THE GUN
Johnny Carter smiled as he flipped through the large stack of bills that lay on his desk. "I underestimated you, Ike. You know I wasn't too keen on this whole poker idea of yours, but I think it's growing on me. Depression, my ass, I didn't know Tulsa had this much money hiding under its mattresses."
Isaac didn't necessarily feel good about what he was doing. Several nights a week, he overcharged the fees to play and set the percentages of the pots too high. He collected tips from men who didn't have it and he watched men lose their life savings to their addictions. Just tonight he'd watched a man bet what was left of his baby's milk money until payday and Isaac had to stack the cards in the mans' favor just to help him win it back because his conscience couldn't deal with the guilt. However, Johnny Carter seemed to be happy with his progress and he hadn't heard the words "pine box" since he'd first suggested the poker game.
"The players are getting more invested," Isaac reported. "They're taking bigger risks. Last night I had a doctor from another county. They're starting to come from all over. The money's getting bigger. Someone even made the comment that they'd always wanted to try their hand against one of the Incredible Hansons."
"How'd he do?" Johnny asked, amused.
Isaac smiled. "Well, he lost, naturally."
"So you're playing, too?"
"Not often, though the bets do seem to get bigger on the rare occasion I'm specifically requested to be dealt in."
"These men are requesting you?"
"It's like I told you before, Johnny. Men can't resist a challenge."
"Who's dealing while you're playing?"
"Judith," Isaac answered simply.
Johnny scoffed a hearty laugh and he wiped his nose as if it itched. "You're kidding, right? Isn't this one of those things you do in your act? Play mind games and such?"
"I'm one hundred percent serious."
"Come on, Ike. She's a woman."
"A woman who learned everything she knows directly from me. She's a great little card dealer. She might start giving me a run for my money, here, pretty soon."
"As long as I get a cut of it," Johnny said, smirking at his own pun. Then he prepared a cigar and lit it up, shoving it between his teeth and sitting back in his chair. "Well? I gave you your cut already. Why are you still here?"
"I need a gun."
Johnny's eyes widened as he puffed the cigar smoke. "Well this just took an interesting turn. What makes you think I'm gonna help you get a gun?"
"I'm not asking you to help me get one. I'm asking you if you know somebody who could help me get one."
"You aiming to off somebody?"
"Nope. It's personal."
"Well if you want my help with such an investment, I need to know who I'm giving that kind of help to, and why."
"It's not for me. And it's just for protection, there are no plans for it."
Johnny tapped his ashes out into the tray, the sickening sweet scent of the tobacco filling the room and causing Isaac to become nauseated. "This got anything to do with the way your baby brother got his ass handed to him last week?"
"It'd be best if you watched your tone when you talk about my family."
"It'd be best if you watched your tone with me," Johnny warned, raising an eyebrow. Then his face relaxed again. "Besides, I'm on your side. I happened to be there with my old lady, I saw what happened. I never liked those football punks, anyway. They did him wrong, Ike. They did him wrong. If it'd been me, I'd have issued a hit on them before they ever even made it into the squad cars."
"Yeah, well. I ain't aiming to have anybody killed, but I'd at least like to know that nobody's gonna mess with him again. You know what I mean? Those boys seem to be a little too interested in Bessie and I aim to find out why. Cause it's putting my brother into some bad situations, one right after the other."
"Those boys couldn't give a damn about that dame," Johnny said. "Whatever they got is strictly for your brother. That little dame is merely a pawn. He done wronged one of them and now they're all out to get him. And now that they've all been charged in that incident, you think it's over? No, sir, it's only the beginning. Those boys are gonna finish off your brother before it's over with and they'll never be able to prove it cause District Attorney Connors is gonna hide that evidence like it's one of your disappearing acts in your show. That smooth, my friend. That smooth."
Taking his words in, Isaac stood a little straighter and adjusted his tie. "You know something about something?"
"Nope. I've seen this kind of thing over and over again. Two guys get in a little tiff about something and then all of a sudden all his little chums are ready to beat up on the opposing guy. In your brother's case, your brother busted up a football star--busted his ego and his ribs and took his lady. And now his chances of playing next year are questionable. It'd been one thing if your brother had simply roughed him up a little bit, but now it's affected his future career. And that, my friend, is what made it personal."
"How do you know all this?"
"Come on, Ike," Johnny smiled as he sat back in his chair once again. "I know everybody. And everybody knows me. And what's going on between your brother and Billy Connors is the talk of the bar lately. Except nobody's brave enough to mention it on the nights you're in there running the games."
"They better not be brave enough," Isaac muttered through his teeth.
Johnny continued to puff his cigarette with a seemingly permanent smile across his lips as he studied Isaac for a moment. Then he sat up again and grabbed up a sheet of paper and started to write on it. "Here," he said as he wrote. "I know a guy who sells weapons on the down low. Real decent prices, quality pieces. He'll treat you good, especially if you tell him I sent you. Here's how to find him and here's the best times to reach him."
Isaac left the lumber yard several minutes later with his mind running a mile a minute. He was amazed at how much information Johnny was able to provide on what was going on with Billy's gang against Zac, but the truth was, it was merely all speculation--and all very much likely to be true. He felt like an idiot for not being able to deduce those things for himself given the information that he had to work with. However, now he felt like he had the tools to stay one step ahead of those boys for the next couple of months until school started back up--and help keep his brother safe from another attack.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
Sunday morning was bright and hot. It had been just over a week since the incident at the picture show and Zac's black eye was now only a slight discoloration around his eye. The cuts on his mouth and brow had disappeared and his cheek was now only slightly bruised. Bessie had come to the trailer nearly every day to check on his face and make sure he was healing nicely. He couldn't have asked for a better nurse or for a better woman.
