Free Ashes - Book 1 by Leslie Johnson

She says the word in a long whine. Then she crosses her legs and I can tell she’s squeezing her butt cheeks tightly together, as if willing the poop to stay put.
    I run to my bedroom and grab a box of baby wipes I keep there for quick post sex clean-ups. I thrust them at her. “Use these. Good luck.”
    She looks at me like a person facing the gallows and turns on her heel, waddle walking to the bathroom.
    I sink to the floor, covering my mouth with both hands and am immediately attacked by the dog and cat.
    First there’s a groan, then a sob emanating through the bathroom door. I yell, “You can do it!”
    She calls me every name in her very long repertoire of bad words. She’s learned a lot of them since hooking up with Ken. I’m pretty impressed.
    The toilet flushes, the sink faucet comes on and I try, really try to get up and make a run for it. But Onyx is on my stomach and Ghost is playing with my hair and I’ve laughed so hard my bones feel like they won’t pick me up.
    So I’m lying on the floor when the bathroom door opens and a sweaty Stephanie emerges. She doesn’t look at me, just lifts her nose in the air and waddles to her bedroom, slamming the door.

Chapter 9 - Gage
    The range is almost deserted and I move to the far end. I notice Joe, the manager, is moving targets for a couple of guys with rifles. He waves at me and points to Ken. I motion him over.
    “Joe, this is my buddy, Ken. He’s learning to shoot.”
    The two shake hands and then he squints at me, the wrinkles on his leathery face coming alive. “What did you bring today? I hope you didn’t bring the cannon; I can hardly control that.”
    I shake my head. “I brought the 9 mm and the .22.” I open the case and hand Ken the yellow shooting glasses and some earplugs.
    Joe grabs the guns and puts them on the table, barrels pointed down range. “Ken, you ever shoot before?”
    Ken turns slightly red. “I, uh, well, to be honest. No.”
    Joe slaps his shoulder. “Everyone starts somewhere. Don’t feel bad.”
    Ken glances at me as Joe continues. “Make sure you explain the rules here and go over gun safety. I trust you, but I’ll be checking up on you both.”

    I’ve always loved the feel and precision of a firearm. I place both hands on the metal for proper control and raise the gun to shoulder level. “You’ve seen the movies,” I begin and glance over at Ken. “They hold the gun sideways with one hand, like this.” Ken nods, still looking wary, but a little more curious. “That’s the movies. This is real life. You want control, not show. A slow squeeze.”
    The first round was slightly off center, but still pretty damn close. “Not bad for the first round in a few weeks.” I squeeze off another and watch the center of the target widen.
    Three more rounds and the entire center is punched out.
    Ken stares at the target and then back at me. “How’d you learn to shoot like that? I honestly thought it was luck when those thugs were after us, and as the saying goes, better lucky than good.”
    I step back to reload. “I didn’t always want to be a firefighter,” I tell him. “In fact, that wasn’t even on my radar until a few years ago. I wanted to be an army ranger or in Delta Force or some other special ops.”
    He cocks his head to the side. “No shit? I never even had a clue you wanted to join the military. I guess I just thought you always wanted to be a firefighter. What made you change?”
    I put down the 9 mm on the table. “It’s kind of a long story and I want you to do some shooting.”
    “Just give me the short version. I’m curious.”
    “My parents got divorced when I was fourteen and I lived with my mother. I was always tall, but lanky. I wanted to be like my cousin, the football player, but I ended up with a swimmer’s body, so the opponents pushed me all over the place. I was lifting weights every day. I wanted to gain weight, so I was drinking protein drinks by the quart. I remember watching a