My Kind of Town
>> Honolulu Iron Works Powers
Lily and Shauny polished off all the sashimi, filet mignon, prawns, chicken wings, fries and veggies that Ryan ordered with the pupu platter. Unfortunately, it was too late after seven glasses of white merlot, which followed a workout on an empty stomach. So their hangovers the next day would merely be apocalyptic, not apocalypse squared.
"Are you getting a buzz yet, Lil?!" Shauny said, standing up to use the ladies room, staggering.
"Pretty close!"
"I'm cutting you both off," Fawn said. "And I'm taking you home, both of you."
"You can't take both of us home!" Lily said. She lived in Hawaii Kai, Shauny in Pearl City, Fawn in Makiki.
"Yes, I can, and I will."
Ryan liked how Fawn set her jaw, took charge. That's when Lily's phone rang.
"H'lo?... Hi! Quinn, my gosh! I'm glad you called! I really need a cop right now!"
On the other end of the connection, Quinn recalled the faded gray sedan that followed Lily onto the freeway this morning after he pulled her her over for speeding. He called in the plates, but had been so busy when the senator's car went off the Keeaumoku overpass and then at the hate crimes bill rally melee at the Capitol, he'd forgotten to follow up.
Lily giggled and whimpered at the same time. "Quinn, I got drunk and I can't drive. I need a ride home ... You would? Oh thank you!" She hung up.
"You get to meet Quinn! He's coming to rescue me!"
Lily's phone rang again. "Oh, yeah," she giggled. "I forgot. I'm at the Honolulu Iron Works. In the restaurant."
"No," Fawn said. "In the front. You two are outa here."
"Didju hear that? OK, Quinn, see ya!"
>> State Capitol
Grace Ah Sun was not really psychic. But she had what some people called "powers." Heavy mana, from her Hawaiian side. At the moment, a definite uneasiness was coming over her. She didn't know why. Just knew something was not right, above and beyond her boss, Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka being out of touch for over two days, missing the end of the historic legislative session and then today his car crashing off the Keeaumoku overpass with a young woman inside, loaded on ice and stark naked.
That was work. Grace had thought when she'd taken this job five years ago that Donovan might one day be governor. She gave up that idea as of this day.
But this feeling was different, darker and much more personal. She would talk with Akua. And Pueo.
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin.
He can be emailed at dchapman@midweek.com