My Kind of Town

by Don Chapman

Going with the Flo

>> Queen's Medical Center

There was zero reason in the world for HPD solo bike officer Quinn Ah Sun to be so unsure around women. In fact, there was a pile of evidence that argued quite persuasively to the contrary. Women grew dewy when he merely smiled and blinked his long eyelashes. Handsomely hapa, standing 6-foot-3, Quinn was lean and muscular, a serious weightlifter and runner. When he straddled off his big BMW bike, he did so like John Wayne (if John Wayne was a Kamehameha grad) dismounting a horse, confident of his abilities against the bad guys.

Women were another matter. Quinn was the last guy in the world who'd seek out a shrink, but if he had, the source of Quinn's uncertainty with the opposite sex would have been fairly easy to figure. It went back to his mother.

Flo Ah Sun was not what you'd call effusive in physical displays of affection, not like his Auntie Grace. But Flo was still his mom and otherwise cared for him. At least she did until he was 12. That's when Flo abandoned Quinn and his father to move to Las Vegas and fulfill her dream of becoming a professional gambler. Boom, just like that.

Quinn and his father became extra close after she left, but even the healing closeness of their bond could not completely fill the bitter void left when his mother said, in effect, I don't love you enough to hang around another six years until you finish high school.

At first she sent him cards and money, but Quinn was angry and stubborn, and sent them back. After a while the cards stopped. But through adolescence and his teens into manhood, Quinn's uncertainty with women lingered.

That's why the babette he'd pulled over for speeding yesterday was so amazing. Standing at her window, the moment their eyes met something passed between them and he knew -- and knew that she knew -- this was The Big One.

Then he'd taken her license and discovered it was his long-lost cousin Lily, whom he hadn't seen since their fathers quit speaking 21 years ago, when they were 6. At first he'd tried to fight the obvious allure and be just a cousin. But it hadn't worked for either of them, and now they were committed to sharing their futures. Just hours ago she was here, kissing him as he'd never been kissed.

Dialing the number for Lily's home, Quinn's heart was filled with warmth and excitement. "Rosalita," he said, recognizing Lily's maid's voice. "It's Quinn, Lily's cousin. Is she there?"

Quinn heard Rosalita telling Lily he was on the line. And then he thought he heard Lily say, "Tell him he can go straight to hell."

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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