Fat Assassins (17 page)

“Or conspiring together to commit murder,” I added, as we pulled into the driveway. Thankfully, there was no sign of the goons. 

She grabbed the grocery bags, while I speed wobbled to the bathroom. A giant greenish, purple welt was forming from my hip to knee. Great. I wouldn’t be wearing a skirt out this weekend. I fluffed my hair, gargled some mouthwash and applied some strawberry lip gloss. I sniffed my armpits and decided to put on another layer of deodorant. 

“Want some popcorn for the movies?”

“Oooohhh. Yeah. I’m starving. Do we have any plain M&Ms? I’m feeling a salty-sweet mood coming on,” I warned, laying down on the couch, bruised hip up. 

“I grabbed some at the store. I’m feeling a salty-sweet mood coming on too.” We usually stocked the house with sweet and salty food once a month for those special cravings. Popcorn and plain M&Ms. Chocolate ice cream and salted walnuts. Salted Watermelon. The list goes on and on.

She handed me a bowl of the candy/microwave popcorn concoction and held up both movies. “Which one first?” she asked.

I pointed at
The Professional
and she popped it into the DVD player. The movie plot was surprisingly good and there were loads of detailed scenes showing how to assemble, dissemble and use a sniper rifle. We were feeling a little bit better about using guns at the halftime intermission. I got up to visit the bathroom groaning with pain. When I got back, she had refilled our snack and handed me two more Tylenol PM pills. 

“Okay. Time for more medicine, missy. I need you in tip-top shape these next few days. We got a job to do,” she explained.

I gulped the pills down with water this time. I softly snored through the rest of the movie and was still dozing on the couch when someone knocked at the door. 

I forced my eyes open and saw Eric’s tall frame shrinking the room as he stepped through the door. He stood there in his uniform talking to Ulyssa, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. 

He looks like one of those Greek warrior statues. A strong jaw, high cheek bones, and slightly curved nose. Looks like it may have been broken once, but that only made him sexier. I bet it was broken in a fist fight with a dangerous criminal! His leather jacket and uniform shirt fit snugly over his broad chest. I want to rip that jacket off him and run my hands over those muscles. 

I felt some drool slide out the slide of my mouth. 

Dang Tylenol! 

I drug my arm to my face wiping the drool off with the back of my sleeve. Busted! He caught me checking him out and drooling. Great!

“You didn’t do that to me, it’s the Tylenol,” I slurred to him. 

OMG! Why did I always say stupid stuff around him? People with Turret's Syndrome have better control over their mouth than me.

“Wow, I’ve never had a woman drool over me. Then you had to go and blame it on drugs,” he said, giving me an injured look.

“She just took some Tylenol for her injury, so she’s a little out of it right now.”

“Ah. In that case I believe your drug alibi. I’m sorry again for hitting you and hope you feel better soon,” he apologized, handing Ulyssa two movies. “Here ya go. I brought both movies, but I can’t stay and watch it with you, Meryl is down in the bed with pneumonia.” 

Meryl Beaumont had been the Nitro Sheriff for the past twenty years and it took doctor’s orders to keep him out of the office. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. Meryl’s a tough ol’ coot. I bet he’ll be back on his feet in no time.”

“Yeah. I’m sure he will be, but ‘til then I’ll pulling double shifts to cover for him.”

“Thanks for the movies. We’ll get ‘em back to you when we’re done.”

“Keep ‘em as long as you want.

“Cool. Thanks.”

“Well, it’s back to work for me,” he said, with a nod. “Y’all have a good night.”

Instead of nodding back, I tried to talk. 

“Bye bye.” My voice came out sounding like Kermit the Frog. 

I should have just nodded.

Surprise crossed his face before he let out a deep, warm laugh. “That is THE best Kermit impression I’ve ever heard.” 

I cursed the Muppets, gave a weak wave and pretended to fall asleep to hide my embarrassment. I opened my eyes as the door clicked closed. 

“Nice possum defense,” she mocked, inserting the Boondock Saints before sitting down on the loveseat. 

