by Claire Adams
EXCESSIVE
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams
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EXCESSIVE PART 1
Chapter 1
Hunter
The edges of the 12-gauge shotgun glistened before the curious eyes of my prospective customer. The look on his face was something like awestruck. I had seen it a million times before. Dilated pupils with a hint of astonishment. He was hard for the gun… Most guys were.
“You have pretty good taste, Mister. You picked one of the most accurate ones from the bunch,” the older man muttered.
It was an obvious fact. The precision and design coupled with the immaculate quality of the weapon would make anyone feel intimidated and a little overwhelmed. Even me, and I owed the place.
I ran my fingers along the silver, smooth barrel of the long range, power gun. I caught an opaque reflection of myself in the flawless steel of the gun. The reflection staring back at me resembled the man I was more than the one I had become. The guy in front of me muttered something about the gun being heavenly, and I came to my senses.
Cautious not to damage or scratch the gun, I laid the weapon on the clear display counter. “When I saw it, I felt it was special. That’s the reason why I chose it among the rest.”
Memories of my childhood danced through my mind’s eye. Those good old days reminded me of my passion for hunting. I smiled and tried to keep myself in the present. It would be easy to spend the afternoon in memory after memory. Life was easier back then.
“I learned to hunt just as early as I learned to hold a pencil and write my name. Guns were always the best use of my time, although my father used to give me those cheap plastic ones that were like toys when I was small. He would take me out into the woods and allow me to watch as he hunted for the big ones.” My voice resonated sincere nostalgia across the shop. It was a place where tough guys came, but we all had moments of reminiscing. Moments that softened us just a little.
“Since then, I got more interested in learning the ropes of hunting. Guns are my gems, and hunting is my game.” I took pride as I spoke, my customer nodding as if he totally understood. He glanced down and shook his head as he studied the expensive, top-notch shotgun below us.
“You are really good at this, Hunter. From what you said, it sounds like you’ve handled all the guns in this shop.” The man moved his fingers slowly along the tip of the gun, seemingly testing its sturdy structure.
I kept my eyes on him, focusing my attention on the customer upfront rather than the sweet past. “I hope I can teach my son the ropes someday. Perhaps this summer break, I’ll take some time off and hunt with the boy.” It was an impossible, hearty wish. The shop would need me there to keep the doors open. It was a ball and chain, and though I loved it, it had surely become my life. No time to take off or relax. At least not yet. But in the future. Hopefully.
“That sounds great. I hope you two have some good times and make some memories. I know me and my father did, as I did with my own boys.” The kind man yielded a sympathetic smile before tapping the glass between us. “All right. No way I’m letting this baby lie here any longer. I’m taking her with me. Ring it up.”
I chuckled and nodded. I totally understood. The only thing better than a new gun was the warm arms of a good woman. Something I hadn’t had in far too long.
Another happy customer always felt good, especially one who shared my same hobby. Seeing their satisfied expressions at the idea of trying out their newest toy was a bit exhilarating to me too. The business fit me well, and I it.
After the guy had settled the bill, I packed the gun in a secured, safe case. I was in a good mood and enjoyed our conversation, so to thank him, I grabbed a bonus magazine and added it to his stuff. As I lifted the heavy cargo, he took it with both hands, his frail frame struggling to carry the weight of both the gun and the case.
“Thanks, man. I hope to see you around.” The man smiled as a final goodbye, his hands fully equipped with what we all considered precious cargo. I watched as he left and let out a content sigh. Life was good. I was doing what I wanted most days of the week. It was my nights that suffered.
I turned to walk in the back and stopped short as a familiar, and annoying, voice rang out from behind me.
“Oh, poor Hunter. Got lucky once again.” I turned to recognize the nuisance’s arrival. Garren. A best friend, and the worst employee I’d ever hired.
He leaned on one of the shop’s columns, his arms crossed in a defensive stance. He looked bored with life, fed up with normalcy. He was looking for a fight or trouble, one or the other. The guy needed something to keep himself putting one foot in front of the other.
I shook my head in slow motion, emphasizing my loss of interest over what he was to whine about now. “You’re late. Get your ass in the back and get the window cleaner. You’re going to have a long day, buddy,” I kidded.
He smirked at me as he stood straight, walking closer to my desk. He was always giving me hell, but it was just part of his persona. I’d learned to live with it a long time ago. “If you’re running something as big as this gun shop, you better know everything about what you sell. You don’t gain a customer’s trust by simply drawing them in a heartfelt, dramatic story. That’s too weak of a strategy, coming from a man like you.” He pinned his name tag on the right chest part of his uniform and wagged his eyebrows at me. Asshat.
“Keep going, Garren. Acting like you know something.” I snorted. “People buy feelings, moron. Not plastic and metal.” I walked toward my desk and dropped down into my chair.
