I felt sorry for him.
He came every night, dressed in a suit or a tuxedo, but they'd never let him in. He never gave up; he'd stand there a foot away from the doorman, periodically asking if the owner would see him."The boss says, not tonight, Keala." The doorman gently placed his hand on Keala's shoulder. "Not tonight."
Just at the arrival of the first light, he'd shake hands with the doormen, each one, then he'd leave. It was like this every night. Finally, I had to know what the deal was, so I bugged the doormen to tell me the deal with this guy who came every night dressed to the nines, knowing that he'd never be allowed in. Keala Kuo used to be a headliner at the Lana Mālie Club. He was the toast of the town with his unique rendering of Hawaiian music. His hula dancers were mesmerizing, and his one true love, Pi'ilani, was his prize hula soloist. She was also the owner's wife.
As stories like this go, it didn't end up well for Keala, and he was bounced from the club at the height of his fame and fortune. Other clubs that learned of Keala's situation offered their clubs to him as his new home, but without Pi'ilani. Her husband, Charles Basque, was a known mobster, and no one wanted the kind of trouble that came with being his wife. Keala's unfortunate answer was that it was Pi'ilani or nothing.
It ended up being nothing.
After, Keala could only get gigs at weddings, retirement parties, baby showers, and lū'au. If he was lucky, the occasional mainland convention in Waikiki picked Keala up for a gig and a one-time huge payout. It wasn't the lifestyle that Pi'ilani hoped for, so she went back to Charles and literally got down on her hands and knees to be taken back. A few months later, a record producer approached Keala for an album deal, which Keala gladly accepted. However, unaware that he should have hired a lawyer, Keala signed his music away. The album sold like hotcakes. The producer made the lion's share of the money, Keala ended up making seventy-three cents at a sold-out concert at the old H.I.C. The only way he could make money on his own was to tour and go everywhere he could travel up and down the island chain, and in particular locations on the mainland. The contract was so air-tight that Keala couldn't even hire his own hula dancers because of the non-fraternization clause. Word got out regarding Keala's previous situation with Pi'ilani. The powers that be didn't want that situation anymore.
Eventually, Keala achieved enough financial success to buy his own club. He called it "Kuo's."
It became the place to see and be seen among the Hawaiian and local crowd. From everyday people to notables and the like, Kuo's was always packed to the rafters, and it was never short of hula persons who were always ready to dance on a whim. One evening, while singing Kauoha Mai on the stage, Keala saw Pi'ilani sitting among the crowd. She was older, rubenesque, her hair still as raven colored as the night, wearing a one-piece jumpsuit. Around her were younger girls like herself when Keala first met her, dressed similarly to Pi'ilani. Keala knew they were her hula halau. The natural thing to do at that point was to play a song that Pi'ilani's dancers could hula to. Instead, Keala sang the song that Pi'ilani loved the most from back in the day. Keala learned to play it himself so he could sing it to her. So sing it, he did.
"Quiet nights and quiet stars, quiet chords on my guitar.."
When the song was nearly done, and Keala, who was enraptured with singing it, opened his eyes, he saw Pi'ilani and her dancers occupying the floor in front of him, doing a hula to their song. At the end, the dancers lined up to thank Keala for playing the music and for allowing them to perform. The last girl before Pi'ilani caught Keala's attention. Pi'ilani saw this and held Keala close.
"That's Lana," Pi'ilani whispered. "As far as she knows, she's Charles' daughter. Let's leave it that way, okay?"
Keala said nothing as he watched the daughter he never knew he had walk out of the club and out of his life. It was the one and only time Pi'ilani let Keala see his daughter.
"That was the beginning of the end for Kuo's and Keala. He got arrested for attempted murder later, trying to kill Charles and take him out of the picture," the doorman said. "My boss said that Pi'ilani was no good for Keala, and that she ruined him by letting him see Lana."
"So, now he's out of prison, trying to get into his old club?" I asked the doorman.
"Lana is the owner of the club now," the doorman began. "Her parents are gone, and she has no idea who this old Hawaiian man is who's constantly trying to get into her club for free."
"She doesn't know? Is no one going to tell her?" I asked.
Just then, Keala came walking up, dressed in his usual tuxedo. Trying yet again to be allowed in. Again, he's told to wait, and by the near beginning of the next sunrise, he'll be told that this isn't the time. Just then, a Maybach drives up and Lana gets out. Before the doormen can do anything, Keala has Lana by her hand, asking in all kindness if he'd be allowed entrance into the club. Lana takes a look at him and nods. She signals to the doorman to open the portal and let them through. The doormen are taken aback, but they do it anyway.
In a week, Keala is the filler musician on Tuesday and Thursday evenings, backing up the house band on rhythm guitar. On Mondays, Keala leads Hawaiian music night.
One night, the doorman couldn't help but ask Lana why she suddenly took Keala in and gave him so much?
"That man is my father," Lana replied. "He went to jail for something that wasn't his fault, something that my late mother is to blame for. It's the least I could do. Also, is this the man you kept telling me about, the one you guys wouldn't let into the club? The one you kept turning away?"
"Yes," the doorman answered.
"Consider yourself fired," Lana deadpanned.
***
Lana sits in the audience, enjoying the man her father is, never ever telling him she knows his identity, but instead giving him the dignity to be the person he was meant to be. A Hawaiian musician who literally channels his music and brings it to life. In a few years, Lana bought another club and gave the one she owned to Keala, but she rebranded it soon thereafter as Lana Kuo.
Keala went on to play Hawaiian music until he could no longer do so. At the end of his life, with Lana and her children surrounding him, he promised to watch over them constantly. In the lobby in a class case, was Keala's favorite 'ukulele, which some of the club employees claimed to have heard and seen play itself.
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