I Heart Hawaii

‘Have you brought me to a restaurant where I have to catch my own fish before I can eat?’

‘Technically, only if that’s what you order,’ she replied, hitting me with her biggest, brightest smile. ‘But I ordered ahead so that is what you’re going to do, yes.’

‘I am going to die,’ I muttered, gripping Roberto’s arm tightly as I boarded. ‘I cannot believe you brought me here.’

‘You’re so welcome,’ Jenny said happily, taking my hand and completely missing my point. ‘It was not easy to get a reservation, believe me. But nothing’s too good for girls’ night, not for my Angie.’

I eyed her suspiciously. She was definitely up to something.

‘I’ll bet you one hundred dollars that one of us falls in the water before the night is over,’ I replied, entirely unamused as we rowed across the moat. ‘There’s no way we’re getting in and out of a place that serves booze and has a moat without one of us ending the evening piss-wet through.’

‘Jeez, would you relax?’ she huffed. ‘This is the hottest restaurant in the world right now, it’s booked up for months. Someone at work offered to get me into the Met Gala if I gave them our slot tonight.’

‘Are you serious?’ I asked. ‘You passed up tickets to the Met Gala so we could fish for our dinner in Gowanus?’

Jenny shook out her lion’s mane of chocolate-brown curls as the boat completed its brief journey and hit dry land. ‘It isn’t what it used to be,’ she muttered as Roberto the golden-trunked gondolier helped her out of the boat. ‘It’s all Kardashian-Jenners these days. At best, you get Rihanna. Who tried to get a reservation here and couldn’t, by the way.’

‘Here we go again,’ I replied, wobbling up and out. ‘When will you stop the one-upmanship with Rihanna?’

‘When she admits I gave her the idea for Fenty Beauty,’ Jenny snapped. ‘You were there, you know it’s true.’

‘If you’re talking about the time you were so wasted you lunged at her when she was leaving Philippe Chow and told her she was really hot and she should “do something with makeup”, then, yes, I was there.’

With a dismissive huff, Jenny turned on her heel and walked off up the dock and into the forest.

The restaurant whose name I had already forgotten was beyond. There was lush green grass beneath my feet, a dusky sky complete with fluffy clouds above my head. I didn’t understand it and I didn’t care to. Now I was out the murder tunnel and on dry land, the only thing I could think about was food. I ducked to avoid a head-on collision with a passing butterfly as a beautiful redhead in full Geisha get-up tiptoed through the cherry trees towards us.

‘Good evening, ladies,’ the woman said, bowing her head slightly. ‘We are so pleased you could join us on the island. I have you at one of our riverside tables this evening. Please follow me.’

At least the ‘Riverside’ bit made sense now.

I didn’t dare ask if her ensemble was cultural appropriation as we followed her to our table because I was fairly certain it was and I was too hungry to get thrown out. She led us down a winding pathway through the trees until we reached a small table, right next to the water. I could see other tables dotted around the forest but the perpetual twilight meant I couldn’t quite make out anyone else’s face. I made a mental note to have a nose when I went to the toilet, just in case there were any proper celebs in attendance.

‘Wait,’ I said, clutching my non-existent pearls as Jenny took her seat and immediately started fannying about with the fishing pole resting next to her chair. ‘Where are the toilets?’

‘Our lounge is through the forest and over the bridge,’ the waitress replied, waving a graceful arm over yonder. ‘It is gender neutral and paperless. Tonight we will start with our signature cocktail and feel free to begin fishing at your leisure. Please let me know if you require assistance on your journey.’

With a soft smile and a gentle nod, she disappeared back into the trees.

‘This place is so very you,’ I told Jenny, allowing her to believe it was a compliment. The restaurant, like my friend, was the very definition of the word ‘extra’. ‘What happens if I don’t catch a fish? What happens if I do catch a fish? And what does she mean by a paperless toilet?’

‘Half of me never wants to know and half of me so does. There’s no menu, by the way. Everything other than the fish you catch is omakase, chef’s specials, OK?’

‘Not really but sure,’ I replied, trying not to stare into the water. There. Was. An. Actual. Fish. ‘So, I haven’t seen you in a million years. What’s going on with you?’

