My Kind of Town
>> Queen's Medical Center Of salmon and men
It wasn't until she reached her car in the parking garage that Lily Ah Sun's tears started.
When she'd burst into her cousin Quinn's room -- excited to share the fruits of her research into Ah Sun references in the Honolulu newspapers from years ago -- and found that wench Gwen Roselobitch kissing and fondling Quinn, and Quinn obviously not resisting, Lily was at first shocked. But anger quickly flared. Lily threw her stack of old newspaper story photocopies across the room in a flurry and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
And her fury grew as she marched down the hall, muttering curses and epithets, ignoring the stares of passers-by. Lily fumed into the elevator, steamed out into the parking garage.
But once within the cocoon of her teal BMW, the reality of Quinn's unfaithfulness hit her in the heart, and the tears started. Quinn, the love of her life, the man she wanted more than any other she'd ever met, turned out to be just another cheating schmuck of a guy, every bit as faithful as a damn salmon. And soon she was sobbing, the hopes of a lifetime and the emotions Quinn stirred so quickly all crashing down around her. She pounded the steering wheel. "Damn you, Quinn Ah Sun!" Pound. "Damn you!" Pound.
Ow! That was stupid. Lily's hand hurt. But nothing compared to her heart and her pride.
But if that's the way Quinn was, better to find out now. They'd gone 21 years without seeing one another, and as far as Lily was concerned they could go another 21 and it wouldn't be long enough for her. As for the feud between their fathers that caused the separation, Lily was all for it. The other side of the Ah Sun clan could not be trusted.
On that point, Lily was only half right.
>> Roused by a slamming door from vivid dreams inspired by the painkiller they'd given him for the gunshot wound to his right thigh, Quinn Ah Sun was so groggy he was only vaguely aware of where he was. He was so groggy, looking down and seeing himself exposed seemed normal. Apparently they were giving him another sponge bath. And seeing Gwen Roselovich wasn't that weird. She was a familiar face from HPD Dispatch. Except that now her face was smeared with red lipstick. And she was the one giving him a sponge bath. Maybe she was in the dream too.
"Where did the tall naked Hawaiian woman go?" he said, still woozy.
"What?"
"She was just here. Ho'ola. The goddess."
"Only goddess here is me, Sweetie," Gwen said, ignoring the photocopies 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