My Kind of Town
The Honolulu Soap Co.:
Sunday digest>>Maunalua Bay
Walking back to his truck, Lily Ah Sun stumbles on a rock and her cousin Quinn catches her. Totally innocent. But there in the comfort of his arms, Lily buries her face in his chest as her hands run up the V from narrow waist past rock-hard lats to broad shoulders, and back down his muscled back, and pulls his hips to her. And his hands draw gentle swirls on her white silk suit jacket, from her shoulders to her waist, and back up again, his breathing deep, matching hers.But she feels him straighten, start to pull away.
"Oh, Quinn, don't let me go."
Quinn is sober, but his head is spinning, has been ever since he pulled Lily over for speeding this morning and, before he realized it was his long-lost cousin, fell for her. And now he doesn't want to let her go, but he needs air, pulls back just enough to take a deep breath. And there he is face to face with the woman of his dreams. And her face is moving closer to his, she's standing on tip-toes, her lips are parting, and he is pulling her closer. Like the half-blossoms of the naupaka plant at their feet, two halves are about to become whole.
>> Portlock
"What's taking Auntie Lily so long?" Elizabeth says. "She said she'd be home in five minutes with Popsicles, but that was 15 minutes ago.""I'm sure she'll be here soon," says her mother, Rosalita Resurreccion.
"That's why I have to get those sheets off the line and onto Miss Lily's bed."
Mickey is tempted to grab the jewelry now. But he also wants everything to look normal when the babe he's followed for two days comes home. He wants to be a total surprise.
Reclining on the unmade bed, Mickey takes another swallow from the bottle of red wine he'd found earlier in the kitchen. Something called Opus One -- 1991. Whatever. He isn't a wine guy, but this stuff isn't bad. He takes a hit on the ice pipe, puts it back in his left pocket. Another gulp of wine. Pats the .22 in his right pocket. Living the high life.
>> Makiki Heights
"So who's inside?" the newly arrived Detective Sherlock Gomes asks the Star-Bulletin duo that beat him to the scene."The guy everybody's looking for," writer Cruz MacKenzie says. "The senator."
Gomes whistles softly, then catches himself. His Hawaiian tutu on his mother's side always taught him it's bad luck to whistle after dark. It disturbs the Hawaiian spirits. Gomes crosses himself. "You mean Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka?"
"One and only."
Serena Kawainui was driving the senator's car - drunk, loaded on ice and stark naked - when it crashed off the Keeaumoku Overpass and landed upside down on the first base line at Cartwright Field.
The detective knocks on the door twice, hard.
"I told you to get the f--- out of here!" the senator screams from inside.
"It's the police, senator. Open up."
They hear footsteps, cursing, more footsteps, a toilet flushing.
>> Kahala Mandarin Oriental
Lt. Col. Chuck Ryan thinks he is probably sitting with America's last remaining 27-year-old virgin. Hard to imagine, especially because Fawn Nakamura is so drop-dead beautiful."And I intend to remain a virgin until my wedding night," she says.
"Good for you," Ryan said. "I admire that. I really do."
Fawn is not accustomed to such a positive, even encouraging response from men. "To be honest, my being a virgin -- or at least my vow to be a virgin on my wedding day -- turns off a lot of guys, even those I've met at church."
But for Ryan, her purity is the great attraction.
As the waitress brings their tea, Fawn is thinking that he is old enough to be her father, but in her heart that is mattering less and less.
>> Maunalua Bay
You really can't say who initiated the kiss. Quinn's lips meet Lily's halfway. Tentatively at first, just a brushing of lips, almost accidental, but only for a moment because this feels too perfect, too right, that wonderful combination of new and familiar, and the kiss grows and changes, lips and tongues, fevered breaths and groping hands, Lily pulling Quinn's hips to her, feeling a sign of his growing affection for her, 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. We can't do this."
"I'm sorry." She should feel guilt, but all Lily can muster is disappointment.
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 dchapman@midweek.com