There was a time when I knew absolutely every thought that went through Jenny’s head. Back when we lived together and spent all our nights watching America’s Next Top Model and mainlining Ben & Jerry’s, there wasn’t a single second of a single day when I didn’t know where she was, why she was there and what or who she was doing. Even when I’d moved in with Alex, we’d still managed to see each other all the time but, ever since Alice had come along, the amount of time I had to hang out with my friends, even my best, best friend, had been obliterated.

‘Everything. Everything is going on,’ she said, grabbing her napkin and flicking it out onto her lap. I did the same, knocked a pair of chopsticks off my plate and watched them roll onto the floor, down the bank and into the river. The evening was off to an excellent start. ‘I’ve finally figured it out. I know how I’m gonna become the next Oprah.’

Jenny had been plotting to dethrone Ms Winfrey ever since we met. There was not a single woman on this earth who owned as many self-help books, went to as many workshops or generally went around giving out unsolicited advice. Not that I was complaining about her fabulous fairy godmother routine, it always worked out a treat for me. Well, almost always.

‘Tell me everything.’

Jenny’s beautiful face lit up with an excitement usually reserved for sample sales, Tom Hardy and other people’s dogs.

‘I’m starting a podcast!’ she said, throwing her arms in the air, narrowly missing what looked awfully like Alec Baldwin’s face by roughly three millimeters. ‘Isn’t it the greatest idea you’ve ever heard?’

‘Oh my god, it is!’ I gasped as she did a happy dance in her seat, inching ever closer to the edge of the water. I utched my own chair a few inches back towards safety. ‘You’re a genius.’

‘So, I was running a few days ago and listening to a podcast and I was, like, dude, I should have a podcast! And now I’m officially a media mogul.’

‘To be honest, I expected a more dramatic story,’ I admitted, one eye on the fish that was having a good poke around at my submerged chopsticks. ‘Does it have a name?’

Jenny tapped her fingers against the table in a mini drumroll.

‘It’s called … “Tell Me About It with Jenny Lopez”,’ she announced. ‘I’m going to interview interesting people and get them to, you know, tell me about stuff. I already asked a bunch of people. It’s going to be amazing.’

‘I am so excited for you,’ I said, meaning it completely. This was so entirely perfect for her, I couldn’t believe we hadn’t thought of it sooner. A microphone, a platform and a completely captive audience? She’d be president within a decade.

‘I still have a few things to figure out.’ She smiled at the waitress as she returned with two tall glasses of clear liquid that did not look even slightly like proper food. ‘Like a studio and an editor and all the marketing, social media and graphic design. But other than that, I’m good to go.’

‘Other than that,’ I said, ignoring the tiny warning bells that had started ringing.

‘And I don’t know if you would know this but do you have any idea how you actually get a podcast online?’ she asked, not a trace of irony on her face. ‘Do I just send it to the podcast people and they do it all?’

Ring-ding-ding-ding-ding.

‘Podcast people?’

‘Ladies, this is a Chu-Hai Spritz,’ the waitress said, setting the glasses down on the table. A fat lychee bobbed around in the top of each cocktail. ‘Your first tastes will be out soon.’

I really hoped my first taste would be a full pizza.

‘So, you’re starting a podcast but you don’t know how to record a podcast, market a podcast or share a podcast?’ I asked.

Jenny shook her head and pushed her drink away.

‘Is that lychee in there? I hate lychees. Oh, and I’m taking over EWPR while Erin and Thomas are in London. I guess I’m going to be really busy over the next few months.’

I grabbed my cocktail and took a deep, much-needed drink. ‘I didn’t know Erin and Thomas were planning a trip to London. How long are they off for?’

Jenny’s eyes widened for a second.

‘She hasn’t told you?’ she said, her voice lifted by surprise. ‘They’re moving. Thomas got transferred, they’re leaving right after July Fourth.’

Erin wasn’t just Jenny’s boss at Erin White Public Relations, she was also one of our best friends. This was a lot to process on an empty stomach. I glanced off into the forest to see where our waitress was hiding. Just how much trouble would we get into if I broke out the emergency mini Twix I was hiding in my handbag?

‘It’s supposedly only for a year,’ Jenny added. ‘But she wants me to take over completely while they’re away. Acting president.’