Authors: Zoe Burke
No Gun Intended (18 page)
Luis caught a plane back to Las Vegas that afternoon. We were sorry to see him leave, but we knew he had been away from his beloved pregnant Ruby a lot longer than he had expected. Mickey paid for his plane ticket (first class, of course, even though it was a short flight) and told him he had opened a savings account in “Baby Maldonado's” name in New York, in appreciation for his help.
Luis gave him a man hug. “
Mi hermano, gracias. Siempre
.”
Luis hugged me, too. “
Amiga,
you are all right?”
I kissed his cheek. “I am
mucho
all right, Luis.”
Mom planted a kiss on his cheek. “Come back and see us, with Ruby and the baby. Or we'll see you in New York, soon, I hope!”
“I will look forward to that, Sylvia. And, Annabelle,” he turned to me. “I still like your mother.” He winked.
Dad shook his hand and hugged him. “Good to have you part of the family.”
Luis choked up a little on that one.
As we walked Luis out to the curb where the cab was waiting, Sal and Drew were sweeping their porch and hanging pumpkin lights, I figured in anticipation of Thanksgiving, still three weeks away. They waved energetically. “Luis! Come back!”
Luis waved and got in the cab.
As it drove away, Sal yelled to us, “Drinks later?”
Mom answered. “Six. Our house. Bring cheeses!”
And back inside we went.
***
Mickey and I were lying on top of the bed fully clothed, thinking we were going to nap, but unable to. A jumble of thoughts raced around my head. I had two issues to discuss with him, and I wasn't sure where to start.
But I did.
“Guns.”
“Huh?”
“Guns, Mickey. You know they make me uncomfortable. I read about people shooting other people by accident all the time. I guess I'm afraid I could do the same thing if I had a gun.”
“We don't have to talk about this now. But you already have one. If you don't want to carry it, you don't have to.”
I propped myself up on an elbow and looked at him. “Chopstick, pool cue, book, purse, strong like ox, and fleet of foot. Those are my current weapons of choice.”
“You forgot dental floss, your preferred binding material.” His eyes twinkled.
“Don't make fun of me, Mickey, I mean it.”
“I'm not. I'm in awe of your resourcefulness.” He propped himself up on an elbow, too, so that we were facing each other. “You're the strongest woman I've ever met, and I don't mean muscles, though you've got them. I mean will. I mean temperament. I mean guts.”
“Even though my knees buckle and I pee in my pants?”
He fell onto his back and snorted. “I've seen seasoned cops lose it in far worse ways than that.”
“That's a relief. So, anyway, back to the gun. My gun.”
“It's not an issue, like I said. It can stay in the closet.”
“Nope.”
He peered at me with his best Mickey Paxton squint. “Nope?”
“I'm going to learn how to use it. I don't want to be afraid of it, and if I'm going to do anything other than dumpster dive, there may very well be situations confronted by Asta Investigations where I'll need it. You and Luis might not be there every time I'm in danger. I'm good at putting up a fight, and I'm good at thinking on my feet, but I'm not going run away from that gun. Not if I want to get my detective's license someday. Not if we're really going to be equal partners.”
Mickey beamed. “You amaze me. Come here.” He reached for me.
“Not yet.” I sat up. “Back to dumpster diving, I haven't done that yet. Will it be my job and not yours or Luis'?”
He looked amused. “We'll dive together, how about that? Your talents still have much to reveal, methinks, but perhaps you were a little hasty when you put that âDDS' on your business card.”
“Oh, I'm probably good at it, don't worry.”
He chuckled and reached for me again, but I shook my head. “So, what about the other thing?”
“What other thing?”
“That other thing we said we were going to do.” I bit my lip.
His mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. “Oh, you mean get married?”
I nodded.
“What about it?”
“Was that a real proposal?”
“Was that a real âyes'?”
“I asked you first.”
He pulled me down on top of him and kissed me hard. “It was the realest thing I've ever asked, anyone.”
“Okay, then. Yes, for real.” I grinned.
We kissed again, then curled up on the bed. We were soon fast asleep.