This morning, however, she was absent. For the second Sunday in a row, she had invited him to church with her and her parents, and for the second Sunday in a row, he had turned her down. It wasn't that he was totally against going to church--though he was fairly certain that he and God had a few things that needed ironing out--but it was mostly because she had invited him to Sunday dinner with extended family immediately following and he didn't really want his first impression to be with a beat-up face. Not to mention being a has-been and rubbing elbows with the wealthy made him feel funny. One of these days he would accept, especially for Bessie, but it wouldn't be today. Today, he stood half a mile from the gypsy camp with his brothers and some of the other men from the camp for a little round of target practice with random projectile weapons.
They stood in the clearing and shot at old, ragged bed sheets that were pinned against trees. Some were bare, some had targets painted on. They took turns shooting with hunting rifles, bows and arrows, and even humored a couple of the younger boys with slingshots. Most of the target-shooting was harmless fun--although, Zac could count a bird or two that didn't make it out alive.
While Taylor stood off with a couple of the gypsy men as they reloaded and shot their weapons, Isaac stepped aside with Zac and reached into his pocket. "I brought you something," Isaac said solemnly as he pulled the pistol out of his pocket and revealed it in his palm.
Zac was astonished by the offering, and a little confused. He knew Isaac was into a few things that he didn't agree with, but he never thought he'd ever know him to walk around with a gun. Zac was stunned. He didn't know what he was supposed to think.
"It's a Colt .38," Isaac continued. "It's a four-inch barrel, but it gets the job done. Don't be fooled by its small size, she packs a lot of punch."
Finally, pulling his gaze away from the small, black piece, he looked his older brother in the eye. "What's this about?"
"It's for you. For protection. So those goons, or any other goons, never fuck with you again. It's so you can defend yourself."
"Ike, I don't--I don't need a gun. How did you even pay for this?"
"I bought it off a guy, secondhand. He gave me a good deal on it. Gave me ammo and everything."
"I don't...I don't think things are quite this drastic..."
"Look. I heard some things," Isaac said quietly. "Okay? Johnny Carter seems to think this ain't over yet. He made a lot of good points. Did you know that Billy Connors's football career might be in the can due to those broken ribs?"
"It was either going to be his ribs or his drinking that did it to him," Zac muttered dryly.
"I'm serious," Isaac said quietly. "If he gets desperate enough, I don't think I have to tell you what a desperate man is capable of."
"Please," Zac scoffed. "The guy's a chump. He's not smart enough to be capable of anything."
"Look. You're my brother. And you're lucky you only came home with a black eye. What if you hadn't come home at all? What if you could have pulled this out and kept them at bay before they even got to you?"
"Ike, I can't just whip something like this out in public. Would you rather I come home with a black eye or do time in jail--again?"
"I bet if they knew you had it on you, they wouldn't mess with you again."
Zac looked at the small pistol again in thought. Isaac had a point. And Zac hadn't wanted to admit it, but he'd been watching his back a little bit since the attack had happened. He would never admit to anyone, even to Bessie or his brothers, that he'd been a little nervous to go anywhere since that night. Two days later, on Saturday, he had even gone and worked at the feed store, much to Bessie's dismay, and he had been nervous then, watching his back the entire walk there. He didn't want to have to watch his back all the time--especially because of some school-age punks. That was no way for a man to live.
Glancing at Isaac once more, he finally reached for the gun and took it in his hand. It seemed to fit nicely, the slight curve in the handle comfortably cradled in his palm. It was a manageable size, not bulky, and just small enough not to be easily recognized through any clothing. Turning it over in his own hand, Zac found himself nodding in agreement. "I suppose I could try it out for size. I mean, you have a point. You can never be too careful, right?"
"It would make me feel better knowing you had it."
Zac didn't respond to that comment. He didn't want Isaac to know he shared the sentiment. "Is there enough to spare so that I can test it out?" He asked, referring to the ammunition that came with it.
"Yeah. Sure," Isaac said enthusiastically. "I can get more from my guy, no sweat."
Zac looked at his brother and furrowed his brow. "I can't believe you have a 'guy.' "
Isaac shrugged. "I get what I need."
Zac scowled at him, appreciative of the gift, but he still didn't agree with the avenues it took for him to get it.
Walking past him, with the gun making a comfortable nest inside his hand, he walked over to where Taylor and the other gypsy men were standing and took his stance. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Taylor look at him, and then do a wide-eyed double-take at the sight of the weapon. "Zac!" He hissed. "Where the hell did you get that?"
And then Zac fired a shot, the pop ringing throughout the clearing, watching the sheet that he'd shot at ripple from the impact. He couldn't deny it--he liked how it felt. He liked how it sounded, he liked how easy it was to pull the trigger. It released a surge of testosterone and adrenaline through his body that made a smile creep across his face and he looked over to his left at Isaac. "That's not bad."
Isaac smiled and stepped closer to him. "Good. I had to pick the cheapest one. But he said it was a good little pistol--"
"You?" Taylor said, nearly tripping over himself to get in the middle of the conversation. "You did this?"
"Yeah," Isaac said. "I wanted to make sure what happened last week didn't happen again."
"I'm pretty sure it's not gonna happen again, I think everybody got what they were gonna get," Taylor objected incredulously.
"Wanna try it?" Zac said, offering it to him. "It's pretty smooth."
"I have no use for that thing," Taylor sneered.
"Don't be a wuss," Isaac taunted him. "You have no problem toting the hell out of that shotgun over there."
"That's...well, that's different."
"How?" Isaac prodded.
Glowering, Taylor looked from Isaac to Zac and then he finally held out his hand. "Fine. I'll just show you boys how it's done and get it out of the way."
Zac and Isaac both scoffed laughs. "Whoa!" Isaac chided him. "That's big talk, coming from a wuss!"
But, sure enough, Taylor delivered, the sheet barely rippling with the hole he shot in the dead center of it. Smirking, he looked over at his brothers. "Who's the wuss now?"
"Beginner's luck," Zac said. "I bet you couldn't do it again."
"I'm not a beginner."
"You've never shot anything smaller than that shotgun over there."
Looking around, Taylor smirked and raised an eyebrow, lowering his voice, "That's what the ladies tell me."
