Kelekalia’s eyes followed the last taxi as the porter slammed the trunk shut. She straightened the artificial petals on her wrist while the porter hoisted the luggage inside. The empty taxis drove out of the ʻAilana Kai Resort's porte-cochère leaving her with her co-workers under the veranda. The mid-morning heat pressed against her skin, making the fake grass skirt stick uncomfortably to her thighs.

She crowded beside the two women while shifting her weight onto one hip. The frayed petals dropped off her toned wrist for dear life before the itchiness they caused threatened to create welts. She slipped them into her hand as her free hand scratched her irritated skin. Her taupe brown eyes narrowed on the horizon as if trying to guess when the next round of guests arrived. The scent of plumeria from nearby trees mixed with the salt air from the ocean beyond the resort.

Leihua—a stout woman— shoved a stray petal back into the lei box. Her jaw tightened upon breaking the silence. “Another round of this, huh?” She sniffled with indignation. “I came to hula, not play ‘Welcome Committee’, again.” Her broad fingers lingered on the faded petals of the new garlands as she divided them among them. The sound of her frustration was underscored by the faint strains of Hawaiian music coming from the resort speakers.

The shortest and youngest of the hula dancers, Mahina, exhaled. Her shoulders dropped low, mirroring Kelekalia’s pinched expression. Her lips pressed into a harsh line. “Exactly, and half the time, they're shoving cameras in our faces. I swear if we show up on postcards...” Her voice trailed off with a sound halfway between a laugh and a groan.

Kelekalia enveloped Mahina in a side hug then dropped her arm. “...It's exhausting...” Her fingers brushed against Mahina's warm skin, a brief comfort against their shared frustration.

Exhausting defined their circumstances too lightly. Everything about this grated on her nerves as much as her friends'. The fake hospitality, the performative aloha, the constant invasion of privacy—all while watching her people's lands disappear under concrete and luxury developments.

Every month, another group of wide-eyed guests arrive on the islands for their ‘dream vacations’. While she favored them over the film crews and business men who only view the land with dollar signs, their ignorance annoyed her. Few cared to know the real Hawai'i. All their bodies did was raise their cameras while the locals played into their fantasies with rehearsed ‘Alohas’.

She doubted any of them knew ‘Aloha’ meant more than ‘hi’. It meant love, affection, peace, compassion, and mercy—the very things being stripped from her people along with their lands.

Kelekalia tugged at her skirt, smoothing the folds of the fake grass. A bead of sweat rolled down her spine,痒痒 and persistent. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand then gave Leihua and Mahina a quick smile. “Pono promised these will be our last guests for the day.”

She used one of her index fingers to trace a circle in the air. “Then we'll have freedom until the dinner show.” Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed her coworkers relax slightly at this news, their shoulders losing some of their tension.

Then, on cue, a new line of taxis crossed the horizon. Kelkalia inhaled deeply, the salt air filling her lungs as she collected her nerve before squaring her shoulders. She adjusted the leis back into her hand and whispered, “Big smiles, wāhine.”

In synchronized motions, their professional smiles brightened as the first door swung open. The faint strains of pahu drums from the resort speakers prompted Kelekalia’s hips to sway to its subtle rhythm, muscle memory from years of performance taking over.

A trio of men dressed in broad shorts and Hawaiian shirts climbed out eager for their leis. The hula dancers decorated their necks with leis before a porter ushered them inside. Their cologne clashed with the natural scents of the islands, sharp and artificial.

With the next two taxis, the routine repeated. A couple on their honeymoon, their hands constantly touching. A rich heiress and her gaggle of friends on a graduation adventure, their laughter loud and entitled. Kelekalia could guess the people who emerge from the taxis at this point—she'd seen them all before.

Her gaze danced over the retreating guests then paused on the final taxi door as it opened. Kelekalia held her breath, eyes drawn to a woman barely concealed by the door. She searched for any sign that the woman was taken or married, praying for neither. There was something different in the way she carried herself, a curiosity that extended beyond the usual tourist fascination.

Her lips curved into a more genuine smile as she focused her attention on the newcomer. Single female tourists distracted her enough from how much she loathed this farce, this performance of aloha for people who would never truly understand its meaning.

Kelekalia leaned forward slightly, invitingly, as the guest approached and let their eyes lock. Fingers brushing against the soft petals, she draped the lei around the woman's neck, the fragrance of plumeria momentarily masking the artificial scents of the resort. Kelekalia’s amused hum filled the space between them in their close proximity. Her fingers lingered just long enough to adjust the flowers before pulling away, the warmth of the woman's skin lingering on her fingertips.

“Aloha,” she greeted, her tone honeyed with the practiced warmth of hospitality that masked her true feelings. “I hope you enjoy your stay at ʻAilana Kai Resort, Ms. ...?” She paused with an unspoken request for the woman's name, her taupe eyes assessing, curious, already wondering what secrets this tourist might carry beneath her obvious fascination with the island paradise.