2019

It felt so cold in Chicago, I could have worn all three coats I packed at the same time and not flinched. And even if the entirety of the city stared at me in disbelief, I probably wouldn't have cared.

Nikau wasn't as affected by the chillier weather since temperatures dipped lower in Aotearoa than they did in Hawai'i. He watched me waddle my way through the streets of Chicago, wearing as many layers as I could without looking like the Michelin Tyre Man, even when they still left me shivering whenever the slightest hint of wind swept past us.

I felt like Dorothy being dropped inside Oz.

Since we arrived in the morning, it was too early to check in so we had to drop our bags off at bell services before heading out to join the rest of the city.

Everywhere I turned, something new and exciting lurked around the corner. Waikiki was the closest place I had to a city experience, but it could never measure up to a real, big city like Chicago. (Which was okay.) (Every city and town in Hawai'i had its charm that blended with the island, and I wouldn't have it any other way.) The city was home to skyscrapers as diverse as the people that inhabited it; my eyes didn't know where to look first. I wanted to soak all of it in as much as I could during the few days we were in Chicago.

"A plain hot dog?" I gawked. "You can't get a plain hot dog when you're in Chicago."

"I don't even know what's on a Chicago hot dog."

I turned to the vendor and said, "He'll have the same as me instead, please."

They didn't even flinch and immediately started making our order with the robotic familiarity of someone who made hundreds of these every day. Not two minutes later and they were ringing us up with a couple of drinks. Nikau and I walked over to an empty table and ate in blissful silence.

Even the sound of the city was different than anywhere I had experienced before. I was used to crashing waves, sand crunching beneath tires, and the rustles of leaves under a salty breeze. Chicago was the antithesis of all of those sounds and it took some getting used to, not letting myself drown under the weight of all this sensory overload.

"So, what's on the agenda?" I asked about halfway through our late lunch. If I could have paused the clock, I would. While it had only been half a day since we landed, my feet were already begging me to give them a break, and a nap would have been nice. I felt terrible for even thinking it because I didn't want to waste any time while we were here, but I wasn't a well-traveled person so it all took a lot out of me.

"I think Maverick is supposed to land sometime this afternoon, so we might be able to have dinner with him or something."

"Think?"

Nikau paused to finish chewing. "I've heard he has a thing about... timing. And booking flights."

"What kind of thing?"

"Just that he's late sometimes."

"Oh." I nodded. "Gotcha."

I didn't know the protocol for collaborating on a record or what went into booking a studio, but I assumed mindful timing was ideal. I also had no idea what kind of schedule someone like Maverick had, and it wasn't like it mattered to me either way. His lifestyle probably wove him a complicated web, and weaving himself in and out of it had to be difficult. As long as he made it there while we were in town, that was all that mattered.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us tomorrow?" he asked for the hundredth time. "He really won't mind."

I brushed him off as easily as I did every other time he had asked. "I think I'm gonna just hang out by myself. Maybe jump on the L and see where it takes me."

"Okay." He took a sip of his drink, leaving behind a speck of mustard on the straw. "If you ever change your mind. I'll send you the address."

The night before I left, Kanani helped me research the public transportation situation in Chicago, as well as create a list of activities I could do by myself while they were in the studio. As much fun as it would have been to witness the magic happen, I really didn't want to get in the way, despite how much Nikau insisted that I wouldn't. It also felt like a golden opportunity to test being in a new city somewhat by myself, even if it was only for a few hours. I didn't anticipate a solo trip on the horizon for me any time soon, so this seemed like the next best thing.

I pulled over Nikau's songwriting notebook he had laid out on the table while we were eating so he could go over the lyrics he had written again. He would never admit it out loud, but I could tell he was nervous about meeting Maverick and going into the studio with him tomorrow. This collaboration meant a lot to him for many different reasons. One of which was that it was his first big project, and to have it happen before he debuted, all because Maverick had stumbled across his covers on Youtube. More so, he was getting the chance to work with someone he deeply admired, someone whose music, which I had listened to exclusively on the flight over, could be heard in the songs Nikau had written for his album. Being inspired by someone and then getting to work with them was a dream come true, and I was just happy to be along for the ride, honestly.