“Oh, really? What, are we all girls now?” Teasing me with his hand signaling for me to attack, I smiled, got up, and pounced on him. I popped him in the face, grateful that no one was in the store at the time. We played too much, but it was another reason I enjoyed my job so much.
“You better shut your smart-ass comments, especially if customers are around. They might believe your crazy ideas or you talking down about women. Your momma should whoop your ass for that.” I grabbed him and put him in a headlock, laughing as he tried to get out. After a few seconds, I released him and pushed his ugly ass away.
“Is that all you’ve got, Garren? What a pity.” His eyes were filled with excitement. We’d been fighting each other since we were big enough to walk on two legs. He circled me, and I turned, watching him closely.
He was desperate to get me down seeing that I’d been champion for a long time where our silly playful fights were concerned.
“Look who is the champ in hand-to-hand combat.” I raised both hands on my side, flaunting my victory.
Garren faked a few coughs in between his laughter. “Bullshit.”
“What?” I raised my eyebrows waiting for him to set up and get pounced on once more.
“Enough of this shit.” Garren rolled his shoulders and smiled sheepishly. “Everyone knows you’re the man. Stop walking around like a rooster, you idiot. You’ll have every woman in
a ten-mile radius humping your leg.” He fist-pumped my hand and popped me in the chest. “Speaking of…when is the last time you got laid?”
“Ouch! You hit me right where it hurts most. Fuck you for that.” I winked and changed the subject. My love life was a closed book…more like an empty book. “Anyway, you missed out on one satisfied customer.” I got busy, taking a few crates behind the counter in the stock room. There were new deliveries already stacking up, and more crates coming in tomorrow.
Business was getting better and better, Texas being a prime location to a bunch of hunters and gun enthusiasts. Being the only one to provide bad-ass weapons and top-notch hunting companions in our area, my gun shop was known everywhere around the state.
“He looked pleased by your sales talk. Have you told him about Vince?” he asked, carrying a crate as he followed me into the stockroom.
“Yeah, I did.” I wiped the beads of sweat from my forehead before putting my crate down and walking back to the front of the store.
It was fully furnished with a huge variety of guns, so many that it was hard not to be a little overwhelmed. It was probably the largest gun shop I had seen, and I was glad as hell to be a part of it. Another memory swept through my mind of my father, showing me his gun collection. Life was easy as a boy. I prayed my son thought the same.
“You know how this shop began, Hunter. We both do. Your daddy had a dream, right, man?” I nodded, and he continued. “Hell, it’s been here as long as we have. Back when we were kids and shit, trailing along with our fathers during hunting season. Good ole’ days.” Garren had been one of those shy kids who came hunting with his dad during opening season, not fitting in at first. But we became fast friends because, just like me, he’d wander along behind his dad in awe, waiting to see the mountain of a man shoot another bird flawlessly.
“Yeah, your daddy was a natural. He would be really proud to see that you grew up to what he wanted you to be.” He gave me a stern look. “You know that, right? He’d be proud of you, Hunter.”
“Yeah. Thanks, man. You still suck.” I chuckled and leaned back in my chair as he started to arrange the guns that were on display inside the glass gun cases.
I just hoped that he was proud, indeed.
“So, Vince’s bus will be dropping him off here after school?” He changed the topic, seeing the sadness and quietude in my expression. I looked at him and nodded. I almost forgot about it.
“Hey, Garren. I’ll take the first lunch break, cool?” I wanted to buy something for Vince at the convenience store. Maybe his favorite chocolate bar or cookies? Chips. Damn, the boy loved chips.
Garren paused and turned to stare back at me. His playful sneer threw me off a little like the fucker knew something I didn’t.
“I guess that would pay off my tardiness.” He flipped me off and turned back around, continuing to arrange the guns in the cabinet.
“Something needs to.” I looked at the door as two customers walked in. Time to get back to work. I stood up and greeted them. God, I loved my job.
*
It was late afternoon, but the gun shop was still packed with customers. Garren was busy attending to them, while I was working on the necessary paperwork for those who were ready to purchase. I glanced down to stamp one of the contracts, the seal of release and authorization to own a gun, and heard Vince’s bus pull up just outside the store.
The little guy came running in a few seconds later. He was carrying his backpack and lunch box along with him, one dragging on the ground and the other flying wildly behind him. His face lit up as we locked eyes.
“Daaaad!” he screamed with excitement like we hadn’t seen each other in a month. I finished the last contract and gave it to the customer. Afterward, I stood up and spread my arms to welcome him. His tiny arms barely wrapped around me. It was the best relief I could find after a tired, busy day at work.
“How did you do in school today, young man?” I asked, holding his bag and lunch box as we went to the back office. He jumped on the couch, reclining back and letting out a long sigh as if the weight of the world was on his little shoulders.
