My Kind of Town
>> Portlock Fresh bedding
Mickey went straight to the kitchen, opened the fridge and was disappointed to not see even one beer, just a corked bottle of white wine, nearly full. Mickey was not a chardonnay guy. But hey, when in Portlock do what the Portlockians do.
These big homes usually have a master bedroom -- he'd broken into enough of them -- and sure enough, he found the master bedroom, a very feminine one, at the end of the hall.
In the laundry room between the kitchen and the garage, Rosalita Resurreccion pulled a load of sheets and pillow slips from the washer and headed for the line in back. Miss Lily liked her sheets to be naturally dried and fresh-smelling. "It's one of the best things about living in Hawaii," Miss Lily said. Having come from the Philippines a year ago,Rosalita could think of many things about living in Hawaii better than fresh-smelling sheets. But she would have these sheets freshly dried and on Miss Lily's bed before she came home.
>> Honolulu Iron Works
"Tough day," Lt. Col. Chuck Ryan said, sympathetic.
"Tell me," Lily Ah Sun said, and took a sip of her sixth glass of white merlot. "My father crushes my dreams, tells me I'm not worthy of running the company, which instead he's turning over to my fresh-out-of-school baby brother. And I meet the man of my dreams but he turns out to be my damn cousin." Lily drained the glass and set it down heavily. "Hey, Dave, one more round, OK?"
"So what's your business, Chuck?" Fawn said. She was bored with her sister and her friend's drunken lunch, and was genuinely interested in this older man who seemed such an officer and a gentleman, not to mention so lean and hard.
It was the inevitable question. Ryan had a number of stock replies. Each was a lie. That went with his work. Still, Ryan preferred to think of himself not as a man of lies, but of euphemisms.
"Investments, mostly, and some headhunting."
"I'll bet you do!" Shauny said with a salacious laugh and she and Lily collapsed in drunken giggles.
"Shauny!" Fawn said, her voice rising. "Please!" .
"Maybe," she said to Ryan, shaking her head at the drunken duo, "you could tell me more when we don't have to babysit these two."
That was Ryan's hope all along. Fawn was religious, patriotic. The kind of person who would love to serve her country. Well, he had other hopes when it came to Fawn. But one thing at a time.
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin.
He can be emailed at dchapman@midweek.com