Vagabond Heart
Book one in the Pearl Harbor Series
Gay prostitute Tinder McCartney thought he had it made in WWII Honolulu…until true love and an attack on Pearl Harbor turned his life upside down.
Tinder McCartney is the only gay male prostitute working in Honolulu, HI during World War II. Like the 200 female prostitutes who live and work on Hotel Street, he services the armed forces drifting in and out of the islands. His life and work are controlled by the local police, yet because the cops don't think that there can be that many ‘depraved' men wanting the comfort of another man, Tinder is not only busy, but often in danger.
Living by very strict rules enforced by the police, Tinder cannot own or drive a car or bicycle, can't ride street cars or be seen in the company of other men. He can't visit bars or restaurants or swim at Waikiki Beach. Savagely attacked by two men one night, he is rescued by a local businessman, Jason Qui, the son of a Chinese immigrant and a former New England missionary.
Jason is not Tinder's usual type. But Jason offers to protect and house him. It seems like the ideal business arrangement until Tinder's Vagabond Heart can no longer handle the arrangement… and then on December 7, 1941, Pearl Harbour is attacked, turning the entire world upside down.
Gypsy Heart
Book two in the Pearl Harbor Series
Tinder McCartney thought he left behind his life as a gay male prostitute but soon learns returning to his old life may be the only way to save the man he loves…Tinder McCartney and his lover, Jason Qui, are adjusting to life in war-torn Hawaii following the attack on Pearl Harbor. Settling at first in Maui with Tinder's father, they go back to Honolulu to meet with members of the new military government regarding their plans to blow up a major access road in Lahaina that would leave the islanders in Maui stranded and without access to much-needed shipments coming into the island.
Back in Honolulu, Tinder and Jason are dismayed to see how much their beloved home has changed in just a few short weeks. Jason accepts a dangerous sea mission feeling that as a Chinese immigrant, he needs to prove his loyalty to the US. He and the crew of the ship disappear, and are presumed to have been taken by Japanese forces.
Tinder must decide what to do to help his lover. When presented with the opportunity to return to his old way of life in exchange for information that will help him rescue his lover, he must decide how far he is willing to go to heal his gypsy heart and save the man he loves…
Reader Advisory: This book is best read in sequence as part of a series
General Release Date: 16th April 2012
Vagabond Heart
Honolulu, Hawaii. Monday, July 7, 1941
He looked so nervous. He licked his lips, his glance shifting from me to the sparse furnishings and back again. I knew he wanted me. He’d been waiting for hours. Now he was here, it was as if he felt too big when the room was so small. He kept his shoulders stooped when there was no need. My cubicle was half of a divided room, the other half partitioned by thin wood and curtains. Outside, I could hear the noises made by the rowdy men still waiting in line, competing with the hucksters of Chinatown trying to hawk everything from jewellery to photos with hula girls.
Curfew was coming.
The sense of urgency gave an edge to the restless laughter. The smell of charbroiled pork wafted up to us from the Chinese café opposite my room on River Street. I stepped towards Howard, his heated gaze stayed on me.
I was nervous too. I could feel his tension, but also his excitement. I heard the radio go on from somewhere downstairs. Glenn Miller performed Three Little Fishes.
“It’s all right, Howard,” I said, drawing down the blind a little more. “You’re with me now.”
He jumped when I said his name. I’d only been trying to relax him. I was pleased at least that it appeared to be his real name. The darkened room hid a lot of things, except the strong smell of disinfectant. I’d tried to disguise it with waterlilies I’d picked after my morning swim at the Natatorium. All I could smell now was pork. There was nothing I could do about that. He put his glass down on the small chest of drawers beside the bed. I was worried it would leave a ring mark, but was more worried about him. His cock looked hard in his pants. I didn’t want him to leave unsatisfied.
Howard licked his lips again.
I ran my hand down the front of his white duck pants. I was relieved he had such a nice big one.
As I got to my knees, I looked up at him. “Oh, Howard, this is such a surprise.”
He grinned then, giving me his full attention. It didn’t take long to liberate him from his pants. His cock leaked as I lightly ran my thumb over the tip. I squeezed. Outside, I could hear new music...from the saloon across the street. When the bar music kicked up, it meant it was time for the four-drink dose of Island Gin. The lethal, imitation brew was handed out to US servicemen every hour as they stood in line. It kept them buzzed, kept them spending, kept them in line.
There were lines for food, lines for booze, lines for sex...
Howard jumped when I leant closer to his thighs and went to work. He didn’t smell clean, but I didn’t care. I had three minutes and this boy was read to pop. I fondled his balls, licked his shaft and he gasped when I smothered that huge cock head with my whole mouth.