The movies were so good, I didn’t nod off once during either of them. When it was over, we looked at each other with confidence.

“We got this!” Ulyssa said. “We just need some guns now.”

Ulyssa stood up and sorted the movies into return piles. “We’ll have to remember and drop these off in the morning, so we don’t get charged for two days.”

Her comment triggered my memory of Tamera’s tattoo. 

“Salvo.”

“What?”

“Didn’t you say Salvo was an underground arms dealer?”

“That’s all speculation though. I’ve never actually heard it from him.”

“We could talk to him and get an idea. Maybe he has a gun we can buy or rent.”

She still wasn’t convinced. “Dang. He’s crazier than Ronnie. Are we sure we want to get mixed up with him?

I thought about my star-crossed romance and sighed. “We’ve got nothing to lose. We’re already part of the criminal underworld now. Do you know where he lives?”

“He’ll probably be at work tomorrow, so we can stop by and talk to him.”

“Are you sure? You’re not going to punch Rick again are you?”

“Maybe. We’ll have to see how it goes,” she grinned.

Ulyssa backed the Pinto into the driveway. We wanted to be sure that we could escape quickly if things got chaotic like they had at Ronnie’s. We stepped out of the car and looked around. This was the address Salvo had given us during lunch, but we weren’t sure if we should knock on the door of the small camper or the concrete bunker. The strains of heavy metal music seeped through the rickety frame of the camper, so we decided to try our luck there first. We banged on the door for ten minutes before Salvo finally heard the noise through a break in the songs. He answered the door looking like he’d just come from a Metallica concert complete with silver gothic cross necklace, stained white tank top tucked into black combat pants.

“Mornin’” We said in unison.

“Howdy! Sorry I didn’t hear ya knocking. Just unwinding from a sale I had this morning. Big spender who wanted to test out a couple high end weapons. I always like to rock the camper after I shoot the big guns.” He grabbed a black leather jacket off a nearby chair and pulled the trailer door closed behind him. 

We crossed the yard and he unlocked the giant bunker door and swung it outwards so we could step inside. “I built this here bunker about ten years ago. It’s made of reinforced concrete so it can withstand just about anything. Temperature and moisture controls keep the environment stable, so things don’t get rusty.” He lovingly patted the wall and continued giving us the tour. “I didn’t get a chance to put away the guns from previous customer, so be careful ‘cause they’re still loaded.”

“Wow.” I blinked at rows of weapons neatly lining each wall.

The room was a giant square, about 10x10 and I’d never seen anything like it before. Six glass showcases were strategically arranged around the room and guns were neatly organized along all the walls tiered into three rows. Soft lighting glinted off the gun barrels and I reached out to caress one of the smaller guns with a pearl inlaid handle.

“Shheeeett. You don’t want that one.” He strode past us to the end of the bunker. “It’s pretty, but a pellet gun has more kick. That’ll just piss off whatever you’re trying to shoot.”

He grabbed a gun from the third row and fit it into his palm. “You can tell the caliber by looking at the markings.” He pointed to the numbers etched along the side of the gun. “This here is a 9MM Berretta. It’s an all purpose, lightweight gun with minimal recoil. Real popular with the military and such. We’ll try one of these.” He tucked it into his righthand waistband. “Y’all planning on shooting at a distance or close range?”

“Close range!” Ulyssa answered. “But we’d like silencers.”

“Hmm.” He walked over to the back wall and pulled down a bigger gun and shoved it into his lefthand waistband. “We’ll try this Desert Eagle too. It’s a badass .50-cal gun. Give me a sec and I’ll dig up something for it.” He pulled a black cylinder and a couple boxes from a filing cabinet. “I don’t get too many requests for silencers. Rednecks tend to like to hear their guns.”

“Do we look like rednecks?”

“I reckon not. I didn’t mean anything by it. What y’all do with the guns is your business just be careful because silencers can only be sold by a Federal Firearms Licensed dealer. As you can tell I ain’t a licensed dealer, so if you get into any trouble don’t tell ‘em where you got the silencer.”

