Chapter Fourteen
When we’re finished eating, Janice drops us off at an indoor shooting range on her way to her parents. A place that we definitely didn’t need to go to, but Lane insisted we stop.
“What are we doing here?” I ask.
“García is meeting us here,” he says. “And while we wait, I’m going to teach you how to shoot.”
“Yay me,” I say as I head into the building.
The man at the counter looks up in surprise. “Lane?”
“Hey, Harold,” Lane says.
“I’m so sorry about…what happened,” he says as he gets up and walks over to us, just so he can hover awkwardly near us.
“Thanks, I’m just gonna mess around a bit.”
“Of course, please, go ahead, take as long as you want. You need anything, just holler,” he says.
I start walking, a little unsure of where to go as Harold stares at us, unsure of what to do or say.
“I hate this. I hate seeing people that I know,” he grumbles once we are out of earshot.
“Well, it’s a good thing you’re blind then,” I say.
He stops walking, and I slowly look over at him as he starts laughing. “Why do I even try with you? It’s like I’m bothered about something, I tell you, and you make fun of me.”
“But are you upset now? Or are you laughing?”
He shakes his head. “Fine, thanks…I needed that.”
I smile as I turn away. “I get what you mean though. It must be hard. I think you need to just try something else,” I say. “When they’re like ‘hey’ and you hear that moment of sympathy you go ‘I love that new haircut, it looks so much nicer than the last time I saw you!’”
Lane starts laughing. “You imagine if I said that? It would confuse everyone.”
“I know,” I say. “That’s the plan. Then, as they awkwardly try to think of what to say, you give them a high five and head off.”
He shakes his head. “I’ll try that.”
We stop at one of the lanes or whatever shooter people call them.
It’s like an indoor shooting range, which I thought was a thing only cops visited when they needed to look emotionally dramatic in a movie.
But I guess unlike out in the country, it isn’t as easy to just set down a shooting range in the middle of a city.
Lane gets me set up with protective gear, then steps up to the railing with me.
He sets the gun in my hand as I stare at it.
“I’m not supposed to like…sign a waiver or something so that if someone shoots me, I can’t sue?”
“I don’t know, probably.”
“You come here often?” I ask.
“Used to,” he says before taking the gun from me and firing it. I look at the hole right in the bullseye. “So much that I can shoot the middle without having to look.”
“Well…that was kind of hot,” I say. “How about instead of teaching me to shoot, I step back, you take your clothes off, and I watch you shoot while I jerk off?”
He snorts and puts the gun in my hand. “Come on, I won’t be distracted,” he says as he takes my left hand in his.
“You already know where the sights are. Then down here,” he says as he slides my finger across the barrel toward the handle, “is the safety. Do not ever take it off unless you plan to shoot something and never shoot unless you’re prepared to kill someone. ”
“Can I have my battle axe now?”
“Nope. You’re too stiff,” he says as he runs his hands down my arms up to my shoulders. “Relax.”
I try to relax my shoulders as I hold the gun steady. He reaches down and taps my thigh with his hand.
“Spread your legs a bit, you’re off balance.”
“Ooh,” I say. “Sounds fun.”
“Shut it,” he says as he kicks the heel of my foot.
“Ow!”
“Move your foot. Have a solid stance. You should be solid enough that if someone came running at you while you’re shooting and hits you, you don’t fall.”
“Uh huh,” I say as I move my foot forward.
Lane pushes me, causing me to stumble and nearly fall into the half wall that keeps people from going on a suicide mission.
“Not solid enough,” he says as he barks orders at me until he can push me without sending me stumbling. I’m surprised at how much a little positioning and weight change helps.
“I may not be badass, but I look badass,” I decide.
“Take aim,” he says, so I do. “Now steady your breath and hold it. See how much steadier you are when you hold your breath? If your frame is not perfect, if it is not still, you will make a mistake. And when dealing with guns, a mistake could cost you your life. Alright, now step back and relax.”
I do and look up at him.
“Again. Try to remember that position. Perfect it.”
I step up into the position, so he touches my shoulders and hips to try to feel my stance.
“Much better,” he says. “Now shoot the target.”
I switch the safety off, line the sights, hold my breath and pull the trigger.
The gun has a kick that surprises me. I guess I hadn’t realized that there would be much of a kick at all.
The smell leaving the gun fills the air as I look at the target.
Shockingly, I’ve hit the target. It’s about three rings off the middle, but I am still surprised I’d made it that far.