Zac took off his cap and threw it at his brother. While he was at it, he took the tie out of his ponytail and had intended on retying it, when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye to his left and turned to find Bessie standing there, causing him to completely forget about his hair and letting it fall onto his shoulders. A smile spread across his face in an instant. "Hey, sweetheart. What are you doing here so early?"
Her eyes darted behind him as his brothers and the gypsy men stood around and discussed the differences between handguns and shotguns. "Um, well I came to invite you to Sunday dinner--again--but it seems that I'm intruding..."
"Nah, you're not intruding. We're not doing anything, just standing around, shooting some targets and just doing what men do. No big deal."
"Oh," she replied, her eyes still wary of what she'd walked up on. Despite her facial expression, she was a vision in her baby blue day dress with the tiny flowers all over it and her white cloche Sunday hat. Admittedly, he could have done without the hat, but she looked cute, anyway.
"You know how I feel about Sunday dinner," he said. "Just--just give me another week, I should be good as new by next Sunday--"
"You look fine now," she said. "There's nothing wrong with you."
"I just--I don't want these reminders all over my face when I meet your family for the first time. I want a clean slate."
Bessie nodded, but he could tell she was disappointed. "Well. Okay," she said, quietly. "I can respect that."
"Zac," Isaac said all of a sudden, barely noticing Bessie was there. "Come check this out, look what we figured out on this thing."
Not wanting to ignore Bessie, Zac momentarily had a hard time deciding what to do. Finally, he said to Bessie, "Give me just two seconds, okay?"
She simply nodded, without a word.
Zac was too distracted by Bessie's presence to listen to anything Taylor and Isaac were trying to tell him. All he knew was that Isaac was turning the gun over in Zac's hand and spinning something and pulling something else and Zac wasn't paying a bit of attention. Next thing he knew, with the coaching of his brothers, he was aiming the gun at the sheet, once again, and firing another shot.
A yelp from his left side caused him to look next to him and his face fell at the sight. She stood there, her hands over her hat and ears, her eyes wide, reading a deadly combination of fear, confusion, and bewilderment. He knew right then in that moment that something wasn't quite right.
"I can't do this," he suddenly muttered to Isaac, shoving the gun back in his hand.
"What?" Isaac replied, confused. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I just--I just can't. I appreciate the offer, I do, but I just can't do it."
"Zac, you're being crazy--"
Maybe he was crazy. He didn't know and he didn't care. All he knew was that crazy was not firing off a pistol--crazy was watching the love of his life disappear out of fear.
She was far ahead of him, walking briskly, almost to a run. Zac had to trot to catch up with her, through the grass, past the trees on the edge of the woods. The sun shone down upon them with fierce power, but no amount of sun could break up the storm cloud in the shape of his heart that felt ready to explode.
"Bessie," he said catching up to her and taking her hand to stop her. "Where are you going? What's wrong?"
To his surprise, she jerked her hand from his and stepped away from him, clutching her hands behind her back.
"Bessie," he whispered in confusion, his feelings hurt by the gesture. "You're acting like...are you--are you afraid of me?"
And then the words he dreaded hearing: "This is too fast. This is--things are just going much too fast. I can't--I can't handle it--"
He was certain that his heart would pound right out of his chest. "What are you talking about?"
"This. Everything. All of this. I never even liked a boy before you, Zac. Things were so easy before when all we did was sit under trees and read poetry and pick flowers. And--and now all of a sudden, I'm having sex and jumping in the middle of fights and watching you shoot guns and--"
Suddenly, in a matter of seconds, Zac's temper was hot. "I never asked you to step into anything! If it was that much trouble, you could have left well enough alone!"
"I couldn't let them hurt you--!"
"And if I knew you were going to regret making love, I would never have touched you! You said it was okay! Remember? And now you wanna go back on it?"
Bessie began to shake her head. "I didn't say that--"
"Then what did you say, Bessie? What does this even mean?"
"I mean it's too fast! I can't even keep up anymore!"
"What's to keep up with? This is life, Bessie! Life changes on a dime every single day! You never know what you're going to wake up to! I didn't wake up in the morning knowing I was going to find you, I didn't wake up in the morning knowing I was getting my ass kicked, and I certainly didn't wake up this morning knowing that my brother was going to gift me with a form of protection! But you know what? I appreciate him for it. He's looking out for me like a brother should! And I'm going to accept his gift and I'm going to learn to use it and I'm going to carry it because, goddamn it, Bessie, nobody nowhere is ever going to put their hands on you or me ever again. You got that?"
"No," she said, shaking her head. "Not like that. Not like--that's not you, Zac. It's--carrying a gun is not you--"
"THIS IS WHO I AM, BESSIE! THIS IS IT! THIS IS ME! YOU KNEW WHAT YOU SIGNED UP FOR WHEN YOU AGREED TO BE MY GIRL! IF YOU WANT TO GO BACK ON IT, BE MY GUEST! I WASN'T AWARE THAT THIS RELATIONSHIP CAME WITH STIPULATIONS!"
Bessie's chest heaved as she backed up another step and attempted to keep herself together. "I just asked you to slow down a little--"
"Slow down? That's funny, because I didn't hear you ask me anything."
"I've already said it several times, Zac. You're not listening to me!"
"No. I heard you," he replied, his voice calm and his breathing heavy with adrenaline and defeat. "I heard you loud and clear. You know what, maybe you're right. This is too fast for you. You're just--you are a little too young for this, I think."
He could tell that his comment cut her deep when her jaw dropped in absolute devastation. He would have felt rotten for it had his current state of rage not been at the forefront of his emotions at the moment.
"Just--just go home, Bessie," he finally said, exasperated. "Just go home."
As he turned and walked away from her, her small voice finally creaked out, "Zac."
"What?" He spat, turning around and running a hand through his hair.
She wrung her hands in front of her and she glanced down at them before she looked back up at him. "I love you. I don't think I'm too young for that."
