Into the Wild Dark

CHAPTER 5 - SUNNY

Ch. 5: Sunny's Ride

August 11 | Day

"Play Miles Davis, 'Milestones,'" I prompted my virtual assistant.

With a soft blare of horns, jazz emitted from the handy audio device. I poured coconut milk into velvety green matcha and padded from the kitchenette to retract the patio blinds. The living room was awash in Sunday morning sunlight. I had another day off work, with plans to explore the city, sample beignets at Cafe du Monde, shop in the French Market, cavort through art galleries. Sightseeing was on my agenda.

But first, business. I needed to write my report. I was more confident than ever that gaining permanent status wouldn't be too difficult. My inaugural week as a bodyguard had been rather bland and uninspiring, as my assigned case hadn't done much but sit around the house. I could hear Wallace now: "You want your probationary case to be easy."

Smiling to myself, I stepped out to my backyard with the blank ledger in hand. Pink and blue clouds parted the sky, making way for the grand arrival of our most important star. Lawnmen had groomed the property just before dawn. Now all was quiet and still. The smell of freshly cut grass wafted through the air, and a hummingbird, moving as precisely as the universe, flitted past my face in search of nectar.

I sat on a lawn chair and cracked the spine of my book. As I scribbled in the silence, the rising sun's warmth enveloped me. Blades of grass sprang between my toes, and I felt grounded and clear. I gave an authentic account of what I thought of my ward. He was easy to keep out of trouble. He had his share of issues but a good heart. My biggest complaint was that he hardly lived, much less lived on the edge. Why Wallace would call him a challenge, I had no idea.

The overhanging fronds of a banana tree sheltered dew-drenched flowers beside me, and I paused writing to watch blue jays and cardinals fly through its leaves. Regardless of the disappointing lack of action on the job, I was happy here. The joyous cacophony of children playing, dogs barking, and neighbors popping in for a chat would likely kick off around noon. In contrast to the studious, ascetic background of my early years, my life was undergoing a vibrant transformation in New Orleans. Almost overwhelming.

And then there was Jack Slobodnik.

I prodded my focus back to the professional analysis of my probationary case. No sense getting trapped in thoughts of the man next door. That was the only problem with my new location. It offered distractions aplenty.

In fact, I pondered switching my meditation sessions to this hour to take advantage of the peace–free of neighborhood kids and charismatic ex-convicts, alike. Our sign-up form for "Beginner Taekwondo in the Park" had amassed a tidy number of potential students. Why had I even asked Jack to work with me? Fleeting insanity, I decided. For better or worse, he and I were becoming friends.

The tranquility of the morning was all at once broken by a thunk followed by muttered swears from the direction of the Slobodniks' apartment. Or maybe it came from the parking lot. I glanced up from the ledger, but no other sound followed. There was only the music playing at a modest volume from my living room.