by BL Craven
“I need more clothes. I literally have nothing.”
“Good…” she looked at me hungrily. “We’ll find you something good…”
“Ahhh geeze, I’m just going to buy a few more pairs of jeans and shirts, maybe a pair of boots so I don’t mess up my dress boots here.”
“Spoilsport.”
“Then the gun shop.”
“What? Why?”
“Going to give Jackson his toy back. Besides, I want something I’m more familiar with.”
“Dad’s got guns at home.”
“Not like what I want.”
“You might be surprised,” she whispered.
“We’ll see,” I tried to keep my eyes on the road, but she put her hand on my leg and driving became a chore as I tried to ignore what her hand was doing to me, rubbing my inner thigh.
“So about the clothes?”
“What about them?”
“Are they going to fit you as tight as your jeans are right now?” she asked, and something in her tone made me look.
Her gaze was predatory, and my hand jerked the wheel when her fingers grazed over the bulge in my pants.
“They might.”
“Good. Might I suggest somewhere quiet first?”
“I don’t know if we have time to…”
Her seatbelt unlatched and she leaned over into my lap and started playing with the belt buckle I had on.
“Alison, what are you doing?”
I knew what she was doing, and I pulled off on a county road, more of a two track dirt road, and I looked for somewhere to park. It took both hands to control the Jeep since I was having a hard time focusing on the road while she was working on devouring me. When she finally got my manhood out of my pants, I almost lost control.
My eyes were rolling back in my head with the sheer pleasure, so I looked in the rearview and to the sides, and didn’t see anybody. I parked the Jeep on the side of the road as she continued to please me. Watching her as she made sure to push my pleasure to the breaking point, I realized I was in over my head. This woman had a way of melting the walls I had built in my head. She had all the power and didn’t even realize it.
I almost broke the brake pedal when I came, my arms flexed over the wheel as she swallowed. After a few spasms, I was finally spent, and she pulled some wet wipes out of her purse and tossed me a couple, already getting herself put back together.
“Holy shit. What the fuck?”
“You’ve been wound up all day. I’ve wanted to do that to you for a long time now, and I figured that might be a good icebreaker.”
My mind was swirling, and most of it was focused on turning around and taking her back to the ranch. “I have to go shopping still.”
“Okay, then let’s go. You missed the turn by the way; it was half a mile back,” her voice teasing once again.
“I was distracted.”
“I hope you didn’t mind that distraction.”
“Not at all, just give a guy a little warning first,” I was almost getting my breathing under control, and I’d broken out into a sweat.
“Sure,” she smiled coyly at me, and I got myself situated and turned around, heading back toward town.
My mind was still spinning. Ali definitely wasn’t all innocent, but I’d never expected her to have been a virgin, hell I knew she wasn’t after last night. But I was confused by her asking me to go easy. Was there such a thing? Would that mean tonight could be crazy? Could she handle crazy? It had been a long time since I’d had sex, and I now felt more like that 17-year-old from years back who couldn’t keep his pants on.
My list was pretty simple for the clothing, but I wanted a gun or two of my own. Something I could tear down and put back together, something I could rely on. Jackson’s Remington was a great gun, but it wasn’t what I was used to, and I was stupid to have trusted my life with it the other day without even sighting it in. If there was one thing that bugged me, it was realizing a day later how dead I’d almost become.
Stupid! I know the way Bill and Jackson took care of their tools and their guns. I should never have assumed. Assumption is the mother of all fuck-ups.
The clothes shopping went quickly, and Ali didn’t protest too much when I bought the same pair of jeans, same color and same size. She thought I should have black, khaki, stone washed… I did, however, let her pick out a ton of shirts for me. She found a gray hoodie that “You must wear” and a black leather vest to go over whatever shirt I was wearing. I almost balked but saw the pockets in the vest would hold the magazines of my next purchase perfectly. Besides, it’d look good with the black Stetson I’d snagged on my way in.