Zac's heart melted in an instant. It took him merely a split second to make the decision to close the gap between them and scoop her off the ground by her waist, closing his mouth over hers in desperate emotion. As she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck in response, he whispered between kisses, "I'm so sorry I scared you."
"I'm not scared of you," she whispered back. "I promise."
"I don't ever want to see you look at me that way again."
"I didn't look at you any kind of way," she said, shaking her head.
He smiled as he lowered her back onto her feet. "You did," he nodded. "You looked absolutely terrified."
"Well--the gun was loud..."
"No," he said softly. "Baby, you weren't looking at the gun. You were looking at me."
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just--I guess seeing you with a gun in your hand was a little...disconcerting..."
"I want you to feel safe with me, Bessie. You know I'll never hurt you."
"I know."
"I'm sorry I yelled and...and said what I said. I didn't really want you to go home. I need you too much, I've--I've never needed anyone the way I need you."
"Zac..."
"I mean it, Bess. I'm gonna be better. I promise."
Bessie shook her head and swept a strand of hair out of his face. "I don't want you to be better. I want you just like this--as yourself. I don't want you to--to try to change something about yourself every time I have a reaction to something. If you did that, I wouldn't know who you are anymore."
"That's what I felt like when you looked at me the way you did. You looked at me like I was a stranger. A threatening one. I didn't like that. I won't carry the gun. Okay? I'll just--it'll sit in the trailer, packed away, and I won't carry it with me."
"If you think it'll make you feel safer, then carry it. I don't want you to feel...vulnerable, just because I'm a wimp. It's none of my business anyway."
"Except that it is your business. Everything that I say and do is your business. All of it. I have nothing to hide from you." Then he looked her over and thought about the past week and the way she took care of him and he came to a realization, a smile creeping across his face. "Say, you wanna go sit under our tree?"
"Well--well, I didn't come here to intrude on your time with your brothers--"
"It's okay, I was missing you anyway. I've just...spent this entire week leaning and depending on you that we haven't really...you know, done anything just for you lately."
Bessie blinked at him for a moment, obvious that she hadn't put any thought into it. "Um. Well. Taking care of you is for me."
"No," he smiled, shaking his head. "It's not. That was me getting spoiled and reaping all the benefits. Enjoyable, yes. But fair? No."
"I didn't think about it that way..."
"I know. That's why I love you."
"Okay," she said. "I'd, uh, I'd like that. But first, do you think...well, do you think you might let me try to shoot the gun a couple of times?"
The shock hit Zac like a ton of bricks. He knew women were crazy, but his head had never spun quite like this before. Did she like the damned gun or not? "Uh...you want to shoot it? I thought you were afraid of it?"
"Well...I don't know, maybe I figure that if I shot it a little bit I might not be so afraid."
Zac couldn't argue with that logic. Nor could he contain his excitement that Bessie was actually willing to keep an open mind about the gun. With a smile, he took her by the hand and the pair turned around and headed back to the clearing.
The smile still on his face, Zac approached Isaac and took the gun out of his hand. "Clear the way, boys," he boasted proudly. "My lady wants to try her hand at my gun."
Taylor snickered and Zac glared at him.
"Are you sure?" Isaac asked. "Ladies shouldn't handle guns, it ain't proper--"
"Oh, it's plenty proper," Taylor interjected.
"Shut up, Tay!" Zac and Isaac said in unison.
"You guys are no fun," he muttered with a scowl.
Ignoring him, Zac turned and handed the gun to Bessie, fitting it into her hand and positioning her fingers around the handle. Her hand trembled just slightly. "Bessie. It's okay. If you don't want to do it--"
"Show me what to do," she said quietly.
"Well," he replied gently, pointing at the target sheet. "You see those sheets on those trees over there? You just aim at one and...pull the trigger. It'll be loud, though."
Bessie nodded. "Well, that sounds easy enough."
Zac smiled. "Long as you aim it right."
He stood behind her as she took a stance in the same place he and his brothers had been standing. He heard her lightly clear her throat as she raised the gun in front of her, her entire body trembling now, including her hand. "Bessie," he whispered, placing a hand on her waist. "You have to relax. It's always easier when you relax." Then he smirked. "Remember?"
This made her blush and giggle a little and Zac grinned at how cute she was. "Okay," she whispered, standing a little straighter, aiming the gun once again. "Are you ready?"
"Baby, I've been ready. I'm waiting on you."
And then she squeezed her eyes shut and she pulled the trigger.
The sheet didn't ripple. None of them did. As a matter of fact, Zac was fairly certain that she hadn't hit any of the sheets at all. Where that bullet ended up would remain a mystery.
Bessie's reaction, however, was that of startled surprise. She began to tremble again, the gun unsteady in her hand as she jerked her hand back and spun around, shaking her head. "Zac, I can't. I just can't--"
A chorus of "Whoa!" and "Hey!" rang out as his brothers and the other gypsies moved and ducked at the gun that waved unsteadily in the air.
"Bessie!" Zac hissed, closing his hand around the small gun and removing it from her hand. "You can't be that careless with a gun in your hand!"
"Then you keep it. Just--just you shoot it, I don't want to. Isaac's right, ladies shouldn't shoot guns."
Zac chuckled as he turned the gun over in his hand. "Okay. Okay, then. You just watch me, then. Are you okay with that?"
Bessie nodded. "As long as it's not me."
Switching places with her, Zac picked his target and shot at it, his aim better than the last time he fired the gun, giving Bessie the play-by-play on what he was doing and how he was doing it. Before long, as he shot at the target, it was as if he and Bessie were the only two in the clearing. He didn't see anyone, he didn't hear anyone--he only felt his love's arms around his waist and her breath on his ear as she cheered excitedly for him with each shot. He was going to keep his promise to Bessie and not carry the gun. This was all he needed. He'd never felt the support of a good woman like this before and it was a feeling he'd decided that he was completely addicted to. Once again, Zac was absolutely, helplessly at Bessie's mercy.
