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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
Run away
>> Above Turtle Bay
Sen. Donovan Matsuda-Yee-Dela Cruz-Bishop-Kamaka had a pool to bathe in, a week's supply of Bud and jerky, and he'd recently discovered a guava grove whose trees produced big, juicy fruit like he'd never tasted before. Talk about living the high life.
So what the heck was he doing, following this barely discernible path through grass that towered at last 9 feet, and grew so densely that he had to hold his arms in front of his face to protect his eyes from the sharp blades? He couldn't see more than a foot or two ahead, his heart hammered, he should just turn around. But he kept moving with the Glock drawn, leaning into the heavy grass to make his way. And then suddenly he was stepping out of the sea of green into a clearing where he saw the most beautiful thing -- a pakalolo patch, a dozen bud-heavy plants ready for harvest. The high life was about to get a little higher.
Then he heard the rattling of a chain, turned to his left, saw a woman in a thin yellow dress, chained at the ankle to a tree. She'd heard him coming and cowered beneath a blue tarp tied to three trees. The senator fingered the Glock's safety.
"Where's Clayton?" she said.
"Who's Clayton?"
It was hard to tell which of them was more confused. She was a local girl, in her early 30s, looked to be Hawaiian-Japanese-Filipino-Scottish. And as the senator stepped closer, he saw bruises on her face and arms.
"Clayton?" she said. "He's my boyfriend."
"Some boyfriend."
"I'm Ku'u. Who're you?"
The senator had been working on a new name, hadn't settled on any. "Just a friend. Why's he keep you chained up?"
"Because he loves me and doesn't trust other guys around me."
"And the bruises?"
"Sometimes, when things go bad for him, he gets angry at me."
"So where's Clayton?"
"He went to town to sell some of his product and get some things."
"When's he due back?"
"I never know."
"You want to run away with me?"
"OK. I don't think Clayton really loves me."
"I don't think so either."
She told him where Clayton kept the key and the senator set her free. With her help, he cut down Clayton's patch, stuffed the big pakalolo plants into Hefty bags and carried them back to his camp.
Note to readers: This week we're tying up loose ends from the two previous books, "The Honolulu Soap Company" and "Hunt Club." On June 9 we begin the third, "False Teeth."
See the Columnists section for some past articles.
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek. His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin. He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com