The two of them had already been in communication with each other about the song over the past few weeks, so it wasn't as if they were walking into this recording session with completely blank slates. Nikau was tasked with working on his verse before he flew here, and while I had no doubt in my mind that Maverick would approve of it, it didn't stop him from second-guessing every little detail.

"I'm giving you three more minutes with this thing before I steal it," I said, running my fingers over the scraggly lines and committing every word to memory before handing the notebook back. "Far be it from me to be the one to tell you to stop overthinking, but I'll do it if I have to."

He smiled and shook his head before tucking it back into his navy blue backpack. "Fine. Only because I don't want to spill mustard on it."

"Or the rest of the hot dog." I glanced pointedly down at his plate which had seemingly collected most of his toppings that had fallen off. A stubborn dab of mustard was stuck above his top lip. "You've got some—" I pointed at the same area on my face.

"What?" He attempted to wipe it off, but he somehow kept missing it. "Gone?"

I shook my head and grabbed a napkin from the table, using it to dab it off for him. "There."

Nikau smiled and took the dirty napkin from me. "Thanks."

"I've never seen you this nervous," I stated.

"I don't get nervous." He looked at me. "I mean, a usual amount, I guess. Not enough that I can't focus on my work. But I also don't usually get to work with someone like Maverick so—"

"And you think he's not going to like what you wrote?" When he said nothing, I placed my hand over his, the one resting on top of the table. "Nikau, he wouldn't have asked you to collaborate if he didn't think you were good. He's going to like it. Love it."

He stared down at our hands, not saying anything for a moment. I didn't have time to process what I was doing or why I did it when I yanked my hand away as if his hand was an open flame. His fingers immediately curled in, trying to hold onto a ghost that was no longer there.

"I hope so," he said as he pulled his arm back.

...

From the moment Maverick walked through the door of the restaurant, twenty minutes past the time we had agreed to meet for dinner, I knew he was destined for greatness.

I wasn't quite sure exactly what it was, but it was often an unspoken, intangible quality about those kinds of people. Some people were just like that, even in those small moments when nothing exciting was happening. They had something about them that made it impossible to look away, made the mundane seem extraordinary. Being around them felt as if someone was playing a cruel trick on you because there was no way someone as cool as them could ever find anything interesting about silly old you. Nikau was a lot like that, too.

The worst part about them—or the best, depending on how you looked at it—was how completely immune to their greatness they were. They didn't choke on their insatiable pride or let it weigh them down like anchors in a restless sea, though, in the case of Maverick, his career would have given him plenty of opportunities to do so. Anything deemed enviable by those who had the pleasure of knowing them, or even just seeing them in passing, was just a charming trait they didn't need to work hard to possess.

They were difficult to dislike, even when they were late.

"I'm so sorry. I missed my flight and had to catch a later one. Barely made it here."

"It's alright, bro. Don't worry about it." Nikau stood up to hug Maverick hello. "How was the flight?"

I wasn't sure if I should follow since I had no idea how much Maverick knew of me. He seemed too busy to have a casual chit-chat about who Nikau was bringing with him to Chicago, and I wouldn't have expected Nikau to bring me up other than as a formality. I wasn't exactly a fan of someone bringing a guest with them to an outing as a surprise, so I would have hoped that wasn't the case here.

I decided against initiating an awkward hug or handshake and remained in my seat. Reading social cues was already difficult on its own, let alone in a completely new city with people I had never met before in my life. I would rather play it safe and not try anything than make a fool of myself. Maverick didn't seem bothered by it, and sat down in his seat after pulling away from Nikau, sending me a cordial wave as he did.

