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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
Plus, he’s dead
>> Kona
So Cruz MacKenzie would be seeing Sonya Chan after all. He wasn't looking forward to it. She, more than any other woman, had broken his heart. Six months later was too soon for a reunion, but he had to see her for the story. Who'd have thunk she'd end up with the guy who won the state's first million-dollar Lotto and then got swallowed by a shark? But first things first.
"Where's your phone, Don? After I call the office, I want you to tell me about Daren Guy. And give me a glass of your best house red."
Having cleverly left his cell phone in his car at the Honolulu airport, Cruz called collect from a pay phone located between entrances to the restrooms. The city editor answered.
"Just use the wire copy. You got it?" Cruz heard a clicking sound as he ran a search in his computer terminal. "And you should have a fairly dramatic picture of half of the guy's pants."
"Holy sashimi! A confirmed shark attack!"
"Right. Listen, all I have now is the same quotes you see in the AP story. But I think I'm onto something good. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
Cruz hung up fast and might have heard the city editor shouting something about "Why the hell did I send you over there?" But he might not.
Walking back to the bar, Cruz paused to look at a collage of photographs on a bulletin board. There she was -- Sonya in a skintight black mini-skirt over a pink Spandex body suit helping a muscular bearded guy hold up a large mahimahi. Another picture, another outfit, floral short-shorts and a neon orange boob tube, showed Sonya holding a tray of drinks and flashing a shaka. He pulled the photo of Sonya and the bearded guy from the board and hurried to the bar.
Don Dzuraski, the former Honolulu attorney, slid a stemmed glass filled to the rim across the bar to Cruz. "Volcano Zinfandel." With half his taste buds missing from a run-in with a cup of Don's scalding coffee, it wasn't bad.
Cruz set the picture on the bar. "Who's the guy with the beard and big fish?"
"That'd be Daren. He made a bundle off that fish. Listen, Cruz, I make it a habit not to talk about an ex's new love to their ex, recent or otherwise. It's a bad idea in this business."
Cruz the columnist pulled a mini-recorder from a trouser pocket, set it on the bar and pressed the record button. The glow of the little red record light reflected on Don's well-polished bar.
"But in this case, since you're working ..."
"That's my story and I'm sticking to it." Cruz took another tug of zin.
"Plus, he's dead."
"You got a point there ..."
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