Johnny Carter smiled as he flipped through the large stack of bills that lay on his desk. "I underestimated you, Ike. You know I wasn't too keen on this whole poker idea of yours, but I think it's growing on me. Depression, my ass, I didn't know Tulsa had this much money hiding under its mattresses."
Isaac didn't necessarily feel good about what he was doing. Several nights a week, he overcharged the fees to play and set the percentages of the pots too high. He collected tips from men who didn't have it and he watched men lose their life savings to their addictions. Just tonight he'd watched a man bet what was left of his baby's milk money until payday and Isaac had to stack the cards in the mans' favor just to help him win it back because his conscience couldn't deal with the guilt. However, Johnny Carter seemed to be happy with his progress and he hadn't heard the words "pine box" since he'd first suggested the poker game.
"The players are getting more invested," Isaac reported. "They're taking bigger risks. Last night I had a doctor from another county. They're starting to come from all over. The money's getting bigger. Someone even made the comment that they'd always wanted to try their hand against one of the Incredible Hansons."
"How'd he do?" Johnny asked, amused.
Isaac smiled. "Well, he lost, naturally."
"So you're playing, too?"
"Not often, though the bets do seem to get bigger on the rare occasion I'm specifically requested to be dealt in."
"These men are requesting you?"
"It's like I told you before, Johnny. Men can't resist a challenge."
"Who's dealing while you're playing?"
"Judith," Isaac answered simply.
Johnny scoffed a hearty laugh and he wiped his nose as if it itched. "You're kidding, right? Isn't this one of those things you do in your act? Play mind games and such?"
"I'm one hundred percent serious."
"Come on, Ike. She's a woman."
"A woman who learned everything she knows directly from me. She's a great little card dealer. She might start giving me a run for my money, here, pretty soon."
"As long as I get a cut of it," Johnny said, smirking at his own pun. Then he prepared a cigar and lit it up, shoving it between his teeth and sitting back in his chair. "Well? I gave you your cut already. Why are you still here?"
"I need a gun."
Johnny's eyes widened as he puffed the cigar smoke. "Well this just took an interesting turn. What makes you think I'm gonna help you get a gun?"
"I'm not asking you to help me get one. I'm asking you if you know somebody who could help me get one."
"You aiming to off somebody?"
"Nope. It's personal."
"Well if you want my help with such an investment, I need to know who I'm giving that kind of help to, and why."
"It's not for me. And it's just for protection, there are no plans for it."
Johnny tapped his ashes out into the tray, the sickening sweet scent of the tobacco filling the room and causing Isaac to become nauseated. "This got anything to do with the way your baby brother got his ass handed to him last week?"
"It'd be best if you watched your tone when you talk about my family."
"It'd be best if you watched your tone with me," Johnny warned, raising an eyebrow. Then his face relaxed again. "Besides, I'm on your side. I happened to be there with my old lady, I saw what happened. I never liked those football punks, anyway. They did him wrong, Ike. They did him wrong. If it'd been me, I'd have issued a hit on them before they ever even made it into the squad cars."
"Yeah, well. I ain't aiming to have anybody killed, but I'd at least like to know that nobody's gonna mess with him again. You know what I mean? Those boys seem to be a little too interested in Bessie and I aim to find out why. Cause it's putting my brother into some bad situations, one right after the other."
"Those boys couldn't give a damn about that dame," Johnny said. "Whatever they got is strictly for your brother. That little dame is merely a pawn. He done wronged one of them and now they're all out to get him. And now that they've all been charged in that incident, you think it's over? No, sir, it's only the beginning. Those boys are gonna finish off your brother before it's over with and they'll never be able to prove it cause District Attorney Connors is gonna hide that evidence like it's one of your disappearing acts in your show. That smooth, my friend. That smooth."
Taking his words in, Isaac stood a little straighter and adjusted his tie. "You know something about something?"
"Nope. I've seen this kind of thing over and over again. Two guys get in a little tiff about something and then all of a sudden all his little chums are ready to beat up on the opposing guy. In your brother's case, your brother busted up a football star--busted his ego and his ribs and took his lady. And now his chances of playing next year are questionable. It'd been one thing if your brother had simply roughed him up a little bit, but now it's affected his future career. And that, my friend, is what made it personal."
"How do you know all this?"
"Come on, Ike," Johnny smiled as he sat back in his chair once again. "I know everybody. And everybody knows me. And what's going on between your brother and Billy Connors is the talk of the bar lately. Except nobody's brave enough to mention it on the nights you're in there running the games."
"They better not be brave enough," Isaac muttered through his teeth.
Johnny continued to puff his cigarette with a seemingly permanent smile across his lips as he studied Isaac for a moment. Then he sat up again and grabbed up a sheet of paper and started to write on it. "Here," he said as he wrote. "I know a guy who sells weapons on the down low. Real decent prices, quality pieces. He'll treat you good, especially if you tell him I sent you. Here's how to find him and here's the best times to reach him."
Isaac left the lumber yard several minutes later with his mind running a mile a minute. He was amazed at how much information Johnny was able to provide on what was going on with Billy's gang against Zac, but the truth was, it was merely all speculation--and all very much likely to be true. He felt like an idiot for not being able to deduce those things for himself given the information that he had to work with. However, now he felt like he had the tools to stay one step ahead of those boys for the next couple of months until school started back up--and help keep his brother safe from another attack.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
Sunday morning was bright and hot. It had been just over a week since the incident at the picture show and Zac's black eye was now only a slight discoloration around his eye. The cuts on his mouth and brow had disappeared and his cheek was now only slightly bruised. Bessie had come to the trailer nearly every day to check on his face and make sure he was healing nicely. He couldn't have asked for a better nurse or for a better woman.
