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 fiancées, 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 fiancées. "Did you say fiancées?"
"These ladies are my fiancées," 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."
I paid the membership, and we each bought a set of safety equipment, which we could keep in a locker on the premises for the princely fee of just one dollar per week. The locker was big enough to keep all five sets in. I had bought a set for Ness too. The locker also had a separate inner locked compartment where, had I had my own weapon, I could have stored it.
"Let me give you the tour," he said, "and then Clive can fill out the paperwork with you. CLIVE!!" Another man, about the same age came out of another door. "I'm taking these folks around. Get some membership papers together and watch the counter."
Clive nodded, and I saw a glance between the pair that said that they were more than business partners.
"My name is Dan Cartwright," he said, holding his hand out. "But most here call me 'Hoss.'"
"Really?" asked Amanda, grinning as she glanced down theatrically at the front of his trousers.
He laughed, "If only," he said. "You're probably too young to remember
Bonanza
?" We all nodded. "Well, Google it. You'll see why."
"I'm Caleb," I said, and he shook my hand. The girls introduced themselves and he shook each hand.
"I'm telling you now," he said. "I can't remember names, and since you gals are twins, I have no hope of getting it right, so forgive me.
"You're in luck. We have a lane free, so what I suggest is that I give you a quick safety briefing, then I'll get one of our weapons and give you each some complimentary ammunition. Then we can see what level I think you should start your training at."
He explained the range rules, and gave us each a printed copy, before going to a gun safe and pulling out a weapon in a carrying bag.
After we donned our safety gear, he took us through a door onto the range itself and we walked behind several people who were shooting. Then we got to the empty lane.
Once there, he took the weapon out of the bag, making sure to keep it pointed downrange, and laid it on the table, with the slide locked back and the ejection port on the top. He pulled four magazines out of the bag, loaded them with ammunition, and laid them alongside the gun. He pointed at me, held up one finger and pointed to a magazine, and then stepped back, inviting me to shoot.
I moved into the space and picked up the weapon. Picking up a magazine and making sure to keep my finger off the trigger, I inserted it and unlocked the slide. I then sighted downrange at the target, which looked about ten yards away.
I fired twice, then paused to see where my shots had landed. They were high and to the left of centre mass. I corrected and fired twice more. They were better, but still not spot on. The next two shots were dead center, as were the final two sets. Once I was out of bullets, I ejected the magazine, checked the chamber and laid the gun down, as he had. I stepped back. He nodded at me approvingly. Then he pointed at Mary. She stepped up.
Mary had paid attention, and she too handled the gun safely, although she struggled with the recoil and her shots were all high and scattered. Amanda was also safe, and surprisingly she was better than Mary, but she struggled with the recoil too.
Jules handled the weapon like a professional. Like me, she fired in two-shot bursts, and, like me, her first set was high and slightly wide. Her correction was better than mine, though, and the rest of her shots were center mass. She cleared the weapon and placed it on the table.
Hoss picked it up and put it back in the bag, along with the empty magazines. We followed him out of the range and back to the front desk.
"You said your father-in-law was the marine?" he said to me, and I nodded.
"I'm guessing your daddy?" he asked Jules. She smiled. "For you and Caleb here, I'm going to say that once you have done the range safety course, you can just come and practice. That's all you need. Book online, rent a weapon and buy ammunition. You will be fine with the Glock or a Sig. I would suggest for you ladies," he turned to the twins, "that we start you out with something a little smaller, and you take a few lessons with either myself or Clive. You will get the hang of it soon enough, and then, like your fiancé, you will be okay with the Glock. It just takes experience.
"Come into the office, sit with Clive and fill out your paperwork. He can book you in for your safety course too."
He ushered us into the office where Clive was seated at a computer, and we each pulled up chairs. Hoss had to bring another in from behind the desk so we could all sit.
"So," asked Clive, "who is going to be the primary member?"
"That would be me," I said. He took my details. I was curious - and a bit apprehensive - to see how the pair would navigate our relationship.
