Sheen and I exchanged looks, but he shrugged and followed everyone else, while I swallowed any fears I had and tried to figure out if we were being murdered. It didn’t feel suspicious to me, and Mea hadn’t lied to me so far. That I knew of. For some reason, I trusted her, and I trusted that I could be here with her and not fear for my life. Besides, what harm could these two women do to me? Surely, between Sheen and I, we would be able to come out on top if it were just them. I gulped as I stepped out of the car and onto the street. Hopefully that would be the case, and there wasn’t a whole group of thugs in there waiting to kill us.

Sheen stood next to me, turned away from the girls who were fiddling with the lock on the door, and whispered in my ear. “I see why you’re so smitten. She’s a fox.”

I smacked his arm discreetly.

“What, mate?” He laughed quietly but continued his subdued whispers. “Her friend is even finer. Dibs.”

They got the door open, the aged door creaking on the rusted hinges as it swung open. We followed Mea and Ha’ana inside, who locked the door behind us.

“This is home,” Mea said, gesturing to the cluttered, yet tidy kitchen.

The house was small, of that there was no doubt. The kitchen and the living area were all one space, with a door that hinted at a bathroom on the far corner by the stairs. The kitchen counters were almost entirely covered in random cooking paraphernalia, fruits and vegetables, and other things. Half of the cabinets didn’t have doors on them, and the furniture itself was clearly outdated and faded from age. A small circular table hugged a spare corner with two chairs, and a sagging couch sat against the wall in the living room. There was no wallscreen that I could see; only wallpaper that was water stained and undoubtedly fifty years old.

“It’s nice,” Torven said politely, unsure how else to describe the place. It was nice, to be sure, it was just simply old and small. No amount of cleaning and tidying would fix that, though it seems that Mea had tried.

“It was my grandmother’s,” she said quietly. “Would you like a drink?”

I nodded. As always, alcohol was a crutch for me in awkward social situations, and if this wasn’t awkward, then I was clueless. She headed towards a cabinet, one with a door, and pulled out a dark liquor bottle and a few glasses. She filled them, and handed one to each of us, setting the glass bottle on the small circular table.

Mea gave Ha’ana a sharp look. They must know each other so well they could speak telepathically, I reasoned, as she grabbed the bottle of liquor and Sheen’s hand and dragged him away. He went willingly, I’m sure, as the grin on his face went from one ear to the other, but I still felt concerned for him. I didn’t want him to be taken advantage of, though I didn’t think Ha’ana would be the kind of person to do that.

“Is he going to be okay?” I asked Mea as soon as they were out of sight up the stairs.

She waved her hand. “As long as he can drink, he’ll be fine.” She gestured to the couch, the easiest place for us to sit and talk. She ran her finger along the edge of her glass, playing with it, delaying whatever she had to say.

I settled in next to her on the couch, the piece of furniture groaning its protest.

“I am angry with you,” she said blandly. “How did you even find me?”

“Ah, I am sorry,” I said. I gripped my glass tightly; I hated having someone unhappy with me. I couldn’t handle it. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.” I paused, thinking back to what I thought she was angry with me for. “Wait, you’re not angry that I didn’t meet up with you yesterday like you asked?”

She shook her head. “No. How did you find me?” she asked again.

“Oh, that was Sheen. I told him you direct messaged me the location for the café, and he did some reverse engineering magic to hack your WaComm and find your location. Don’t ask me how, I’ve no idea.”

She pursed her lips. “Ha’ana will have her hands full with that one, I expect.”

“And vice versa, I assume.”

She laughed. “Indeed.” She took a sip of her drink and turned to me. “All laughs aside, you cannot do that again. You cannot jump in on me uninvited. You nearly ruined an important business deal for me.”

Her words shot through my ears like darts, piercing and painful. Whatever I’d walked in on with that mysterious guy felt shady to me, but if it was important to her, then it was probably something for Ka Po’e. Whatever she was doing, I believed and trusted in her intentions, and I trusted her. It was a theme, something I’d been reminding myself of lately.

“Mea, I trust you. I believe what you’re doing is right,” I said, reassuring her and myself at the same time. “I worry that you’re dealing with dangerous people. Who was that guy you were meeting with? He seemed… scary.”