This morning, however, she was absent. For the second Sunday in a row, she had invited him to church with her and her parents, and for the second Sunday in a row, he had turned her down. It wasn't that he was totally against going to church--though he was fairly certain that he and God had a few things that needed ironing out--but it was mostly because she had invited him to Sunday dinner with extended family immediately following and he didn't really want his first impression to be with a beat-up face. Not to mention being a has-been and rubbing elbows with the wealthy made him feel funny. One of these days he would accept, especially for Bessie, but it wouldn't be today. Today, he stood half a mile from the gypsy camp with his brothers and some of the other men from the camp for a little round of target practice with random projectile weapons.
They stood in the clearing and shot at old, ragged bed sheets that were pinned against trees. Some were bare, some had targets painted on. They took turns shooting with hunting rifles, bows and arrows, and even humored a couple of the younger boys with slingshots. Most of the target-shooting was harmless fun--although, Zac could count a bird or two that didn't make it out alive.
While Taylor stood off with a couple of the gypsy men as they reloaded and shot their weapons, Isaac stepped aside with Zac and reached into his pocket. "I brought you something," Isaac said solemnly as he pulled the pistol out of his pocket and revealed it in his palm.
Zac was astonished by the offering, and a little confused. He knew Isaac was into a few things that he didn't agree with, but he never thought he'd ever know him to walk around with a gun. Zac was stunned. He didn't know what he was supposed to think.
"It's a Colt .38," Isaac continued. "It's a four-inch barrel, but it gets the job done. Don't be fooled by its small size, she packs a lot of punch."
Finally, pulling his gaze away from the small, black piece, he looked his older brother in the eye. "What's this about?"
"It's for you. For protection. So those goons, or any other goons, never fuck with you again. It's so you can defend yourself."
"Ike, I don't--I don't need a gun. How did you even pay for this?"
"I bought it off a guy, secondhand. He gave me a good deal on it. Gave me ammo and everything."
"I don't...I don't think things are quite this drastic..."
"Look. I heard some things," Isaac said quietly. "Okay? Johnny Carter seems to think this ain't over yet. He made a lot of good points. Did you know that Billy Connors's football career might be in the can due to those broken ribs?"
"It was either going to be his ribs or his drinking that did it to him," Zac muttered dryly.
"I'm serious," Isaac said quietly. "If he gets desperate enough, I don't think I have to tell you what a desperate man is capable of."
"Please," Zac scoffed. "The guy's a chump. He's not smart enough to be capable of anything."
"Look. You're my brother. And you're lucky you only came home with a black eye. What if you hadn't come home at all? What if you could have pulled this out and kept them at bay before they even got to you?"
"Ike, I can't just whip something like this out in public. Would you rather I come home with a black eye or do time in jail--again?"
"I bet if they knew you had it on you, they wouldn't mess with you again."
Zac looked at the small pistol again in thought. Isaac had a point. And Zac hadn't wanted to admit it, but he'd been watching his back a little bit since the attack had happened. He would never admit to anyone, even to Bessie or his brothers, that he'd been a little nervous to go anywhere since that night. Two days later, on Saturday, he had even gone and worked at the feed store, much to Bessie's dismay, and he had been nervous then, watching his back the entire walk there. He didn't want to have to watch his back all the time--especially because of some school-age punks. That was no way for a man to live.
Glancing at Isaac once more, he finally reached for the gun and took it in his hand. It seemed to fit nicely, the slight curve in the handle comfortably cradled in his palm. It was a manageable size, not bulky, and just small enough not to be easily recognized through any clothing. Turning it over in his own hand, Zac found himself nodding in agreement. "I suppose I could try it out for size. I mean, you have a point. You can never be too careful, right?"
"It would make me feel better knowing you had it."
Zac didn't respond to that comment. He didn't want Isaac to know he shared the sentiment. "Is there enough to spare so that I can test it out?" He asked, referring to the ammunition that came with it.
"Yeah. Sure," Isaac said enthusiastically. "I can get more from my guy, no sweat."
Zac looked at his brother and furrowed his brow. "I can't believe you have a 'guy.' "
Isaac shrugged. "I get what I need."
Zac scowled at him, appreciative of the gift, but he still didn't agree with the avenues it took for him to get it.
Walking past him, with the gun making a comfortable nest inside his hand, he walked over to where Taylor and the other gypsy men were standing and took his stance. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Taylor look at him, and then do a wide-eyed double-take at the sight of the weapon. "Zac!" He hissed. "Where the hell did you get that?"
And then Zac fired a shot, the pop ringing throughout the clearing, watching the sheet that he'd shot at ripple from the impact. He couldn't deny it--he liked how it felt. He liked how it sounded, he liked how easy it was to pull the trigger. It released a surge of testosterone and adrenaline through his body that made a smile creep across his face and he looked over to his left at Isaac. "That's not bad."
Isaac smiled and stepped closer to him. "Good. I had to pick the cheapest one. But he said it was a good little pistol--"
"You?" Taylor said, nearly tripping over himself to get in the middle of the conversation. "You did this?"
"Yeah," Isaac said. "I wanted to make sure what happened last week didn't happen again."
"I'm pretty sure it's not gonna happen again, I think everybody got what they were gonna get," Taylor objected incredulously.
"Wanna try it?" Zac said, offering it to him. "It's pretty smooth."
"I have no use for that thing," Taylor sneered.
"Don't be a wuss," Isaac taunted him. "You have no problem toting the hell out of that shotgun over there."
"That's...well, that's different."
"How?" Isaac prodded.
Glowering, Taylor looked from Isaac to Zac and then he finally held out his hand. "Fine. I'll just show you boys how it's done and get it out of the way."
Zac and Isaac both scoffed laughs. "Whoa!" Isaac chided him. "That's big talk, coming from a wuss!"
But, sure enough, Taylor delivered, the sheet barely rippling with the hole he shot in the dead center of it. Smirking, he looked over at his brothers. "Who's the wuss now?"
"Beginner's luck," Zac said. "I bet you couldn't do it again."
"I'm not a beginner."
"You've never shot anything smaller than that shotgun over there."
Looking around, Taylor smirked and raised an eyebrow, lowering his voice, "That's what the ladies tell me."