"I might have pissed off some of the flight attendants but I swear it wasn't my fault. My alarm wasn't set."

"You almost missed your second flight too?" I asked.

Either I thought I heard more judgment in my voice than there really was, or Maverick was a better actor than legend would have it. He barely blinked. "I thought I turned it on. I've been on the road lately so I needed a nap."

"How was the nap?"

"Sleeping on the floor against the wall in a terminal is not as comfortable as one might think."

"That doesn't seem comfortable at all."

"Exactly."

That would explain the hair. At least it was better than walking in with mismatched shoes, or not walking in at all.

"Unfortunately, you're going to have to make up for it," I said, as stone-faced as possible.

I wasn't what anyone would call intimidating by the slightest means, but Maverick went wide-eyed as he lowered his bag onto the empty chair next to him. He tugged on his jacket, exposing a The Smiths t-shirt underneath that looked like it had seen some better days. "Okay..."

"Is MARS really here? For the soundtrack?"

"That was—" He cleared his throat. "Just a rumor. I'm not... sure."

So that was a yes. He definitely wasn't an actor. "I will go back to being a wallflower after this but is there any way we could... meet them, or something?"

Considering I couldn't even bother with a hug, it came as a shock to find myself being this bold, but when I was faced with possibly meeting a Hawai'i-based band—a Grammy-nominated, Hawai'i-based band—I had to shoot my shot when the net was wide open.

"I haven't actually met them yet," he said. Took a sip of water that was really about half the glass. The server walked by immediately to refill it. (They were getting a nice tip.) "I'm not sure if I'm even going to get the chance to meet them. They're supposed to get here in a couple of days."

"So, they are coming then?"

"Hypothetically speaking. If they were. I wouldn't be sure." He looked to Nikau to save him. "Sorry. For being late... and any other reason I might have to say sorry for."

"Subtle." Nikau laughed.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"That would've been really cool, though," I said.

Not that I was trying to be a grump about it or like meeting Maverick wasn't exciting enough as it was. In the last couple of minutes, Nikau's mood had already shifted from the nervousness plaguing him earlier. And when he was happy, I was happy.

Still. Meeting them, or even just catching a glimpse of them as they walked by in the hotel lobby, would have been cool.

"Nik said you're Hawaiian like the lead singer?" I nodded. "She's nice. Shouted out What I Never Said to You the other week. Stevie something."

"I love her." Not that I knew her. A girl could dream.

"If I can sneak an introduction, I'll do my best."

I smiled at him. "Thank you. No worries if you can't. You two are going to be busy tomorrow."

Maverick shook his head as if he suddenly remembered why we were all in Chicago. "Have you seen any of Keira's films? I'm still in disbelief that she asked me to contribute to the soundtrack. Plan A is one of my favorites."

To say that movie had taken on another meaning in my life since I had gotten my own abortion would be an understatement. The way Nikau's hand immediately landed on my lap under the table wasn't a lifeline I needed, but it was still appreciated, and I didn't exactly shoo it away either.

"Mine too," I said. I didn't know why I was so worried he could somehow read between the lines. (It wasn't as if I was afraid to admit anything.) (I just needed some time before I opened up about it and that was completely okay.) When someone spent their life weaving together some of the most stunning lyrics ever written, it was hard not to think he could pick apart anything I said and turn it into something poetic. "Is this your first time doing something like this?"

He nodded. "I'm just glad Nik let me drag him into this mess with me."

It occurred to me then that Nikau was uncharacteristically quiet since Maverick arrived. Or maybe Maverick was just good at making me uncharacteristically chatty. Either way, the man in question watched on silently while I tried not to worry about saying the wrong thing or bulldozing over him getting to meet one of his favorite artists for the first time.

As easily as his hand had slipped onto my lap, it drifted away, leaving me behind in a cold draft, until his arm landed on the back of my chair. "Happy to be here, man."