“Today’s been a blast. Marion got caught cheating, Evan was the top scorer on the pop quiz, and Ashley shared some glazed apples with the whole class. You know Leila, Dad? She swung Tammy so high; she almost fell head first!” Vince’s eyes were shining in amazement, mesmerized by the things the world before him was to offer. I laughed at his stories and took out the package of chocolate cupcakes I had bought from the convenience store during my lunch break.
“Here’s your snack, son. I know you love this kind.” I served the chilled, moist chocolate cake on the small table together with a carton of milk. Vince looked happy to see his snack for this afternoon. He took one of the cupcakes, smiled at me, and bit into the thing as deep as he could, covering his face with it.
“My classmates were talking about summer coming soon, Dad. Some will go for a swim; others will go out of town. When they asked me what we will be doing, I told them my Dad would be up for something great and fun!” He was eating the cake as he spoke, his mouth full, but I didn’t care. He was too cute. Always had been. I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride, my heart smitten with my little boy.
“James even asked if I could tell stories about your heroic missions, but I told him that they were top secret.” He continued his meal, finishing the cupcake with a big grin on his face. His teeth were coated in chocolate icing, but it was all part of being a kid. I could not stop a hearty laugh as he tried to clean himself up and failed miserably.
Being a volunteer firefighter was another thing to add to the reasons why my son was proud of me. He thought of me as the town’s hero, being a strong man to face the fires. It was what a father hoped for. That was, for his son to become proud of him.
“Dad, can we go to the lake and fish? I miss our time together.” His face suddenly turned sober. Those cute, innocent green eyes were begging me to answer him yes. It was difficult to give him the words he hoped for because it would be hard to take him there and fish tonight.
“Hey, buddy, I really wanted to go fish tonight, but I’ve got a lot of work to finish up. You know I own this big old place. We’ll go as soon as I have free time, I promise.” I hated to disappoint him, but I was without options. It was me and Garren. We had a few part-timers, but the place was mine. All mine.
He replied with a slow nod, disappointed. He forced a smile and hugged me, looking more grown up than he should have. I couldn’t help but wish for some relief, so a bit of time to spend just with him, but it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
I’d been through a lot in my life and carried a shit-ton on my shoulders more times than I could count, but nothing was more difficult than being a single parent. Nothing.
Chapter 2
Kylie
Grooving to the music playing on the loudspeaker was a hard thing to stop doing. It gave me an empowered boost while I was working. I could do my tasks all day, as long as my playlist boomed in my ear. The convenience store where I worked was chill most days and a great place to dance and read a good book.
I fixed the items on the shelves as my mom and boss had instructed. It was a boring job, and one I’d done all my life, but I could live with it. The store served as the bread and butter of our family for years. As I placed the last set of noodles on the top shelf, my mother came storming out of the stock room. Pissed.
“What the hell is that blaring sound?!” my mother shouted, frantic eyes searching the entire place to find the source of the music. I waved my hand to signal to her my spot in between the instant snacks section. I heard her rattling over the noise, her complaints overcoming the R&B music playing on the loudspeakers.
“I told you a million times, Kylie! Keep the music down!” She kept her voice clear and audible over the loud sound. I pretended to be deaf to her claims, putting my hand over my ears.
“I said lower the volume! You’re scaring customers away d
ue to that noise!” She was screaming, her voice far too loud for the small store. Customers were looking at her, watching our little dramatic mother-daughter cat fight.
Mom was old fashioned all the way, but it was her store. Period.
“I think you’re frightening people away with the sound of your voice, Mom. Not the music.” I hated to break it to her, but it was a fact.
The customers closest to us nodded and smiled, agreeing with my honesty.
She huffed and turned, walking over to the front counter. Before I could protest, the tunes changed from the blues to the great 70’s. I knew it. Mom was a die-hard fan of these beautiful artists creating phenomenal hits, but it was too old for this generation. All I could do was smile at the thought of my mother’s stubborn ways, her verdict being the last resort followed around our family.
I walked toward the counter, taking my spot right after keeping the shelves stocked. My mother refilled the refreshments in the fridge as I approached her.
“Maybe the music choice was the reason why you whined all of a sudden,” I teased her, wiping the fridge door to clear off the moisture.
She grinned and made two thumbs up for me to acknowledge. “You can never go wrong with ABBA.”
Sadly enough, and though I would never in a million years admit it, she was right.
Singing through the chorus of Dancing Queen, she seized my hands and swayed me along with her signature dance steps. I felt awkward thanks to a group of customers watching us, but I swayed with her nevertheless. She was my mom, the superwoman of my life.
“You can dance, you can jive! Having the time of your life, whoo!” We sang together and danced until the song ended. She laughed and threw her hands in the air, going from angry to blissful in a matter of minutes.
But, that was my mother. Intensely complex. I stared at her beautiful yet wrinkled face. She was my first best friend, the center of my heart. I couldn’t imagine life without her and prayed like crazy that I would never have to live it.