Zac took off his cap and threw it at his brother. While he was at it, he took the tie out of his ponytail and had intended on retying it, when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye to his left and turned to find Bessie standing there, causing him to completely forget about his hair and letting it fall onto his shoulders. A smile spread across his face in an instant. "Hey, sweetheart. What are you doing here so early?"
Her eyes darted behind him as his brothers and the gypsy men stood around and discussed the differences between handguns and shotguns. "Um, well I came to invite you to Sunday dinner--again--but it seems that I'm intruding..."
"Nah, you're not intruding. We're not doing anything, just standing around, shooting some targets and just doing what men do. No big deal."
"Oh," she replied, her eyes still wary of what she'd walked up on. Despite her facial expression, she was a vision in her baby blue day dress with the tiny flowers all over it and her white cloche Sunday hat. Admittedly, he could have done without the hat, but she looked cute, anyway.
"You know how I feel about Sunday dinner," he said. "Just--just give me another week, I should be good as new by next Sunday--"
"You look fine now," she said. "There's nothing wrong with you."
"I just--I don't want these reminders all over my face when I meet your family for the first time. I want a clean slate."
Bessie nodded, but he could tell she was disappointed. "Well. Okay," she said, quietly. "I can respect that."
"Zac," Isaac said all of a sudden, barely noticing Bessie was there. "Come check this out, look what we figured out on this thing."
Not wanting to ignore Bessie, Zac momentarily had a hard time deciding what to do. Finally, he said to Bessie, "Give me just two seconds, okay?"
She simply nodded, without a word.
Zac was too distracted by Bessie's presence to listen to anything Taylor and Isaac were trying to tell him. All he knew was that Isaac was turning the gun over in Zac's hand and spinning something and pulling something else and Zac wasn't paying a bit of attention. Next thing he knew, with the coaching of his brothers, he was aiming the gun at the sheet, once again, and firing another shot.
A yelp from his left side caused him to look next to him and his face fell at the sight. She stood there, her hands over her hat and ears, her eyes wide, reading a deadly combination of fear, confusion, and bewilderment. He knew right then in that moment that something wasn't quite right.
"I can't do this," he suddenly muttered to Isaac, shoving the gun back in his hand.
"What?" Isaac replied, confused. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I just--I just can't. I appreciate the offer, I do, but I just can't do it."
"Zac, you're being crazy--"
Maybe he was crazy. He didn't know and he didn't care. All he knew was that crazy was not firing off a pistol--crazy was watching the love of his life disappear out of fear.
She was far ahead of him, walking briskly, almost to a run. Zac had to trot to catch up with her, through the grass, past the trees on the edge of the woods. The sun shone down upon them with fierce power, but no amount of sun could break up the storm cloud in the shape of his heart that felt ready to explode.
"Bessie," he said catching up to her and taking her hand to stop her. "Where are you going? What's wrong?"
To his surprise, she jerked her hand from his and stepped away from him, clutching her hands behind her back.
"Bessie," he whispered in confusion, his feelings hurt by the gesture. "You're acting like...are you--are you afraid of me?"
And then the words he dreaded hearing: "This is too fast. This is--things are just going much too fast. I can't--I can't handle it--"
He was certain that his heart would pound right out of his chest. "What are you talking about?"
"This. Everything. All of this. I never even liked a boy before you, Zac. Things were so easy before when all we did was sit under trees and read poetry and pick flowers. And--and now all of a sudden, I'm having sex and jumping in the middle of fights and watching you shoot guns and--"
Suddenly, in a matter of seconds, Zac's temper was hot. "I never asked you to step into anything! If it was that much trouble, you could have left well enough alone!"
"I couldn't let them hurt you--!"
"And if I knew you were going to regret making love, I would never have touched you! You said it was okay! Remember? And now you wanna go back on it?"
Bessie began to shake her head. "I didn't say that--"
"Then what did you say, Bessie? What does this even mean?"
"I mean it's too fast! I can't even keep up anymore!"
"What's to keep up with? This is life, Bessie! Life changes on a dime every single day! You never know what you're going to wake up to! I didn't wake up in the morning knowing I was going to find you, I didn't wake up in the morning knowing I was getting my ass kicked, and I certainly didn't wake up this morning knowing that my brother was going to gift me with a form of protection! But you know what? I appreciate him for it. He's looking out for me like a brother should! And I'm going to accept his gift and I'm going to learn to use it and I'm going to carry it because, goddamn it, Bessie, nobody nowhere is ever going to put their hands on you or me ever again. You got that?"
"No," she said, shaking her head. "Not like that. Not like--that's not you, Zac. It's--carrying a gun is not you--"
"THIS IS WHO I AM, BESSIE! THIS IS IT! THIS IS ME! YOU KNEW WHAT YOU SIGNED UP FOR WHEN YOU AGREED TO BE MY GIRL! IF YOU WANT TO GO BACK ON IT, BE MY GUEST! I WASN'T AWARE THAT THIS RELATIONSHIP CAME WITH STIPULATIONS!"
Bessie's chest heaved as she backed up another step and attempted to keep herself together. "I just asked you to slow down a little--"
"Slow down? That's funny, because I didn't hear you ask me anything."
"I've already said it several times, Zac. You're not listening to me!"
"No. I heard you," he replied, his voice calm and his breathing heavy with adrenaline and defeat. "I heard you loud and clear. You know what, maybe you're right. This is too fast for you. You're just--you are a little too young for this, I think."
He could tell that his comment cut her deep when her jaw dropped in absolute devastation. He would have felt rotten for it had his current state of rage not been at the forefront of his emotions at the moment.
"Just--just go home, Bessie," he finally said, exasperated. "Just go home."
As he turned and walked away from her, her small voice finally creaked out, "Zac."
"What?" He spat, turning around and running a hand through his hair.
She wrung her hands in front of her and she glanced down at them before she looked back up at him. "I love you. I don't think I'm too young for that."
