Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 73716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“My sister was a nurse,” I said. “Pediatric unit.”
Her eyes went to me.
“Was?”
It was asked so softly that I had to strain to hear her.
But I did.
I nodded. “She died a while back.”
She killed herself, I thought to myself, but I’m not telling you that part. If you knew, then you’d pity me, and I’d be reminded of what a fucking failure I was at life.
“Did she work here?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. Tommy Tom actually got her the job.”
Tommy Tom was a fellow member of The Dixie Wardens MC, and a doctor at the hospital.
“I’ll bet she loved it there. I used to want to go into that area, too.”
“But not anymore?” I asked, pulling the truck in beside another vehicle that I assumed belonged to one of my buddies who was helping me put on the class.
I usually had a lot of help on the range on test days. Watching inexperienced people with loaded guns was enough to get my heart palpitating. Having extra eyes on the gun-toting men and women was key to not getting shot.
“No, not anymore,” Audrey confirmed. “I’m not even sure I want to be a nurse at this point. I’m only doing it now because it’s what brings in the money.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
She looked away and changed the subject.
“I don’t want kids,” she blurted.
My brows rose.
“I don’t either,” I said. “Nothing against them, but I don’t want any of my own. They’re too hard—too demanding. I…” I shook my head. “Just no.”
I put the truck into park and got out, nodding my head at my brother who I could see talking to another guy, whom I assumed was a class attendee.
“You ready?”
She nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Thirty minutes later, I was talking about where guns were and were not allowed to be taken, when Audrey raised her hand.
“What if, say, you know that at one mall entrance, there’s not a no guns allowed sign,” she said. “But you know that there are signs on other entrances to the mall, there just isn’t one at the entrance that you use. Are you still allowed to take it into the mall?”
My lips twitched.
“Yeah, I guess, technically, you’d be allowed to,” I conceded. “But you’re going to have a hard time proving to me that you’ve never, not once, gone into another entrance.”
She pursed her lips.
“Which entrance are you saying is the one that doesn’t have the no guns allowed sign?”
“There’s not one at the Dick’s entrance or the Sears entrance,” she answered quickly. “Though there are ones at the Dillard’s entrance and the entrance at the main part of the mall.”
I shrugged. “I don’t go to the mall so I can’t verify this right off the top of my head. Is there a sign on the wall at the entrance to the mall?”
She shrugged. “Not one that I can remember seeing.”
“The rule about the no guns allowed sign is that it has to be visible. It has to be on contrasting backgrounds, and it has to be posted somewhere that it will be clearly visible as you enter the building,” I explained. “So this would be a question for the mall owner, and once you made him aware of these disparities between the businesses, he’d likely fix them anyway.”
Her mouth twitched, and I had the oddest urge to drop a kiss on top of her upturned lips.
“Once you get your license, you can carry anywhere that doesn’t have this sign posted…unless the owner of the establishment verbally tells you that he or she doesn’t want you to carry there.”
I droned on, stopping periodically to answer questions, most of which came from Audrey.
Her latest question, though, had me stopping in my tracks.
“What happens, say, if you go into a restaurant and someone has their gun drawn and starts shooting,” she questioned. “What should I do? Can I just pull it out and shoot?”
I thought about her question for a moment.
“Yes,” I said. “But you need to consider what’s in the background behind your target. You have to weigh the possible consequences of shooting. Also, what makes you think that the guy shooting is the bad guy?”
Her mouth opened, and then closed.
“Well,” she hesitated.
I grinned. “You’re not sure now, are you?”
“I was at a class a few weeks ago,” I started. “During the class, the instructor gave a PowerPoint presentation. There was one particular slide titled ‘What would you do?’ that stuck with me.” I leaned against my desk and crossed my feet out in front of me. “The scene unfolds like this: a girl is out with her friends. A group of them exit the mall, six or so in total, and they’re all giggling and laughing.”
“So they’re just about to step into the parking lot from the front exit when a van pulls up. Two masked men get out, take hold of a girl who was with the group. She is kicking and screaming, but despite that they force her, bodily, into the van.”