“You’re going to look so hot…”
“All the ladies will be lining up to dance with me,” I told her, smiling when she frowned.
“Don’t you joke about that…”
Really? She had a jealous streak, too?
“What, that you are dressing me up to put me on show?” I joked.
“Okay, okay. But I was having fun. It’s not every day that you get to play with a life sized Ken doll,” she said, running her hand across my stomach, feeling the muscles that I’d been neglecting for the last week and a half since I’d left the desert.
“Easy now, easy. We still have one more stop before we go back to the ranch.”
“I know, I know. Boys and their toys,” she tried to sound exasperated, but I knew she was faking it.
“Do you like to shoot?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” she grinned, and my heart flip flopped.
We drove to the other end of town where the Guns Galore Emporium was. Not much had changed since I’d left when I was a kid, but I still loved the place. Row upon row of rifles lined the aisles. Mostly hunting stuff.
The pistols were behind a glass case and the back wall was dedicated to more specialized guns, most of them were the scary ‘black guns’ that folks worry about in the news. Those were what I was interested in. I had to smile though, the guy who walked out of the side door to help us looked like Barney Fife, if Barney had only had full-sleeved tattoos and a nose ring.
“What can I help you two with today?” he asked me, his gaze lingering on Alison longer than I’d have liked.
“I’m looking for something like those,” I motioned to the AR platforms behind and to his left. “But I want something special. If you don’t have it, I’d like to order the parts for a build.”
“Really? You know guns?”
“As if my life depended on it,” I smiled back at him, wondering if he’d ever served. Goofy mug like his, he would have made a perfect Special Forces guy.
“Navy or Marines?” he asked me, looking at me for the first time and smiling.
“Neither. Army,” I guessed he was Navy, judging by the tattoos.
“Nobody’s perfect.”
“Hey, I’ve heard that one before,” Ali poked me in the side and I gave her the glare when it startled me.
“Yeah, me too,” I told the both of them.
“So what kind of Excalibur you looking for?”
“An AR-10 with a heavy barrel, match grade. A good Nikon M308 4-16 scope and the mounts to make her fit on a Picatinny rail. Some 20 round mags would be nice, but I’ll take a bunch of 10s if you have them.
The clerk whistled low and looked me over again, then back at Ali.
“Howdy again miss,” he told her, but Ali just giggled and gave him a little wave. “You want an expensive toy, or you going coyote hunting?”
“I want something familiar, and yes, coyotes are getting bad,” I dropped him a wink.
“Heard that the sheriff’s nephew took a shot at you yesterday.”
“Aw shit.” How did folks hear about this already, and how did he know it was me? “Yeah, that was me. Honestly, I’m hoping the trouble is over, but if I’m sticking around, I want something like my service rifle. Remington’s are great, but I only played with those in practice.”
“You were a shooter.” It was a s
tatement, not a question and I could see Barney’s eyes looking into me. One killer to another.
“Yeah. I’m hoping those days are over, but you never know when you get treed by some wild hogs.”
“Amen brother.”
“Uh, guys, this might be fun to you all but, I’m lost here,” Alison said, her voice a sweet melody to my ears.
“We’re talking gun porn, Miss. Here, check out this Beretta.” He handed her a pistol after making sure the chamber was empty.
“This gun I know. Dad has the bigger model in the safe,” Ali said, her eyes opened wide, but she slid the chamber back, making sure the gun was unloaded and then pointed it in a safe direction, feeling the balance. I turned back to Barney.
“Got anything like I’m talking about?”
“As a matter of fact, I’ve got two. One of them is mine, and it’s not for sale, and the other was a custom order that didn’t get picked up. I have the barrel you want, make you a good deal on it. It’s about twice as much as a base AR price-wise.”
“I expected as much. I’m also going to want a Colt Gold Cup .45.”
“And that Beretta. Looks like your lady is in love.”