Zac's heart melted in an instant. It took him merely a split second to make the decision to close the gap between them and scoop her off the ground by her waist, closing his mouth over hers in desperate emotion. As she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck in response, he whispered between kisses, "I'm so sorry I scared you."
"I'm not scared of you," she whispered back. "I promise."
"I don't ever want to see you look at me that way again."
"I didn't look at you any kind of way," she said, shaking her head.
He smiled as he lowered her back onto her feet. "You did," he nodded. "You looked absolutely terrified."
"Well--the gun was loud..."
"No," he said softly. "Baby, you weren't looking at the gun. You were looking at me."
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just--I guess seeing you with a gun in your hand was a little...disconcerting..."
"I want you to feel safe with me, Bessie. You know I'll never hurt you."
"I know."
"I'm sorry I yelled and...and said what I said. I didn't really want you to go home. I need you too much, I've--I've never needed anyone the way I need you."
"Zac..."
"I mean it, Bess. I'm gonna be better. I promise."
Bessie shook her head and swept a strand of hair out of his face. "I don't want you to be better. I want you just like this--as yourself. I don't want you to--to try to change something about yourself every time I have a reaction to something. If you did that, I wouldn't know who you are anymore."
"That's what I felt like when you looked at me the way you did. You looked at me like I was a stranger. A threatening one. I didn't like that. I won't carry the gun. Okay? I'll just--it'll sit in the trailer, packed away, and I won't carry it with me."
"If you think it'll make you feel safer, then carry it. I don't want you to feel...vulnerable, just because I'm a wimp. It's none of my business anyway."
"Except that it is your business. Everything that I say and do is your business. All of it. I have nothing to hide from you." Then he looked her over and thought about the past week and the way she took care of him and he came to a realization, a smile creeping across his face. "Say, you wanna go sit under our tree?"
"Well--well, I didn't come here to intrude on your time with your brothers--"
"It's okay, I was missing you anyway. I've just...spent this entire week leaning and depending on you that we haven't really...you know, done anything just for you lately."
Bessie blinked at him for a moment, obvious that she hadn't put any thought into it. "Um. Well. Taking care of you is for me."
"No," he smiled, shaking his head. "It's not. That was me getting spoiled and reaping all the benefits. Enjoyable, yes. But fair? No."
"I didn't think about it that way..."
"I know. That's why I love you."
"Okay," she said. "I'd, uh, I'd like that. But first, do you think...well, do you think you might let me try to shoot the gun a couple of times?"
The shock hit Zac like a ton of bricks. He knew women were crazy, but his head had never spun quite like this before. Did she like the damned gun or not? "Uh...you want to shoot it? I thought you were afraid of it?"
"Well...I don't know, maybe I figure that if I shot it a little bit I might not be so afraid."
Zac couldn't argue with that logic. Nor could he contain his excitement that Bessie was actually willing to keep an open mind about the gun. With a smile, he took her by the hand and the pair turned around and headed back to the clearing.
The smile still on his face, Zac approached Isaac and took the gun out of his hand. "Clear the way, boys," he boasted proudly. "My lady wants to try her hand at my gun."
Taylor snickered and Zac glared at him.
"Are you sure?" Isaac asked. "Ladies shouldn't handle guns, it ain't proper--"
"Oh, it's plenty proper," Taylor interjected.
"Shut up, Tay!" Zac and Isaac said in unison.
"You guys are no fun," he muttered with a scowl.
Ignoring him, Zac turned and handed the gun to Bessie, fitting it into her hand and positioning her fingers around the handle. Her hand trembled just slightly. "Bessie. It's okay. If you don't want to do it--"
"Show me what to do," she said quietly.
"Well," he replied gently, pointing at the target sheet. "You see those sheets on those trees over there? You just aim at one and...pull the trigger. It'll be loud, though."
Bessie nodded. "Well, that sounds easy enough."
Zac smiled. "Long as you aim it right."
He stood behind her as she took a stance in the same place he and his brothers had been standing. He heard her lightly clear her throat as she raised the gun in front of her, her entire body trembling now, including her hand. "Bessie," he whispered, placing a hand on her waist. "You have to relax. It's always easier when you relax." Then he smirked. "Remember?"
This made her blush and giggle a little and Zac grinned at how cute she was. "Okay," she whispered, standing a little straighter, aiming the gun once again. "Are you ready?"
"Baby, I've been ready. I'm waiting on you."
And then she squeezed her eyes shut and she pulled the trigger.
The sheet didn't ripple. None of them did. As a matter of fact, Zac was fairly certain that she hadn't hit any of the sheets at all. Where that bullet ended up would remain a mystery.
Bessie's reaction, however, was that of startled surprise. She began to tremble again, the gun unsteady in her hand as she jerked her hand back and spun around, shaking her head. "Zac, I can't. I just can't--"
A chorus of "Whoa!" and "Hey!" rang out as his brothers and the other gypsies moved and ducked at the gun that waved unsteadily in the air.
"Bessie!" Zac hissed, closing his hand around the small gun and removing it from her hand. "You can't be that careless with a gun in your hand!"
"Then you keep it. Just--just you shoot it, I don't want to. Isaac's right, ladies shouldn't shoot guns."
Zac chuckled as he turned the gun over in his hand. "Okay. Okay, then. You just watch me, then. Are you okay with that?"
Bessie nodded. "As long as it's not me."
Switching places with her, Zac picked his target and shot at it, his aim better than the last time he fired the gun, giving Bessie the play-by-play on what he was doing and how he was doing it. Before long, as he shot at the target, it was as if he and Bessie were the only two in the clearing. He didn't see anyone, he didn't hear anyone--he only felt his love's arms around his waist and her breath on his ear as she cheered excitedly for him with each shot. He was going to keep his promise to Bessie and not carry the gun. This was all he needed. He'd never felt the support of a good woman like this before and it was a feeling he'd decided that he was completely addicted to. Once again, Zac was absolutely, helplessly at Bessie's mercy.