My Kind of Town
>> Royal Hawaiian Hotel How ya doin’?
This had to be a world record. Three females checking into the Royal and the best they could do for luggage was Lily Ah Sun's Gucci handbag.
"Ladies, we need to go shopping," Lily said, leading them down the hall to McInerny's.
Lily's analytical mind was the reason her phyto-cosmetic company Ola Essences was one of Hawaii's hottest companies, and she brought the same skills to this emergency shopping session.
"First of all, for sleeping tonight, big T-shirts, OK?" Lily said. Rosalita and Elizabeth, still awed by the grandeur of the Pink Palace, could only nod, and they picked out three oversize pink tees with the Royal logo on the front.
"And then for tomorrow," Lily said. And they each picked out a casual outfit for the next day.
They left McInerny's with their packages, walked down the hall to find some food. As they entered the Mai Tai Bar, Lily saw a familiar face sitting alone at a table beside the beach.
"Hey, Chuck!" she called. "What happened to you?" From the way he was glowing, it looked like he'd just fallen in love.
>> 2002 Wilder
Dr. Laurie Tang had so many questions after three days of not hearing from her boyfriend, Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka, and even more questions about the young woman who crashed Donovan's car off the Keeaumoku Overpass. But the first one to escape her lips was "Donovan, where the hell have you been?!"
Donovan had been so busy thinking up a story to explain Serena crashing his car, he hadn't thought about that excuse. Plus, the crystal meth and the beer were still blurring his logic. "Oh, uh, out of town."
"Where?"
And then the senator did what all great manipulators do. He turned it around, put the guilt on Laurie. "Aren't you even going to ask how I'm doing?"
Laurie understood guilt. She'd been raised on it by her immigrant mother from what used to be called Formosa. But Laurie was a big girl now.
"To quote you from a moment ago, how ya doin'?"
"I've been better."
"That's two of us." And then the question that had been shouting in Laurie's mind since this morning leapt from her lips. "Who's the little bitch who was driving your car?"
Donovan was ready with an answer for that one. "No idea."
"Oh really."
Donovan didn't like how she said that. It wasn't a question.
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