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My Kind of Town

Don Chapman


Dinner at Sam’s


>> Sam Choy's-Kapahulu

As a poor struggling Manoa graduate student, Bodhicita Guzman didn't dine at a lot of fancy restaurants. So as the cab dropped her off, she was looking forward as much to the food as she was to meeting the Chinese banker Fon Du. Who just that afternoon at Neiman's bought her the clingy knit-silk peach sweater set she was now wearing -- with a short black skirt and platform heels. She felt very feminine, very confident.

The Japanese-Puerto Rican beauty paid the cabbie, walked up the steps and there he was, no longer wearing the gray business suit but slacks and a silk aloha shirt. And he looked so good, silk draped over muscular chest, shoulders and arms, leather belt snug on tapered waist, black hair moussed back, Bodhicita nearly swooned.

Fon Du, playing the gentleman, extended a hand, shook her's. "I was right, that color is perfect with your skin. You look fabulous!"

And charming too, Bodhicita was thinking. Plus an English accent. Oh my.

Fon Du, meanwhile, thinking omigod this is the absolute most desirable woman I have ever laid eyes on, as the Americans say. The outer sweater she'd left unbuttoned, and the swoop-neck inner sweater revealed wondrous flesh. Four hundred clams for the sweater set was the best money he'd ever spent. Or would be when the investment was fully realized. He loved women. Well, loved the chase, the conquest. Then on to the next one. But this one... he didn't know her name... this one could be different.

And that would be his downfall.

But that's getting ahead of the story. First there was dinner, starting with a couple of martinis and a small brie wonton, fried lightly golden, served with papaya-pineapple marmalade. Then the Seafood Parfaitini appetizer, served in an inverted parfait glass, layered from the top, ahi poke dusted with shiso roe, guacamole, sushi rice and blue crab salad. Bodhicita ordered Grilled Shrimp and Scallops, Fon Du the Grilled Asian-Style Lamb Chops, and they traded tastes, slowly emptying a bottle of champagne. Chef Elmer Guzman even came out, obviously knew the banker as a regular patron.

As they chatted, getting to know a little about each other's past and present, something clicked inside Bodhicita. Yes, she knew he was Chinese. Yes, he worked for the Bank of Lhasa, a visible sign of the Chinese occupation of Tibet, which friends like Kamasami Khan loathed. Yes, she'd barely met him. But something about him made her feel good, and want to see him again. At last she told him her name. "My friends all me 'Cita."

So after sharing a sorbet sampler, when Fon Du offered to drive her home, she forced herself to say no, she'd take a cab. He waved as it pulled away, smiled when he saw his Te-Wu colleague Zu Lu tailing her.



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

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