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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
When in Rome...
>> International watersStanding on the bow of the big ship, sea breeze in his face, Sushi Leclaire was looking for signs of the Hawaiian Islands. The captain said they were too far away, but still Sushi searched the horizon. No islands yet, but off in the distance Sushi could see great things happening.
Sushi wasn't his birth name. Neither was Leclaire. Trained as a sushi chef in his native Osaka, he had been recruited by a popular Waikiki restaurant. He jumped at the opportunity to experience America, and loved everything about it -- loved the freedom to openly express himself, to do what he wanted to do, to be what he wanted to be.
He loved that he could dye his hair orange and wear a diamond ear ring and nobody said anything. In Japan, fitting in was so important. But in America, standing out was encouraged. That's why he preferred hanging out with Westerners. Some of the Japanese he knew thought of Americans as loud, aggressive, brash, but Sushi learned an Americanism: "When in Rome ..."
The local guys he played golf with at Ala Wai nicknamed him Sushi. And he embraced it as his American name. Leclaire came from an American woman he met at the restaurant, Jean Leclaire. French name with a Texas drawl. Former Dallas Cowboys cheerleader, could've worked at Hooters, but didn't work at all because her daddy back in Abilene owned a bunch of oil wells and her ex-husband in Fort Worth owned some malls. When she married Sushi, he took her last name. That finalized the transformation of Hideki Takizawa to Sushi Leclaire. In America, anything is possible.
Two years later when Jean left Sushi for a Hawaiian cop, she had the decency to leave him her name and half a million dollars. Which he was getting dangerously close to blowing through because Sushi liked strippers, and lots of them liked Sushi's willingness to share his money. And then there were a couple of grand sex tours of Thailand and Macau. At first, half a million scoots -- another Americanism he loved -- seemed infinite. But too soon he realized it wasn't that at all. He had enough left to open his own sushi restaurant, but he hadn't worked since shortly after he met Jean. He wanted to find another line of work that was more glamorous than seaweed and raw fish. That's why he liked strip clubs.
And that's how he'd come across this business opportunity. He'd make more with this operation than he would in five years of slapping sushi. His plan involved his two favorite things, women and money. Standing on the bow of the big ship, still unable to see the Big Island, Sushi smiled to himself, but nervously. He'd really smile when the girls were delivered and he was paid in full.
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Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek. His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin. He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com