Running Hot

wound had healed but his leg was never going to be the same. The damned cane would be a part of his life from now on. He was still coming to terms with that fact but that was not why he was feeling low tonight. He did not know how to explain the real problem to anyone.
    “I am feeling better,” he insisted. “Just a little tired, that’s all. Like I said, it’s been a long night.”
    “I’ll get you another beer,” Milly said.
    She disappeared through the fluttery panels of red-and-white cloth that screened the kitchen from the dining area.
    “Milly and Petra are right, you’re depressed again.” Wayne used his chopsticks to slurp up a mouthful of noodles. “Take the J&J job. That will make you feel better.”
    “Yeah,” Petra said. “That will get you out of this little funk you’ve been in for the past couple of months.”
    Luther glared at them across the small table. “The job Jones offered is make-work. A two-day babysitting gig on Maui.”
    “So what?” Wayne tapped the chopsticks on the rim of his bowl. “It’s work. Means you’re back in the game.”
    “No,” Luther said. “It doesn’t mean that. It means that Fallon Jones is feeling sorry for me, maybe even a little guilty because of what happened on the last job. He’s decided to throw me a bone.”
    Petra snorted. “Get real. Fallon Jones doesn’t do sympathy and he wouldn’t recognize a guilt trip if one bit him on the ass.”
    “Okay, I’ll concede that Fallon is not given to indulging the finer feelings,” Luther said. “That leaves only one other reason why he left that message in my voice mail.”
    “What?” Petra demanded.
    “The job is so low-rent he doesn’t want to waste money paying for an agent to fly from the mainland.”
    “Huh.” Petra shrugged. “Maybe. My advice is to take the bone.”
    “Why?” Luther asked.
    “Because you need to gnaw on something besides your own thoughts. Working for J&J again, even if it is just a two-day bodyguard job, will be good for you.”
    “Think so?”
    “Yeah,” Petra said. “And there’s another reason you should take the job.”
    “What?”
    “I’ve got a feelin’ about it.”
    “You had a feeling about the last job,” Luther reminded her.
    They all looked at the cane hooked over the back of a chair.
    “This feelin’ is a little different,” Petra said.

THREE
    It was after two in the morning by the time he limped up the steps to the second floor of the old, two-story Sunset Surf Apartments. Bruno the Wonder Dog yipped wildly when he went past the owner’s unit. Bruno was small and fluffy and probably weighed less than five pounds but he had the guard instincts of a Doberman. No one gained access to the grounds of the Sunset Surf without Bruno announcing the fact.
    Inside 2-B, he flipped a switch, illuminating the threadbare carpet, the aging paint and the yard-sale furniture he’d bought two years ago when he moved to the islands. He’d been paying off his second divorce at the time. Money had been tight. Money was still tight.
    He’d been using the J&J work to help build up his bank account. Things had just started to turn around and he’d even been contemplating a move into a more upscale apartment when he took the job Fallon had offered two months ago. Getting shot had not only hurt like hell, it had proven to be a major financial setback.
    Wayne and Petra were right. He should accept the babysitting job Fallon had offered. His pride would take a hit but he could use the money. J&J paid well.
    He went into the small kitchen and took down the bottle of excellent whiskey that Wayne and Petra had given him for his birthday. He poured a healthy dose, opened the sliding glass doors and went out onto the microchip-sized lanai.
    He leaned on the railing and took a swallow of whiskey. The silken night closed around him like an unseen lover, soothing all his senses. The Sunset Surf was one of innumerable small apartment houses tucked away in the maze of Waikiki’s backstreets and alleys. It did not have a view of either the sunset or the surf. It also lacked air-conditioning and a pool. What it did have was a massive, heavy-limbed banyan tree in back that helped keep things cool during the hot summer months.
    His neighbors consisted of the owner, a senior citizen he knew only as Bea, a couple of retirees from Alaska, an aging surfer with no discernible means of support and some guy who claimed he was writing a novel. It was not what you could call a