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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
Bikini top escape
>> Kona
"Oh my God!" Holly Horiuchi said in a whisper. "It's Jason!"
"Where?!" Jasmine Kanaka said, fight or flight instinct kicking in.
"By the water slide. Red trunks. Oh, no, wait -- it's not him."
"But it does look like him," Jasmine shuddered. "Like separated at birth."
The Jason look-alike was a tall, muscular, handsome hapa-Hawaiian in his 20s.
"Who's Jason?" Cruz MacKenzie wondered.
"Nobody," Jasmine said. "Just a guy."
"Just a guy? After what he did to you?" Holly said. "He's a major effing butthead!"
"What'd he do?"
"Nothing," Jasmine said, gave Holly a shut-up glare.
"Nothing?!" Holly took a deep breath, a big gulp of her smoothie, turned to Cruz. "Last week, Jasmine came home early and found Jason in bed with a tourist chick. In her own bed! Can you believe it?!"
"Nope," Cruz said honestly.
"It's O.K.," Jasmine said and quaffed the last of her smoothie.
The waitress returned with Cruz's second drink and they all ordered another round.
"How about a swim?" Jasmine said, touching Cruz's arm.
"Sounds good," he said, took a deep drink of the lychee smoothie as he stood up and nearly fell over. "Whoa!"
Jasmine giggled: "They're good, yeah?"
"What's in this thing, besides lychee I mean?"
"Vodka, silly."
"I thought I was drinking virgins."
"Actually," Holly said through a crooked grin, "we've been drinking doubles."
"Ah, that explains it then."
Jasmine slipped her hand around Cruz's arm for balance as they walked to the pool.
"Last one in is a haole!" she said and dived in. Cruz followed. Opening his eyes underwater, he saw that Jasmine's bikini top had escaped again. "Hi, haole," Jasmine said softly, nuzzling him nose-to-nose, pulling him down so that just their heads bobbed above the surface. "That top is terrible, it just won't stay on."
Cruz could barely breathe, much less speak. She tentatively kissed his lips. He didn't want her to be his niece.
"Cruz," she breathed his name as no one ever had and kissed him with parted lips. When at last they came up for air, Cruz forced himself to say: "Maybe we ought to find the rest of your suit."
"Anything you say."
Oh, the things Cruz wanted to say.
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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
