Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“Better,” I tell Rachel. “This seems a little big. Is it comfortable? Nope, finger off the trigger.”
“Maybe something a little smaller?” She scrunches her nose as she places the weapon back down on the carpet-covered table.
“There’s a Ruger at lane four that may be a better fit. Go try it out.”
I step back even further as she heads in that direction.
The women are excited. Some are apprehensive, never having touched a gun before and some are anxious to load up and send some shit down the lane. One woman, Gayle, I’m going to have to ask Wren about because she seems like she’s ready to take someone down at the knees, and there may also be a little hint of vigilante justice in her eyes.
“Strong thighs. I bet that man could go for hours without tiring. His feet. Geez, what are they like, a size thirteen?”
Fifteen, but who honestly cares?
I could tell Parker that I can hear every word she’s saying, but where’s the fun in that?
“How are we doing over here?” I ask as I approach the pair.
Parker is busy ogling me, and Hayden is frowning down at the Glock 43/42 like it’s personally set out to ruin her week.
“How does it feel in your hand?” I ask when she doesn’t answer.
“She hasn’t picked it up yet,” Parker explains, her eyes trailing up and down my body unabashedly.
I focus all of my attention on Hayden. “Are you afraid of it?”
“No,” she answers swiftly.
“Next week we’re going to be shooting, so you’ll need to know which one is most comfortable.” I pick it up and hold it in my hands. I could never use a gun this small. “Hold it like this.”
I demonstrate the proper hold even though my hand is much too big to do it the right way.
“Now you try.”
I place it back on the table and take a step back.
“Excuse me,” I mutter when I bump into Parker.
“My pleasure. I mean sorry.” Parker bites the corner of her lip, and I’m sure any man looking for her kind of trouble would find it appealing, but it doesn’t faze me.
“Go ahead.”
Hayden mutters something about watching TV as she reaches for the Glock.
“Like this,” I say when she finally has it in her hands. I lift my hands and show her the proper grip just like I did for Rachel a few minutes ago.
“It’s heavier than I thought it would be,” she says before putting it back down.
“It’s less than a pound and a half, but it will weigh a little more when it’s loaded. Maybe the Sig Sauer P238 would be better? There’s one down in lane six. Go check it out.” I step out of the way as Parker drags Hayden to the other end of the room, keeping an eye on her as she approaches lane six. She’s still not enthusiastic, but she picks it up, turning it from side to side rather than just glaring at the thing like it personally offended her like she did in lane one when I first approached her.
“What size bullets does this one take?” one of the other women asks.
“Caliber,” I correct. “This one and the Glock in lane one use 9mm rounds.”
“I want something with a lot of power,” Gayle says from lane three.
I head over and explain the difference in ammunition to Gayle but keep my eye on Hayden. It’s clear she doesn’t want to be here. It’s also evident that her friend is beginning to frustrate her with all of her sexualized comments about me. At the same time, I can tell she doesn’t care that I’m even around.
I don’t notice Hayden throwing sly glances my way or looking at me from under her eyelashes. She seems to have a chip on her shoulder about something, and it makes me wonder if there’s more going on in her life than a house break-in. Don’t get me wrong, that’s a serious violation of someone’s life, but she doesn’t seem too enthusiastic about taking back that power and control of her safety.
I regret not looking into her more and reading her entire file, but then I have to remind myself that I’m here to teach a class, not to situate myself into her life beyond these concrete walls.
“You’re not Dirty Harry,” I tell Gayle when she mimics a fast draw from the table, making popping noise with her mouth. “Finger off the trigger unless you plan to shoot. If you do that while it is loaded, then you’re sure to hurt yourself or someone else.”
“No fun,” she grumbles, but she sets the gun back down.
Once everyone has made their way around the room and have all nodded—except for Hayden, of course—when I asked if they found the one they want to start with, I guide them back to the classroom.