I’m also surprised to find that I like it. It is…empowering. I feel like I am in control of a situation.
“Where’d it hit?”
“I don’t know…like the third ring.”
“That’s good,” he says.
“It is?” I ask.
“Yes. Do it again.”
I continue to shoot the target until I hear García’s voice.
“Hey, Lane! Good shot, Felix!” he says as he claps me on the back.
“Thanks,” I say as I switch the safety on. “I think I’ll be better than Lane in no time!”
García laughs. “That’s the spirit! So, I brought the stuff you wanted.
You can also borrow my car since I can use the company car if I need to.
But if you get caught doing this I was not the one that helped .
Got it? Now all your paperwork is under review until they decide what to do with you.
What tests you need to take, where you can safely work.
Blah blah, you’ve heard it all before. Speaking of which…
I lost my damn badge again. The third time I’ve lost it this year.
Oh well, I just won’t tell Walsh, and it’ll eventually turn up,” he says confidently.
“That’s strange,” Lane says as I pretend that I am deeply concerned by nodding my head and furrowing my eyebrows.
“That’s awful. I’m sure it’ll turn up. Until then, you could wave around one of those stripper badges?” I suggest.
He laughs. “But then I’d have to wear the outfit as well or I don’t think it would look legit,” he says with a grin.
“I’m not sure anyone would complain,” I say.
Lane turns his head in my direction and I can see the annoyance. “Really?”
“What? Someone else said that,” I say.
“I’m not deaf .”
“Are you two dating? You two are just perfect together,” García says.
“Just give him the keys to the car,” Lane says.
***
We have to park the car a mile away from the club, or at least it seems that far. When I shut the car off, Lane sets the gun I had practiced with on my lap. It may have been fun to shoot at the range, but that doesn’ mean I am in any way interested in carrying it around and aiming it at people.
“Um…I can’t just walk around with a gun!”
“Why can’t you?” he asks. “Your jacket will hide it. Secure it and keep your jacket tight. You have García’s badge, so if anyone asks, flash it. Simple.”
“Hmm…” Simple, he says. Lane’s idea of simple is like a high-speed car chase while gunning down fifteen cars.
“Put it on ,” he orders.
“Yes, sir,” I say as I pick the gun up and slide it under the driver’s seat as he watches me. “It’s on.”
“You’re such a liar,” he says as he gets out of the car.
“What are you talking about? It’s on!” I say like I am shocked that he would doubt me.
He sticks his head back in the car. “I’m not deaf! ”
I snort and open the car door. Copper whines from the back seat as he watches us. “Sorry buddy, we won’t be long.” Poor Copper has to stay in the car since we could probably blend in easier without the dog.
We walk down the sidewalk, away from the apartments, and toward the bright lights of a city not yet asleep.
I see the butt end of a line on the other side of the street.
As soon as the light flashes for us to pass, we head toward them side-by-side.
The line is long and winds around the corner and up to a brightly lit club.
“What’s this huge line for?” I ask.
“It’s probably the line to get in the club we are going to.”
“What?” I ask, slightly alarmed. It doesn’t appear like the line ever moves by the way people are sitting on the ground or watching videos on their phone. At this rate, we won’t get in until next Sunday. “We should have been here hours ago then.”
“No one of importance shows up early. Walk up to the bouncer and ask to go in. If you’re hot enough, he’ll let you in.”
“What? That’s not going to work.”
“They want attractive, rich people in there,” Lane explains as he adjusts the sunglasses he took from García’s car.
“Well, then that means I would have to at least be one of those things and I’m not!” At least my bruises aren’t as sharp on my face or they probably wouldn’t have let me in even if I had waited in the line all day.
“Come on.” Lane doesn’t sound at all concerned about this, making me question what kind of image he has procured of me in his head.
We walk past the line of impatient people wearing barely any clothes and over to where the bouncer is reaming some guy for trying to get in. He is an attractive guy as well, which just reconfirms my assumption.
“He just turned away a hot guy!” I say.
“Was he hotter than you?”
“Yes!”
“No, he wasn’t.”
“You don’t even know what I look like!”
Lane pushes me forward, and I stumble into the bouncer. It is like hitting a brick wall of pure muscle and raging testosterone.
“Hey there,” I say with a smile as the big, hulking man stares down at me. “Will you let me in if I show you a magic trick?”
“No.” Not even a moment of hesitation.
“Aw? Really? I was going to do a magic trick where I pulled your wallet out from behind your ear, but now I don’t know what to do with your wallet,” I say as I hold it up.