My Kind of Town
Introduction to fractions
>> Queen's Medical Center
Outside of Sheet's work and his golf cronies, his wife Grace was usually his voice, even with their three children. But not today. Grace was nearly in shock, trembling with silent tears. She had seen it happen from the fourth-floor office of her employer, Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka -- seen the chanting crowd of people approaching the capitol for the hate crimes bill rally, seen the skinhead wade into the crowd with swinging fists, seen a young man fall and hit the back of his head on a concrete curb.So Sheets would have to break the news to Lily. This would not be an easy call, and not just because he was bearing bad news.
Lily was angry at him because this morning she had given him a proposal to reorganize the Honolulu Soap Co., and it was a good plan. Problem was, the plan had always been for her brother Laird to take over when he graduated from Stanford Business, which was just days away. Lily would just have to get over it.
Sheets stepped into the hallway outside Lance's room in the ICU, reached for his cell phone, speed-dialed Lily's home number.
>> Portlock
It was all Quinn Ah Sun could do not to look at the Filipina maid on the bed, but he was aware of the butcher knife with the gleaming 12-inch blade she was drawing back and the venomous look in her eyes. Quinn made himself focus on the guy beside her who had a silver pistol -- Quinn judged it a .22 -- pointed at Quinn, and with the other was trying to pull up his black surf shorts while getting up from the bed. The guy who was about to rape the Filipina maid when Quinn interrupted. The guy who had whirled and shot Quinn in the thigh before Quinn could get off a shot. Quinn lifted both hands, the international signal of OK, pal, you're the boss -- anything to keep the guy's focus on him.Gripping the knife that in her hands looked more like a machete, Rosalita Resurreccion was aiming at a mole on the back of this beast's neck and had just started to stab down when the phone on the nightstand beside the bed rang. It distracted Rosalita -- her maid's instincts said answer the phone -- and that gave the guy a fraction of a second, and a fraction of an inch.
But it gave Quinn the same fractions and he dove for his Glock on the floor.
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