MMM here is chapter nine. Feel free to critique it if you like. Here are some ideas to help get you in the mood: "OH MY GOD, THIS IS TERRIBLE!", "I THINK I'M GOING TO BE SICK!", AND "SO IT WAS YOU WHO KILLED GRAMMER!" Help any? No? Oh well. Here are the links to the other chapters:
Chapter One:
http://www.writingforums.com/viewtop...830&highlight=
Chapter Two:
http://www.writingforums.com/viewtop...969&highlight=
Chapter Three:
http://www.writingforums.com/viewtop...018&highlight=
Chapter Four:
http://www.writingforums.com/viewtop...044&highlight=
Chapter Five:
http://www.writingforums.com/viewtop...095&highlight=
Chapter Six:
http://www.writingforums.com/viewtop...141&highlight=
Chapter Seven:
http://www.writingforums.com/viewtop...223&highlight=
Chapter Eight:
http://www.writingforums.com/viewtop...727&highlight=
Oki doki, read along and have fun. Enjoy. Now I am off to pay my debt to everyone by critiquing some other people's work. Adios.
Chapter Nine:
It was dark outside at the fall air was getting chilly. I held myself closely in my windbreaker standing outside of the diner. It was seven thirty, and Monroe was late. Liv had left at my insistence to go to Richard's place, and Roger had gone back to his apartment for the night. Annoyed and cold, I sat down on the curb and remembered to curse Monroe's name. As if on cue, he pulled around the corner and stopped right in front of me. I made a grunt, got up, and hopped into the car's passenger side. His car was a black Jeep Liberty and still had that nice, new car smell.
"Sorry I'm late."
"Save it." I said, looking out the window.
He nodded and started driving again. He was wearing a long, black coat, black pants, and a dark purple shirt.
"You're not wearing all black."
He smirked. "You like it?"
I rolled my eyes and nodded. "It's nice."
Then tension in the car was thick and tangible. Not to mention really annoying. I of course, handled the tension by doing the only sensible thing: I said nothing and glanced out the window the whole time. We had been driving for a good twenty minutes when we parked in front of a small shop, appropriately named "Firearms and Ammunition". A Jiffy Lube, a Hair Cutlery, and a 7-11 surrounded the place. All of the stores had the same cookie-cutter design. Monroe got out of the vehicle and I followed suit. We both approached the shop and I opened the door before he could do it for me. Chivalry was dead; all he needed to do was accept it. The place was badly lit with bright, florescent lights; the walls were a varnished wood color, and the ground a white tile. The place smelled like smoke and gunpowder. Not a safe combination.
An elderly man stood behind a glass counter in the back of the store reading a car magazine. He wore a cowboy hat, a white T-shirt, and blue jeans. In the glass counter, there were a wide variety of handguns. Behind him, rifles and shotguns were hung up decoratively on the wall. Hearing the ring of the door opening, the man glanced over to us and smiled.
"Howdy Monroe." the man said, a southern accent present.
I looked behind me to see Monroe smile slightly. "Hi Quinn."
We walked over to the glass counter and Monroe and Quinn both nodded at each other. This guy seemed to be just as stoic and somber as Monroe was. Creepy.
"Who's this? You're date?"
"No." Monroe and I both said in unison, much to my dismay.
"I brought her here to buy a gun." Monroe said.
Quinn wryly smiled at me. "Well, then. A woman with a gun.
Now that's a lady I respect."
I bit my tongue and tried to squeeze out a smile. Monroe gave
me an awkward glance and frowned. He knew me too well.
"I think she'd do well with a nine millimeter." Monroe said.
Quinn shook his head. "No, no, no. A dignified lady like this
one here should carry a Walther's .22."
While Monroe and Quinn debated over what kind of gun I
should own, I started looking at the ones contained under the glass. One
in particular caught my eye. It was larger than a nine millimeter and had a silver color to it.
"What about this one?" I said, pointing to the gun.
Monroe looked at the gun I was pointing at. "That is a .32
Magnum."
"I like this one." I said, staring at it.
Quinn crumpled his brow. "Why?"
I shrugged. "It's shinier than the others."
Monroe let out a quick laugh. "We'll take it," he said, smiling
down at me.
"How much is it?" I asked, ever frugal.
"Don't worry about that." Monroe said, shaking his head.
Quinn smirked. "Think of it as a gift. Monroe spends enough of
his money here to send my daughter to a very nice college."
I believed that one. "Don't I need a permit or something?"
"I'll get you a carry permit." Monroe said.
