My Kind of Town

by Don Chapman

Friday, June 29, 2001

Kissing cousins

>> Makiki Heights

Inside the house, they could hear footsteps, muttering, cursing, a toilet flushing. Unfortunately, Detective Sherlock Gomes didn't have a search warrant.

He was only here to ask about Serena Kawainui. Detective Gomes knocked on the door again, harder this time, and turned to Star-Bulletin extreme photographer Johnny B. Goo. "He threw the beer bottle at you?"

"Yep. Not a bad arm -- for a guy who's totally wasted."

Sherlock Gomes turned back to the door. Knocked again. "Senator, it's the police. Open up."

He turned to writer Cruz MacKenzie. "How did you find out the senator was up here?"

"Tip from a reader."

"Why didn't they call HPD?"

"You didn't write a Page One story asking 'Where's Donovan?'"

"Good point."

They heard footsteps from inside the house, the bolt being unlocked.

>> Maunalua Bay

You really couldn't say who initiated the kiss.

Quinn's lips met Lily's halfway. Tentatively at first, just a brushing of lips, almost accidental, but only for a moment because this felt too perfect, too right, that wonderful combination of new and familiar, and the kiss grew and changed, lips and tongues, fevered breaths, and groping hands, Lily pulling Quinn's hips to her, feeling a growing sign of his affection, Quinn lightly touching Lily's chin with his fingers, brushing a strand of silky black hair from her cheek.

And suddenly coming up for air, pulling back. "My God, Lily, whoa. Whoa whoa. We can't do this."

"I'm sorry." She should have felt guilt, but all she felt was disappointment.

"No. I'm the one who's sober, the designated responsible one. I'm sorry."

She suddenly brightened. "That's right, eh?" Teasing now. "You're the sober one. I'm drunk and not responsible for my actions. This wasn't my fault at all!"

"Actually, I was hoping it was mutual. You think we could share a little blame."

"Just like when we were kids? Sure, Quinn." She took a breath, looked up at him, wanting only to lip-lock again. "It was very mutual."

"I'd hate to be the only one."

And so they slowly disentangled knowing this kiss and this feeling was what they each wanted, but also knowing this had to be the last time. The one and only. A wonderful moment which must never be repeated.

Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin
with weekly summaries on Sunday.
He can be emailed at

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