My Kind of Town
Vol. 1: The Honolulu Soap Co.
>>Wilder at Clement, Metcalf and Farrington Waking up
Appearing to check his tires' air pressure, the driver of the faded gray sedan did not notice the black SUV pulling up to the other side of pump No. 3. of the Arco station. The big guy in the backseat started to get out.
"Easy, brah," the SUV driver said, nodding toward a motorcycle cop laughing with a woman in a teal BMW, both ignoring the flashing blue light.
"No big t'ing. We got him now. An' he don't even know it."
>>Eden Off Kuhio
Lance Ah Sun slowly awoke, stretched and then heard the sound of the shower running. The bed felt extra good this morning. Maybe it's because he'd finally decided to be totally honest with himself and everyone else.
But Lance always felt so secure here at Greg's place. This was the one place where he could be himself, without worrying about his parents or one of their friends seeing the real Lance.
Every time he entered the grounds of Eden Off Kuhio, he relaxed. Over the years, gay men had bought the majority of units at a timeshare condo once called the Terrace or Park or something equally generic, and took over the board of directors. While these men made good neighbors and tended to be sticklers for cleanliness and neatness, being surrounded by gays made some people uncomfortable, especially being surrounded by gays hanging out at the pool in their Speedos, and the straight folks all eventually sold out to other gays. Today, the redesigned and re-landscaped Eden is just that for gay men, their private residential community.
At least it became Eden once they got past the nasty little spat over whether to tear out the children's playground left from the old days to put in a steam room. The steamers eventually won out over the monkey-barophiles.
Lance heard the water stop running in the shower, the curtain flung open. Lance might have stayed in his little closet forever. But now that he'd found Greg, he wanted only to love openly and without fear. He wanted to get married. A big wedding with his family and everyone there.
"Good morning," he called. "Greg, I have to tell you something. I hope you'll like it."
>>Tomorrow: The scent of gardenia
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin.
He can be emailed at dchapman@midweek.com