I turned, and sure enough, Alison was smiling. To the astonishment of Barney and me, she started field stripping the gun. She looked at every piece and then put it back together within minutes. I looked at Barney with raised eyebrows, trying to silently ask him WTF? He just shrugged and went to the back shelf. When he came back he had a stack of ammo. 7.62, .45 and 9mm. I shook my head, but I was smiling. I tapped the box of .45 and 7.62 a few times and he went back for more.
“Now for the gun. Let me show you.”
He disappeared behind the curtain where he had come out of. A few moments later, he came back carrying the AR-15’s big brother. He had one 20 round magazine and it looked like three ten round magazines.
“What do you think?” he asked me, already knowing.
My mouth had gone dry and the memories of holding almost this exact rifle flooded into my mind. I worked the bolt, feeling how smooth the action was. I could work with this, and it even had a decent scope already on it.
“Sorry, no Leopolds,” he apologized.
What was on there was good enough. In honesty, it was about the best civilian style scope for this rifle. It was a Vortex. I knew I could bore Alison with the details on it later, but it was perfect for the range I would be using it at.
“Good. So the rifle and these two pistols.”
“There’s just a little matter of paperwork, payment and wait time,” he said, smiling.
“I’ve got my ID here somewhere…” I dug through my wallet and pulled out my military ID and another one, one that most civilians don’t see.
It was a class III FFL. I’d gotten it a couple years ago as part of some training and my love of all things that went BANG. I could literally purchase and own almost anything short of a tank. I had to know my guns inside and out and when I’d mentioned I wanted to get a FFL, a buddy had helped me with the paperwork. We joked that maybe I’d take my hobby of keeping our guns working and pristine into a career as a gun shop owner, or gunsmith.
“Ahhh. So I take it you have a concealed pistol license as well?”
“Yeah, I got one before I left,” I handed it over. “So, I shouldn’t have to deal with the wait times. Oh, and I’ll need some belt holsters for the pistols.”
“Of course you do. Fill this out and I’ll find something for the lady,” he told me, sliding me a clipboard.
I hated forms, but I filled this one out, using Bill’s address for my background check. When I’d heard Mom had moved back into town, I’d already thought I knew it was to reunite with Bill, but I’d had to put an address on something. My ID had the same sticker. I added my new cell phone number and stepped back to watch Barney and Alison. She had a black tooled holster on her right side, and Barney was showing her how to release the flap holding the gun secure to do somewhat of a quick draw. I smiled. I could teach her some things, but a quick draw artist I wasn’t.
“Don’t have too much fun over there,” I called.
“Hey, Barney says he’ll show me how to do a quick draw. You know how to do that?”
I started laughing. Hard. His name was Barney, of course, it was. There is a God, and he’s got a sense of humor!
“What’s so funny?” Alison asked me, with a puzzled expression on her face.
“Nothing,” I managed to slow the humor in my voice.
“Don’t worry; I hear it all the time,” Barney told me, a smile on his face.
“What?” she was still confused.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Barney. “I’ll tell you later,” I told Alison.
I walked over to the shelf and found something that I thought would be perfect. When Barney (snicker) pulled the Gold Cup from the glass case, it slid in without an issue. A perfect fit. I was smiling and Barney gave me a nod and went to the cash register.
“Give me a second to put all this into the computer. You paying cash?”
“No, debit.”
“You call your bank ahead of time?”
“No…?”
“You just got back from overseas?”
“Yeah. I’ve been gone for seven years.”
“Okay, call your bank and make sure they approve this much of a charge. Things got funny a few years back and most places put a cap on one-time purchases to protect folks from fraud. I want to catch up with Ms. Masterson a moment, you don’t mind do you?”
Did I mind? My guts clenched, but I just shrugged.
I wandered to the front of the store, calling the bank from my new phone. It was the same bank I’d had when I first went overseas, the one here in town. I explained who I was, confirmed my social security number and told them the amount. They put me on hold to do some computer magic and my gaze drifted out the window. There I saw the weasel dick from the hospital… James perhaps? He was walking down the street, talking into a phone.