***
Wine and cheese with Mom and Dad and Sal and Drew was jolly and lighthearted. We examined possible tablecloths for the bakery, and curtain fabric, and we tasted a new bread recipe from a warm loaf they had just pulled out of the oven and sliced before coming over. I was nestled close to Mickey on the couch, thinking about how we would get along in thirty years, hoping our marriage would bear some resemblance to my parents'.
I picked up the catalog of handguns that was still on the coffee table and waved it at Sal and Drew. “So, tell me, you guys, why do you have a gun?”
Sal took it from me. “Honestly, we got it when that wacko father was sending homophobic nasty letters, accusing Drew of corrupting his son and threatening to set him on fire.”
“Holy shit, you left that part out of the story before.”
“None of us needed to hear any more drama that night, Sylvia sweetheart. Anyway, we've never used it, but we know how. So, are you and Jeff going to get one?”
Before Mom could answer, Dad piped up. “No. It was a fleeting curiosity. Not for us.”
“If you change your mind, Dad, Mickey can advise you.”
Both of my parents jerked like they had spasms fire up their backs. “Muffinhead?”
“I'm going to learn how to shoot. I want to get my license to be a detective. If you decide to get a gun, you'll get no judgment from me.”
Sal rolled the catalog and stuck it in his jacket pocket. “Brava! Let's drink to that!”
I squeezed Mickey's hand and exhaled deeply.
Mom pointed her finger at Mickey. “That gun in the closet in New York, the Nanette, or whatever it's called, will Annabelle be okayâ¦?”
Mickey cut her off. “No worries, Sylvia. I won't let her anywhere near it by herself until she's a veritable Annie Oakley.”
She sat back. “I told you, honey, he's a goddamn keeper.”
“I learn so much from you, Mom.” We raised our glasses to each other.
“I'm astonished. Simply astonished.” Dad cracked the second bottle of wine and poured it. When Mickey stood, his glass in hand, I thought he was going to make
the
announcement, but instead he thanked them all for their hospitality and wished for calmer days ahead. We all sipped.
Then I sat up like a shot. “It's Tuesday!”
“Yes, darling,” Mom said, “it happens each week.”
“âRawhide' is on at The Rowdy Yeats! Let's go!”
After explaining this to Sal and Drew, we put on coats and got ready to pile into two cars. Mickey stopped us. “I'd like to ride with Jeff. Sylvia, okay if you and Annabelle ride with Sal and Drew?”
Mom looked puzzled, but said sure.
I traded a knowing glance with Mickey, my heart pounding like the Mumford & Sons' bass drum.
***
Perry, forgiving guy that he was, welcomed us as we sat at the bar. A young Clint Eastwood was on the screen behind the bar, with subtitles revealing the dialogue. We ordered drinks, and I got up to play some pool. I love “Rawhide,” but I felt the need to move around a bit and feel, well, rowdy, in a good way.
Mom got up to play with me. I racked up the balls and offered her the break. She positioned the cue ball and blasted it into the triangle of stripes and solids. One of each fell in.
“You're solids, that's what fell first. Thanks for the freebie!” I took a sip of my bourbon.
Then, honest to God, I sank all of the stripes. I had never played a better game of pool in my life, even better than when I finished off the table at the Uptown Billiards Club. I was making shots that made no sense. It was like I was channeling the goddess of pool, making every great shot that had ever been made on a pool table ever. I was batting a hundred.
My family and friends had stopped watching the screen and were watching me. It was exhilarating.
When I sent the eight ball careening into the far corner pocket, they gave me some whoops and a round of applause.
Mickey stood up and held up his glass. “That's my fiancée!”
Mom dropped her pool cue and it clattered on the floor. “No shit?! You two are getting married?”
Sal and Drew cheered while Dad took me in his arms. “Mickey asked for my blessing on the way over. He's a gem, Bea, and he knows you are, too.”
I couldn't help it. I let it all go, sobbing into my father's chest, so happy and exhausted and full of love that Dad practically had to hold me up. Mom came to me and pulled me to her, telling me that she loved me and that Mickey was the fucking greatest man I could ever marry.
Then I was in Mickey's arms, feeling like I was being passed around like a precious child, only when I looked into his eyes, those eyes that are deeper than an Ingmar Bergman movie, I didn't feel like a child. I felt like a wife, a partner, and an equal.
I couldn't have been happier than if I had just pitched a game-winning grand slam. No bullmarkey.
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