“Oh God!” he yelled.
Somebody from the cubicle next door also used the Lord’s name in vain. I milked Howard for all he was worth. His knees trembled and I released him, swallowing his load.
“Thank you, Terry,” he said, a tear in his eye. “You’re a nice man.”
I held him back until the man from the cubicle next door shuffled down the stairs and out to Hotel Street. Milaina, the housekeeper, knocked softly at my door. She made herself scarce as we approached. I let Howard out.
“I’ll be back,” he said. “Next pay day. You’ll see, Terry.” He mouthed thank you again.
I handed him his glass. Not that he needed his horrible gin, he was pretty liquored up still, but damn it, he’d paid for it.
I didn’t respond in case anyone was listening. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, the guys still waiting to come up were none the wiser that Howard, the Marine, had just spent his three bucks on a male whore.
And for me, my first trick ever wasn’t bad. It wasn’t bad at all.
Gypsy Heart
Wailuku, Maui
Saturday, December 20th, 1941
“It’s not fair. It’s not fair. Why can’t I go?”
I watched Linda, my father’s wife, sobbing as she filled the bathtub with water. Not for any of us to bathe, but in case our water supply was cut off. I could hear the incessant babble of the radio in the living room, as well as my father and my lover talking in low, worried tones.
We’d just heard the latest rumours were that the islands’ waterlines could be poisoned.
“Sometimes I wish we didn’t have to listen to the news,” Linda said. “Sometimes I just want to forget all this.” She shot a vicious glance out the door in my father’s direction.
“And he wants to stay here.”
I was bewildered. She’d been angry for days that my father hadn’t caved in to her demands to travel to Honolulu and get themselves squeezed onto the special-evacuation ship bound for San Francisco, the first one since Pearl Harbor’s bombing.
Linda—I couldn’t call her ‘Mom’ even though my father wanted me to—leant back on her haunches and wiped her teary eyes with the back of her hands.
“I hate this life,” she said. “I didn’t sign up for this. I bet they have wonderful food on the ship. I bet they have oodles of chocolate.”
None of us signed up for this, I wanted to say, but didn’t.
As usual, I had no response, no words of comfort for her. She’d been sleeping with my father when he was married to my mother. As she lay dying in bed of cancer, my father’s affections had transferred over to Linda. Once she’d passed, they didn’t even observe a respectable period of mourning. At the first hint of war, they’d escaped Honolulu and the busy life there for slower-paced Maui. They’d had grand plans...and then Pearl Harbor was attacked.
We were now at war with Japan. Linda still seemed to be in shock.
It had been thirteen days since the horrific bombing of Pearl Harbor. My father had called and begged me and my lover, Jason Qui, to come to Maui. We’d arrived by boat a few days before and I was surprised by how badly Linda was handling her new circumstances. Things weren’t easy for any of us, but we were, I felt, among the lucky ones.
Though Maui was an island away from Oahu, the threat of a new Japanese attack was always present. Here she was at seven o’clock in the morning, running water into the tub in case we needed it for survival.
“All those lucky people leaving,” she said.
I’d seen the photographs in the newspapers of screaming families rushing to get off the island. I’d even recognised a few of my former Hotel Street co-workers. Me? I’m an island guy. I’m in it for the long haul.
I pulled back the black curtain that was nailed over the window each night.
All our evening meals were served in the bathroom these days because its window was the only one that could be blacked out, so I was comfortable sitting in there with her.
I sat on the toilet, lid down, trying to be chummy and reassuring.
“Well, it’s just a precaution,” I reminded her. “We haven’t been poisoned yet.”
She gave me a fierce glare.
“Just a precaution,” she mimicked.
I said nothing. I knew she hated her new part-time job at the post office, but with all the able-bodied men being put to work in shipyards, supply depots and other essential civilian positions, she and all the other local women were being asked to pitch in.
The sugar mills, one of Maui’s biggest industries, had temporarily shut down, their workers encouraged to join the military. They either enlisted or worked on various local projects such as digging holes for the new bomb shelters as mandated by our ruling military government. Everybody was put to good use.
She got up and walked into the living room. I followed her. She picked up one of the gas masks that had been brought to us the day before by Army officers sent from the US military bases in Honolulu. There was talk of them setting up an Army base right here in Wailuku. They had told us we were supposed to carry our gas masks everywhere. She looked at the thing with total disgust, dropping it back on the sideboard.
Linda looked out of the windows and up at the sky. I wondered what she dreamt about each night. I dreamt of Oahu and I thought about my beloved island home incessantly during the day. It was hard not to, since Honolulu, its main city, and the devastating attack on Pearl Harbor were still on everyone’s minds.
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