I held the gun in my hand, trying to acclimate myself to the feel of holding a weapon, it felt so natural in my hand. I did as I was told keeping my legs apart planted firmly on the floor as I aimed for my target. We bought a magazine of bullets that I loaded from the bottom of the gun. The first few rounds I fired I missed my target marginally. It was my nerves. I was trying too hard. I felt the eyes of the MC on me, I felt Anthony’s intense gaze all of them watching to see if I had my father’s blood running through my veins.
Suddenly my luck changed it was as if someone had performed an exorcism on me because I began to fire the gun as if I had come out of the womb with an automatic weapon in my hand. Each shot I took fell dead center on my target. I couldn’t stop either firing one shot after another taking out all the aggression of the last few weeks on my paper target. The push and pull of power with each shot gave me a burst of adrenaline. My finger kept pulling the trigger as my mind raced with all the people I had pictured on the receiving end of the bullets the faceless man who killed my father, the stranger driving the truck that slammed into my mother’s car killing her, the enemies who ripped my family apart. I heard the steady beep of the machines that sounded when my mother drew her last breath, ringing in my ears as I emptied the magazine of bullets. I heard my mother’s cries as she collapsed over my father’s coffin. Lastly, I saw a younger version of myself chasing after my dad. For the first time since I started shooting, I closed my eyes. I pulled the trigger once, twice... both blanks. I had run out of bullets. The shooting range became eerily quiet the only sound was that of my anguished scream echoing off the walls.
It was a slow day at the salon, thank Christ because I was exhausted. I couldn’t even blame my exhaustion on a late night because truth be told Mikey had me home hours earlier than if, I had spent the night with Rico. I really needed to stop comparing them because even as I sat here in my stylist chair waiting for my next client I was thinking about the ways Rico kept me up at night versus the way I wished Mikey had kept me up all night.
It was my fault the night had ended prematurely. We shared cheese fries and hot roast beef sandwiches when we could’ve been spending the night flirting shamelessly engaging in stolen touches of one another. My skin seared every time his fingers grazed my arm or my back. I felt as if I was going to combust just reminiscing about his slight touch. Something about the way, he looked at me so feral as if I was his next meal, had me wanting to rip my clothes off and beg him to do all his eyes promised he wanted to.
The bell chimed signaling that someone had entered the salon. I lifted my head expecting to see my client walking through the door, but was shocked to see Rico. He had his sunglasses on as he strode towards me looking every bit determined and confident. Rico was attractive with his olive complexion dark hair and impressive build. The man was all hard lines and muscles, yet when he lifted his glasses and his eyes fixated on mine, I didn’t feel one third of the butterflies I did when Mikey set his sights on me. His arms were on display reminding me how much they were one of my favorite parts of him. I used to love to trace my fingers along the tattoos that covered his muscular arms and when they would wrap around my waist I used to feel like the luckiest girl in the world. So how is that now when he wrapped his arms around my waist forcing me to stand as he locked me in his embrace I felt nothing?
He bent down to kiss my lips softly. “Hey gorgeous.”
I pulled back, forcing a smile, trying to mask my confusion as to why he was here. “This is a surprise.” I said as he loosened his grip on me settling his hands on my hips as he looked at me.
“I missed my girl.” His fingers slightly digging into my hips as he watched me closely. “I’m sorry I bailed on you last night.”
“It’s okay.” I cleared my throat. “I understand that you had to work last minute.” He looked at me wearily.
“I was expecting you to be at my place when I came home.” He said releasing one of my hips to cup my chin in his giant paw of a hand. “But my bed was empty.” His other hand traveled across my back down to my ass.
“I left thinking that you wouldn’t be coming home early anyway.” I said. It was partially the truth. After he canceled our plans, there was no way I was going to sit home and wait until god knows when for him to come home. Then I remembered the crackhead in the bathroom.
Rico leaned into me brushing my hair over my shoulder dropping his hand from my face I could feel his breath against my ear as his mouth lingered right over my earlobe.
“Is there something you want to tell me, Nikki?” He whispered barely audible. His voice was gravely as he pressed his hand against my lower back, forcing my body flush against his. I glanced over his shoulder at the clients and fellow stylists watching us to them we looked like two people in a passionate embrace however, Rico’s hold on me felt anything but passionate.