Authors note:
Once more thanks go to Dr Mark for his help, advice, and editorial expertise.
Please rate and comment. It helps me to know what people are thinking.
PM
Chapter 33 - Tough Love.
The house was empty and cold when we returned. I turned the heat on and we went into the kitchen to discover a note on the counter from Louise.
'
Last minute invite to my parents until Sunday, Hope you had fun. A young guy came and dropped these off on Monday. Said he was passing.
See you soon,
Love Louise.
XXX'
Beside the note was a box containing my business cards. On the top of the box was an envelope. I opened it. It contained my invoice for the print services and web design. On the back of the envelope was a telephone number and a name: Barney.
We needed to go shopping since the fridge was empty. We took my truck to the supermarket to stock up. On the way there, we saw a gun range and decided to call in and take a look.
The guy behind the counter, was stunned to see three beautiful women walk into his range. He didn't seem to notice me.
"Can I help you?" he asked the girls. They all looked at me, at which point he finally seemed to realize that I was there.
"Hi," I said. "We would like to learn to shoot. We're not yet old enough to buy a handgun. Do you have club weapons that we can use for instruction?"
"We certainly do," he said.
"Might I see one please?" I asked.
He looked at me, puzzled. "You want to see one?" he queried.
"Yes," I said. "I want to see one."
"Wait here," he said and went through a door behind the counter. He returned a moment later with a handgun. When he placed it on the counter, I immediately identified it as a Glock 19 thanks to Dean's memories. It had no magazine in, but the slide was closed.
"May I?" I asked, and he nodded.
I picked up the gun and checked the chamber. Then I broke the gun down. It was in a poor state. Everything was dirty, and it looked like it hadn't been maintained in some time.
I left the gun in pieces on the counter.
"I'll leave it apart for you," I said. "It needs a good cleaning. Thanks for your time."
The guy just stared at us as we left, probably getting an eyeful of the three girls' rather spectacular asses as they walked out of the door. When I got back to my truck, I wiped my hands on a cloth I kept in the door pocket.
"There's another range five blocks up," said Amanda, looking at her phone. "Shall we go check that one out?"
I drove to the other range. It was quite a bit smaller, but the parking lot was almost full. The other place had been less than a quarter full. I hoped that meant we'd found the better one.
There was an older man manning the desk as we walked in. He looked at us and waited patiently for one of us to speak. I gave him my spiel and he nodded.
"Why?" he asked.
"Why what?" I asked.
"Why do you want to learn to shoot?"
I grinned. "My father-in-law told us we had to," I said. "I'm also looking to become a law enforcement officer when I graduate." He didn't look overly impressed.
"Listen, son," he said, "you're not the first college kid to come in here with some honeys on your arm looking to impress. This is a serious range, and we expect our members to act accordingly. Guns are not toys, and people who think they are end up killing people."
"These are not 'honeys,'" I said coldly. "They are my fiancรฉes, and I am not here to impress anyone. I have had a little instruction from an ex-marine on handling a weapon, and he has advised I join a club and practice."
"You've had some instruction?" he asked.
"Yes, but since I am not yet old enough to purchase a gun of my own, nor are my ladies, we would need to rent guns in order to learn and practice. May I see a club pistol?" I said.
He gave me a hard look. "Wait here," he said.
He, too, went through the door behind the counter and returned with another Glock 19, again with no magazine. He placed it on the counter. "Show me what you learned," he said.
I picked up the gun, being careful to point it at the floor, and opened the chamber to find that it was empty. I then dismantled the gun onto the counter. It came apart easily, and all the parts were well maintained, oiled and in very good condition. I reassembled the gun and placed it back on the counter.
"What branch of law enforcement?" he asked.
"FBI," I said. "I already consult with them."
He raised his eyebrows. "You got ID?" he asked, and I showed him.
"Hell, boy, why didn't you lead with that?" he asked. "We already have several agents as members, and you get discounted rates."
"I'm not actually an agent," I said.
"Close enough," he said. "And your..." he stopped, suddenly realizing that I had introduced all three girls as my fiancรฉes. "Did you say fiancรฉes?"
"These ladies are my fiancรฉes," I repeated.
"That's going to really screw with Clive," he said, and grinned. "There's only one place on the membership form for 'partner.' Family membership is two hundred and forty dollars for the year. That is for two adults and their dependents. You can add extra adults living at the same address for fifty dollars per person per year. Lanes cost ten dollars an hour, plus weapon rental, plus ammunition. You get a fifteen percent discount on all costs with your ID. We provide ear protection and safety glasses, or you can buy them from us. Most don't like to use the communal ones; they are all cleaned between use, but still.
"There is a mandatory range safety session which costs forty-five dollars per person, which you must attend before you can go on the range unaccompanied by an instructor. Once you have done that, you can book a lane on our website, call up, or just walk in first come-first served. I would advise booking though. We are a busy range, and you might not get a lane if you don't."