“We don’t plan on getting into any trouble.” Ulyssa reassured him. “A girl just needs to be able to defend herself. You never know who or what is lurking around the corner.”

“Ain’t that the truth! There’s so many sickos in the world nowadays, you cain’t never be too safe. Y’all ready to do this?” We followed him outside and around the side of the bunker to an official looking shooting range. Paper targets were attached to professional looking frames in front of a giant clay embankment. He laid the guns, ammo and cylinders on a table that seemed to mark the beginning of the range. He grabbed safety glasses and hearing protection off the table and handed them to us. I put them on trying not to think about all the germs left over from previous users.

“Have y’all ever fired a gun before?” He didn’t wait for us to answer before beginning to explain the importance of exhaling as you squeezed the trigger. He looked down the barrel and extended his arm holding the 9MM where it was pointing at the targets.

Remembering Tamera’s bullet wound, Ulyssa and I started jumping around like a couple of overexcited penguins, hoping our sporadic movements would prevent us from getting shot when Salvo fired the gun. He discharged two quick shots into the center of the target.

“And that’s how it’s done.” He turned back to us and handed Ulyssa the smoking gun. “See what you think of this one.”

She stepped forward and imitated Salvo’s movements, extending her arms downrange. I started hopping again. You can never be too safe.

Pop.

Wood chips flew off one of the trees behind the shooting range.

“Okay. Try to keep your eyes open.”

Pop.

Dirt flew everywhere as the bullet hit the clay embankment.

“That one was closer. Try exhaling as you squeeeeeezzzzzeeee the trigger.” 

Pop. A hole appeared in the corner of the paper target.

Ulyssa threw her hands in the air and spun towards me landing with a perfect cheerleading victory stance. “I hit it! Did you see it? Did ya? Did ya?” 

I widened my penguin hops.

Salvo grabbed her arms and held them in the air until he wrestled the gun from her.

“Whhhooooaaa! There’s still bullets in there! Here let me show you how to put the safety on.”

Salvo must have mistaken my ricochet shuffle as excitement, because he offered me the gun next. I pretended to be impressed by the weapon, but I had no idea what I was looking at, so I simply hmm’d as I adjusted my grip and looked down the barrel.

Exhale. Squeeze. Pop.

Chunks of clay went flying.

“Good. Just bring it to the left a little bit.”

I adjusted my aim slightly and fired again.

Pop. Pop.

Two holes appeared in the stomach of the silhouette.

“Great job, Annie Oakley!” Ulyssa cheered me on.

“Good shooting! I think you’re a natural.” Salvo said as he took the gun from me and flipped the safety on.

“Let’s try it again with the silencer on so you can see the difference.” He twisted the cylinder onto the end of the barrel and handed it to Ulyssa.

Threrp. Threrp. Threrp.

The silencer made the gunshots sound like a friendly cricket.

Ulyssa hit the clay once and target twice this time. All three of my shots landed in the target’s midsection again.

Salvo slapped me on the back like a proud parent. “Good shooting! Y’all ready to graduate?” He grabbed the bigger gun and loaded some shells. He double checked the safety before handing it to Ulyssa.

“Yeah. This feels good. Heavier.” She turned it sideways looking at the design and excitedly whispered to me. “I think this was one of the guns from Boondock Saints!”

“Alright. Step up and give it a go. This one has a little bit more kick than the 9MM.”

The power of the gun rocked Ulyssa’s arms into the air as the barrel recoiled cracking her in the forehead. She took a few steps backwards and fell on her butt.

“What the hell?!” She yelled at Salvo. I could barely hear her over the ringing in my ears.

“I told you it had more kick.” He extended a hand and grabbed the gun. “You handled the 9MM pretty good, so I thought you’d be able to handle the Desert Eagle.”

Now he was challenging her ego. She jumped up, wiped the blood off her nose and grabbed the gun. “I’m fine! It just surprised me.” 

He winked at me. “Okay. Let’s try it with the suppressor this time.” Ulyssa turned her head away and flinched a few times before she actually pulled the trigger again. The gun still bucked, but it wasn’t as bad as the first shot.