She shook her head at me. “I can’t say. Just know that he’s a business associate of mine, and he would never hurt me. That will have to be enough.”

I wanted it to be enough for me, but it didn’t do much to reassure my worries. But, her face made it clear that it was the end of the conversation, so I didn’t push it.

I cleared my throat, wanting to change the subject to ease the tension. “So, uh, this house. You said it was your grandmothers?”

“Yeah. She passed last year and left it to me.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. I know you mentioned her stories of your islands that inspired your movement here.”

“They did – and still do – but my friends and family that I have left inspire me more.”

“So, where are your parents then? Or is this place all yours?”

“It’s all mine. My parents have their own apartment, further down the street. They work a lot though, I don’t get to see them often.”

“Didn’t you mention that you had a lot of siblings?”

“Yeah, good memory,” she said, smiling. “Quite a few. They crash here sometimes. Well, some of them.” The end of her sentence turned bitter and angry.

“… did something happen to one of your siblings?”

She scoffed. “You could say that, yeah. My oldest brother is in prison.”

I swallowed the surprise in my throat before I could react poorly. “Why?”

“The police found him with an ounce of [drug]. Just an ounce, barely even enough to get high. When they arrested him, I saw it. I watched it happen. He was trying to cooperate, but the cops were beating him. It was so needlessly violent. I remember him kneeling on the ground, covering his head while they hit him with their batons. I heard every whack.”

“Oh, Mea, I’m so sorry.”

“It gets worse.” She looked up at me with dry eyes, filled with a fiery rage that lit them up from the inside. “He was only in prison for a few days, waiting for a hearing. He couldn’t make bail – we didn’t have the money. And he got stabbed.”

I didn’t know what to say, didn’t have any words of comfort that could help her. So, I set my drink on the floor and put my arm around her, offering her what I hoped was some measure of comfort. She leaned her head into my shoulder, pressing into it as if to ease the pressure of her pain.

“He died there, all alone. I never got to say goodbye. The last time I saw him, he was driving away in the back of that police car, beaten and bloody.” She breathed heavily, the words clearly weighing on her. “I was barely ten.”

“I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through,” I whispered, feeling her pain. I wanted nothing more than to take it away, shoo it through the window, never to be seen again.

“It’s alright. I’ve had almost ten years to deal with it, now. Time heals all wounds.”

“You’re a wise woman,” I said as she lifted up away from my shoulder, though the distance between us had shrank.

She smiled again, radiant and sheepish at the same time. “A fact you should’ve learned by now.” She looked up at me, vulnerable and pleading. “Promise me you won’t do what you did tonight ever again?”

I nodded solemnly. I realized now that her work was too important for me to accidentally and inadvertently ruin. This was something close to her heart. I would never take that from her.

“I promise. I’ll keep your identity secret, won’t tell another soul about you, won’t jeopardize your work in any way. But you have to answer something for me, too.”

She tilted her head at me, curious. “Ask away.”

“Mea, I have to know. Is this –“ I gestured at the two of us “ – something important to you? Or is this all, you know… one sided?”

She smiled, something small and sweet, one corner of her lip tilting upward. “It’s not one sided, Torven.” She leaned in even closer. “I do like you.”

“Maybe to prevent this misunderstanding ever happening again, you could give me your number,” I said, closing the distance between us just an inch more.

Her lips beckoned, parted slightly as her breaths came in small pants. She ended the distance between us, sealing her lips to mine in a sweet, breathy kiss. She tasted like summer, of coconut, of intoxicating paradise. I lost myself in the scent of her skin, her wild beauty, her passion.

When we separated, I saw stars. My head was spinning, and I wasn’t sure where I was. It was as if I’d departed the planet for a moment, just from that kiss. I’d never felt anything like this before, it was the spark of a lifetime. She made me feel as if I’d been floating, that her caress was pure ecstasy.

I blinked, still surprised that she’d kissed me. When I looked down, I realized she had her hands on my WaComm and was typing something in. I hoped it was her contact info so I could talk to her again without having to meet up with her like this.

“The couch is a convertible bed,” she said into my ear, her hair tickling my neck. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

When I’d collected myself enough to understand what she was saying, she had already gone up the stairs.