My Kind of Town
Family reunion
>> Kailua
On his way to work at the Honolulu Soap Co. in Kalihi, Sheets Ah Sun stopped at the Kalapawai Market and bought a cup of coffee and a copy of the morning Star-Bulletin. Sitting in his Cadillac in front of the market, he quickly scanned the A section, found the story he was looking for on page 4, about the investigation into an illegal chemical dump site in Waimanalo. Sheets read it quickly, felt vaguely nauseous. It wasn't good news exactly, not bad news exactly: "Asked what his team of workers in space suits had found in the pit, Department of Health chemist Steve Tamura said, 'A lot of goo and a few chunks. In this business, chunks are good.' "
Chunks? Chunks of what? That was the question.
Sheets sipped his coffee, remembering that night at the dump site 21 years before. That night with Bobo wasn't planned. It just happened.
It actually started two days before when Dave Donnelly ran into Bobo at the Columbia Inn Roundtable, by which time Donnelly had consumed a few chilled beverages and thus didn't recall the part about Bobo asking not to be mentioned in the column. So two days later Donnelly ran an item: "Popular entertainer Clarence 'Bobo' Ah Sun back in Honolulu for the first time in six years -- performing aboard the luxury cruise liner Royal Nottingham now docked at Honolulu Harbor."
Late that afternoon Bobo returned to the ship after a day of drinking beer and smoking doobies in Waikiki with a couple of wahine and old pal Tony Martinez of the band Mauka Showers, unaware that the column item ran -- and found his cousin Mits Ah Sun in his blue HPD uniform waiting for him. Which instantly wrecked a very good buzz. Bobo had been hoping to slip into and out of Honolulu without seeing any of his family.
But Mits hugged Bobo. "Eh, you son of a gun, when you was going call?"
Bobo shrugged sheepishly. "You know me, Cuz, chasing wahine. No can beat the local girls."
Mits slapped his shoulder good-naturedly. "Eh, we get one party tonight. Sheets going be there. Get some wahine too."
Bobo brightened.
"An' we playing cards, Cuz. I going give you one chance to get even with me."
Bobo gulped. He was afraid that's why Mits was here, the $2,000 Bobo had borrowed to pay off a gambling debt. He didn't even want to think about the interest over seven years.
"Shoots," he said.
What a choice of words.
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin
with weekly summaries on Sunday.
He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com