"What's that?"
"Something that'll let you carry the .32 around, legally. You
just can't conceal it, legally."
I smiled. "Thanks."
He smiled back at me. "My pleasure."
***
We bought some rounds of frangible ammo for the .32, which means the bullets disintegrate on impact if they hit a hard object, like a wall or a bone. Monroe explained it to me. I thanked Quinn for my new toy and we left. Monroe had then gotten me my carry permit, and we were all set to go to the shooting range. I was sitting in Monroe's car staring at the heavy, metal case on my lap. I opened it, and got the gun out. It felt foreign and cold in my right palm. Monroe glanced over at me. He grabbed the gun out of my hand and put it back in the case very carefully.
"I'll show you how to hold it when we get to the firing range."
"Okay." I said, not wanting to start anything.
I was feeling a bit on edge from being around him for this long, and was
trying to make an effort so we didn't end up at each other's throats. The
way things were going, I was betting one of us would be dead by the end of the night. Hopefully Monroe, but I doubted it.
I was standing in a gray, empty room facing a paper sheet about fifteen feet away. The sheet had an outline of a man on it with rings inside of it, like a target. Monroe waked in the room holding yellow glasses and some odd looking earmuffs. Approaching me, he put the earmuffs over my head and handed me the glasses. I put them on and everything turned an off shade of yellow.
Monroe tapped the earmuffs. "Those are to protect your ears from the sound of the gun going off. And the glasses--"
"Give me an unique sense of style?" I said, batting my eyes.
Monroe's lips curled slightly. "Sure."
I held my .32 in my hands and waited for Monroe to give me directions.
He walked behind and placed his arms over mine, guiding my hands to
the proper position on the gun. His fingers guided my right hand over the
trigger, and my left hand was under the handle, supporting my right. His hands were cold to the touch and I wavered ever so slightly feeling his body push on my back. Some directions.
"Okay, thanks. Can you get off of me now?" I said, aggravated.
Monroe sighed and backed up, heading to the open spot next
to me. "Sorry."
"Yeah well, next time just tell me how to hold the gun instead
of trying to grope me."
Monroe flushed with embarrassment, then recovered. "Don't
flatter yourself."
I let out a bitter laugh and fired at the target. The sound was
muffled and the recoil thrust my arms back a little. A tiny hole was in the sheet around where the outline man's shoulder was. Not a killing shot, but it was okay.
"Good shot," Monroe's muffled voice said, firing his own gun.
Monroe's outline man was torn apart at the head. He smirked.
"You're such a show off," I said, firing again. The shot hit the
sheet man right in the chest. I was getting the hang of this.
"I'm using Black Talons. That's why the target is getting so torn up." He said, firing another devastating shot into the target's chest.
"Let me guess, that ammo's illegal."
He let out a devious grin. "You know me too well."
"No kidding," I said firing another shot. Got him right in the
groin that time. I smiled.
"What do you mean by that?"
"By what?" I asked, hearing Monroe fire another shot.
"You know what I meant,"
I did know what he meant, but I really didn't want to get into
that right then. "Nothing, forget it."
He paused for a beat. "You wish you never met me, don't you?"
I sighed. He wasn't going to let this go. "Sometimes, yes."
"What about the other times?" He asked, holding his gun at his side.
"The other times," I started to say. "I don't know."
He nodded somberly. "Well, I'm glad I met you."
I laughed. "Why are you glad you met me?"
He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something,
then caught himself. He held up his gun once again and fired at the target.
"Are you not going to answer my question?"
He nodded and fired again.
"Alright then, fine." I fired my gun and hit the target right in the kisser.
***
I stared out the car's window driving back to Liv's place. Monroe and I had spent about an hour at the range and my arms were sore. Our communication level was that of nods and grunts, not wanting to start another thrilling argument. Better safe than sorry. I saw Liv's apartment complex coming around the corner and sat up. He pulled up next to the sidewalk and parked. Rifling up whatever courage I had left, I decided to leave on good terms with him.
"You know Monroe," I said, getting out of the car.
He looked over at me, expressionless. I let myself smile a little
staring into his face.
"The other times," I said, trying not to stutter. "I'm grateful
that I met you."
Monroe let out on of those beautiful smiles again. I was glad
he didn't start crying or something. That would be awkward. For a gun-
toting vigilante, he can be so damn sensitive sometimes.
"After all, you did kind of save my life."
He grabbed the door's handle and shook his head. "You saved
mine." With that, he closed the door, did an illegal U-ie, and drove off into
the night.