I followed his progress and saw a brown sheriff’s SUV pull over, and he climbed in the front seat. I strained to see who the driver was, but it wasn’t Tyler. That was when the lady from the bank came back online and told me my card would be ready for the purchase. I thanked her and hung up. No more fooling myself, I’d always known I was coming home, hell, I was already here.
“I’m ready,” I told Barney, putting my card on the counter. He just nodded and hesitated before swiping the card.
“Is that enough ammo?” he asked.
“I’m sure there’s more in the ranch’s gun safe if we ever get overrun by Indians,” I joked.
“Yeah, we probably have all of these calibers. Daddy has a ton of toys he bought from you,” she told Barney, and I sighed. Now I knew the connection that had worried me for half a second. I really had to get over this. It just felt so raw, so new. Too soon, love.
“Good,” I undid my belt and put the holster through it. “You don’t mind do you?” I asked Barney and he shook his head no.
The credit card receipt was printing when I started loading the magazine for the Gold Cup. I finished loading the fine pistol and put the safety on before holstering it. I signed for it and Alison looked disappointed when I put hers in the box instead of on her belt.
“You don’t have a CPL.”
“It’s an open carry state!” She was pissed.
“In a car ma’am,” Barney said. “You need a CPL to have a loaded gun within reach.”
“Oh, I thought it was some misogynistic thing.”
“Hon, if that was the case, you would have shot me by now,” I teased her, and she promptly stuck out her tongue.
“I’m guessing you’re qualified to teach her about the gun that you bought for yourself, but are you going to let her try it out once in a while?” I almost had to think hard for a moment there, but yes, I’d bought the gun and he’d never asked for her credentials even though it was obvious I was buying it for her.
“Yeah, I was an E-7, with
a B4 ASI,” I told him with a grin, thinking if he was a squid he wouldn’t understand what I was saying, but he just nodded.
“Good to know there’s another SF dude in town. We had some of you guys on the teams.”
I had to stop short there. I’d thought he was Special Forces, but this lanky Barney Fife biker look alike was a Seal.
“Did we ever meet before?”
“No, I bought the shop here three years back. Don’t think we’ve ever met, but if you want to split a case of Budweiser some night and talk war stories, just let me know.”
“I’d like that, I really would,” I said holding my hand out, smiling like an idiot. He returned the smile and handshake.
“Just one question, why not a Remington 700 system like the M24?”
“Extra firepower, and the coyotes can’t hit a target 3,000 feet out like I can with this little puppy,” I said patting the AR that was now in a cloth case for transport, compliments of the Emporium. “Besides, I upgraded my own system. Lost it in an IED setup and mortar attack. I want a new baby.”
“Sad.”
“I almost cried a week.”
“Oh my God. Can we go now?” Alison moaned, bored with us.
She was right. I could probably talk to Barney all day and throw around terms she didn’t recognize. I hadn’t been out of the military that long and was already finding kindred souls. Dade, and now Barney. Maybe life here wouldn’t be so bad, once things settled down. Almost an afterthought, I sent another mental prayer up for Tim and his mother. Carl was still an ass in my mind for calling Ali a cunt, but over time, I’d forgive him too.
“Sure babe. Nice talking to you Barney,” I waved as we loaded up our loot, the ammo almost breaking the bottoms out of the bags.
Barney just waved back. I put the rest of the guns in the back behind the back jump seats and headed the Jeep back to the ranch.
“Who did that guy remind you of?” she asked me.
“You remember the old Andy Griffith Show?” I asked her.
“Yeah…?”
“The crazy deputy… Barney Fife, but imagine him with tattoos and piercings…”
She was silent for a moment, her brow furrowed. I turned to pay attention to the road again and missed the moment she remembered and she started laughing and beating on the dashboard. After a moment, I joined her, too.
