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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
Good try
>> Waikiki
Cruz MacKenzie had never been so embarrassed -- and that's saying something -- after shouting to warn a tourist couple obviously making love in the water that a shark -- no two sharks! -- were right behind them, and they came running out of the water half-clothed. And then Jasmine Kekai grabbed one of the fins and held up an upside-down surfboard with twin fins.
The couple swore at Cruz, hurried away.
"Cruz!" Jasmine ran out of the water with the board. "Look!"
The front tip had been chomped off. Jasmine dialed 911 on her cellular. The Waikiki cop shop was just down the beach. The reaction was immediate. As they watched two flashing blue lights speed toward them, Cruz used the cellular to call the city desk. "Get a shooter down to Queen's Beach right away."
Jasmine planned the picnic to get Cruz away from work, but instead she waited as Cruz talked with cops, surfers and lifeguards. She saw his legs wobble when they pulled a body with only one arm from the surf and Cruz recognized his face. She followed when he hoofed over to talk with the parking guys at the Moana-Surfrider Hotel.
Two hours later he was dropping her off at her Makiki condo.
"I was going to ask you in tonight," she said when Cruz dropped her off. "But since you have work to do ..."
"I'd have said yes." He kissed her cheek. "It was a good try, keeping me away from work, it really was."
She shrugged. "Yeah."
"Ballgame tomorrow, you know, UH against UCLA. How do you feel about tailgating?"
"Some of my friends are going, you can meet them!"
She kissed him on the lips, and he kissed back, then headed to the office. If he wrote fast, and tried not to think of the pleasant encounters he'd had over the years with Jimmy Del Rosario, and what a terrific guy he was, he could make deadline for the morning paper. Go, magic fingers, go. And if he didn't think about how good Jasmine's fingers felt entwined with his.
>> Off the Big Island
Having stayed up through the night, Daren Guy and Sushi Leclaire slept below during the day, Sonya Chan at the wheel of Wet Spot, keeping to the bearing Daren gave her, both spearguns at her side. Even with a following sea, the going was slow with just the electric motor for power.
As they plowed along, Sonya talked quietly with Sushi's 12 Filipinas. She learned their names, that they were between 17 and 23, and that each had been working at bars in Manila, the kind where a man can pay to have sex.
Sushi offered them a better life. Sonya, about to become a millionairess, thought she could offer even better. She had a plan.
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
