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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
Chapter One
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.