Page 53 of Fumiko and the Finicky Nestmate
Outside was a little chilly since the entire beach was draped in fog. Slipping through the secret gate, Akira took the alley between the library and the flower shop. Sounds were muffled, but people were getting an early start. Women in red aprons were unloading crates of produce from the back of the red truck he’d noticed before, the one with a rooster logo on the door.
He spied Sinder, who was deep in conversation with a man with spiky brown hair and Melody from the flower shop. Antigone wasn’t far away, chatting with two ladies who wore the aprons.
Akira moved to join Sinder, but a man stepped into his path. “Haven’t seen you around here before. How goes it, friend?”
“Good morning. Hello,” Akira answered, trying not to stare. And probably failing.
The guy was deeply tanned, which made his eyes really stand out. They were such a light blue, they were almost colorless. But even more striking was his hair. Thick blond dreadlocks had been knotted with colored thread, wooden beads, and tiny seashells. His shirt hung open, and the wireless speaker clipped to the waistband of his board shorts softly played surf rock.
“You’re Japanese?”
“Hai.” And laughing at himself, Akira added, “Yes. I am visiting from Japan.”
“Thought so! I’m American. Do you speak American?”
“I understand you, but I have a lot to learn. My words are clumsy.”
“I’m reading you loud and clear.” Smile lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes. “What should I call you?”
“My name is Akira. You can call me Akira.”
“Nice! I’m Rafter.” He turned to display the surfboard-shaped sign he held to his side. It was painted with purple daisies, with big blue letters spelling out RAFTER’S RENTALS. “Have you had much of a chance to look around?”
“This is my first day.”
“You’ll have a good day for it.” With an assessing look at the sky, Rafter said, “This’ll burn off in a couple of hours. Clear skies and a feisty breeze all day long.”
“Good.” Akira indicated the sign. “Do you rent surf boards?”
“No, but I know who can set you up if you’re interested. These are mine.” He pointed to a long line of sky-blue bicycles in a rack under the jacaranda trees. “They’re good for touring. I also have maps, and I can tell you where to get the good stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Glad you asked!” Rafter gestured broadly to the neighborhood. “Best ice cream. Best tacos. Best hamburgers. Best doughnuts. Best pizza.”
Akira laughed. “You like to eat?”
“Come to think of it, I do!” Rafter laughed in a good-natured way. “But more to the point, do you? International tourists always seem to be interested in American food.”
Based on the last few meals Akira had been served, he had to wonder if Fumiko ever got to eat pizza … or the kinds of crazy snacks Kimiko loved. Maybe he could smuggle in some junk food?
“I can also point the way to souvenir shops, dog parks, kite rentals, live bands, and bus tours. Anything you need.”
It was almost as if Rafter had set himself up as Wind-and-Tide’s concierge. Akira offered a grateful bow. “I will rely on your advice for as long as I am here.”
“Awesome.” The man pointed between them. “Can I hear you talk in Japanese?”
Akira didn’t mind. “If I’m late, Juuyu will worry, but I’m glad you introduced yourself. I wonder if you’d let me take a picture?”
Rafter asked, “Do I get the translation?”
He paraphrased, pulling out his phone and giving it a small shake. “For my friends back home,” he explained.
“Your friends are my friends!” Wrapping an arm around Akira’s shoulders, Rafter cheesed for a selfie. After, he presented his fist. “You know this one?”
They bumped fists.
But when Rafter drew his hand back, he wiggled his fingers and whispered, “Yeaaah!”
