“Yeah, you’re probably right, but you aren’t seriously thinking about going up against these guys by yourself, are you?”
“What? No. I don’t want to go up against anyone. But what am I going to do? I have to find some way to protect myself.”
“Well, then if you’re serious you should get a gun. At least you will have something. I doubt you will do much good against the mafia, but it’s better than nothing.”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Marla laughed, almost spilling her third beer. I was still on my second and already starting to feel it. But after the past few days I’d had, I needed something to take the edge off.
I ran my hand through my hair and leaned against the porch rail. Marla had a nice place that hid amongst the trees away from the main road just enough that it was hard to be seen. I wished that my place was as hidden from view as hers sometimes. I knew it sounded crazy, but it at least offered a bit more privacy and protection. Or was it less protection since no one could see someone approaching your place?
I groaned and shook my head. I didn’t need all of this in my head. Why couldn’t I just be happy to live my life? Why did I have to make that terrible mistake? The guilt over how I let myself down was horrific. It was all my fault. I’d done this to myself.
“So, what’s the deal with Mason?” Marla asked.
“What?”
She laughed. “Oh, don’t pretend with me. I know you’ve got the hots for him.”
“Where did you get that idea?”
“Because you constantly talk about his kid,” she said.
“So? He is my best student. He is a really, smart kid and I think he has a bright future.”
Marla laughed. “I know you better than that. You told me that he picks up his son and talks with you every day.”
“Yeah, but we never say much. Mostly, it is just brief chit chat. Although yesterday, we did have a conversation. Well, sort of…”
“What do you mean?”
I told her what happened with Mason and I, and by the end of the story she was laughing her head off.
“What?” I asked.
“That guy likes you,” she said.
“I doubt that. He’s Mason Savage. Who am I? I’m a preschool teacher. He isn’t interested in me. He acts like talking to me is torture.”
“So, you do want him to talk to you?” Marla asked.
“No, not necessarily. I just want him to want to talk to me, if that makes sense.”
“Why wouldn’t you want to go out with him?”
“You know his reputation. I don’t want to be just another notch on his bedpost or whatever. Besides with all the stuff I have going on in my life, when am I supposed to make room for any type of romance?”
“Well, it might not be the worst thing to have a little fun thrown in there. Especially, if you are going to die soon.”
My jaw flew open. What did she just say?
“Are you crazy? Why would you say that to me?”
Marla was laughing hysterically. “Because I’m drunk and it’s funny.”
I laughed too. Marla was the craziest person I knew, but she was a great friend and whenever I needed a pep talk or to just feel better about something, she was always there for me. Hanging out with her was making me feel a bit better.
“Well, I’m hoping to avoid death for the time being,” I said. “I’m open for any suggestions.”
Marla regained her composure and thought hard for a moment. “Well, I do know of someone who is offering some free shooting lessons.”
I shook my head. “No. I hate guns.”
“Yeah, but when people with guns want to use guns to kill you,” she said with a shrug. “You do see where I'm going with this?”
I nodded. “Yeah, but guns terrify me. I’m afraid I’ll get freaked out and shoot Chester or something.”
“It might make the cat move for once,” Marla cracked.
“You are so bad. I know you love Chester,” I said.
She nodded. “I do. That cat is rad. I wish I had one.”
“Well, what is stopping you?”
“I’ve always been more of a dog person.”
“Dogs are good,” I said. “But what about this person offering shooting lessons?”
Marla smiled. “I thought you weren’t interested?”
I smirked. “Yeah, just tell me.”
“Well—Dani from work—she gave me a few cards to pass out to people. I guess her boyfriend owns this gun store and it has a range in the back. He also offers gun safety training for carry conceal and so forth.”
“Wow, imagine loving guns to the point that it becomes all you talk about or deal with all day.”
“To each their own,” Marla said. “I’ve never held a gun before either.”
She reached into her purse and handed me the card.
That was two days before. I’d come home from her place and thrown it in this drawer.