It didn't take long for Minnie-may to get dressed and then spend an hour just catching up with her friend. Ken eventually excused himself to go lie down, and left the two of them alone to talk.
"So, I'm guessing you still haven't gotten yourself hitched up with anyone," May asked out of the blue.
"No rings, and no need for birth control if that is what you're asking. There hasn't been a man or woman that was enough to make me give up the bachelorette ways yet. Not that I haven't been thinking about it lately," Rally reluctantly admitted.
"About time, I was beginning to think you were just in love with your guns. I was half afraid that you might begin to do unimaginable things that would scar them for life. So, what made you start wanting that," May's mockingly smile was still warm despite the jab.
"Dad started working at the shop again not too long ago. Only a couple of days a week, so I am still shouldering the burden of things for the most part. I just, started daydreaming about what it might be like having a kid. I'm not old by any means, but, I'm not getting younger. I also don't want to be one of those mothers that are fifty with a teenager. I, just don't know how I would find someone. I mean, most guys would probably be afraid of me. Plus where do you go to meet them," she replied casually as she could muster.
"I met Kenny on the street. Also, I was a whore, I didn't have to go looking, they came to me. I am probably the worst possible person to ask about that. Bars maybe? No, most of them are just going to be drunk or horny, probably both. Maybe you could try going to some shooting events, there would be guys who had the same interests. No, you might still freak them out gushing over what guns they had. Yeah, you are on your own with this one. By the way, what brought you over to this side of town," the smaller woman asked.
"That's right. I almost forgot. I was having trouble with the Mustang, and turns out that the entire time I had it, it only had a two barrel carb on it. I never paid that much attention, since it wasn't going to ever measure up to the GT500. A friend of Bean's came into town to take over for him, and he managed to get it fixed up. It is like a whole different car now," Rally had been so caught up in catching up she had let her whole reason for dropping by slip her mind.
"Bean sent someone up here? Is he here, how is he doing," May asked.
"From the message he sent, he is leaving the country. I don't know where he is going, but it sounds like somewhere that there isn't a Detective Bacharach. I wish I had some way to let him know that he wasn't even a cop anymore, but Diesel said he didn't have any way to contact him either. Oh, yeah, that is the guy's name. Diesel. Apparently he used to be an MP in the Marine Corp, and now he is a criminal in Chicago. Funny how the world works isn't it," she told her.
Her mind couldn't help but wander back to the man for a second. He was definitely something different to most men she knew. He hadn't tried hitting on her at least. Which, if she thought about, she didn't have a lack of men who tried, and then backed off when they noticed her shoulder holster printing. Diesel hadn't even flinched when he saw her go for her gun earlier.
"Earth to Rally! Are you still with us?"
Rally shook her head, "Sorry, got lost in a thought for a second. Anyways, want to take a ride?"
May shook her head, "I, am, not wanting to leave Kenny alone right now. At least not until they can get him on some medicine that will help him. This is the second medicine that did this, and they don't have that many that can help someone with his severity. He can't even pick Asume up, it is getting so bad. I'm worried we may have to sell the shop and apartment, and find somewhere that only has one floor. There is a chance, that if they can't help him, he is going to end up wheelchair bound."
"Oh my God. I didn't know he was getting that bad. Is there anything I can do to help," even if they didn't see each other that often anymore, May was still one of her closest friends.
"We knew this might be coming. Rally, we will make it. There isn't much that you would be able to do anyways. Ken loves the shop, but I am worried that one day he is going to fall going down the stairs, and I won't be able to do anything to stop it. We can't afford to have an elevator put in either. The cheapest we have been quoted, is over thirty thousand dollars, and we would have to have a commercial one put in since this is technically a commercial building. We just don't have that kind of money laying around, most of it is tied up in stock, and paying the ridiculous taxes the city puts on businesses," May's cheery demeanor slipped away as she told Rally about it.
Rally let out a sigh, "I don't have that kind of money laying around either. There aren't any grants or low interest loans available for that kind of thing?"
"Again, commercial building. If it was strictly residential, there are a few, and the cost of the elevator and installation would be lower. The fact that the apartment is residence for commercial purposes, i.e. it's meant to be rented out, we don't qualify. I even talked to a disability lawyer about it, but he said the same thing. Right now things aren't too bad. The local stores are willing to deliver groceries, and one of Daniel's friends lives closer by and his mother comes and picks Daniel up for preschool. We take a taxi to Ken's appointments. We are getting by," May's voice got quieter, "As long as I have them I will get by."
Rally had a lot to think about as she drove home. In the past, she had gone to visit them, only to arrive at a roiling fight. More than once she had arrived to the cops being there to tell them to knock it off or go to jail. Yet, they never stopped loving each other. It was, inspiring in a way. Though if she had that kind of relationship, she might continuously pay fines for discharging a firearm inside the city limits.
She couldn't help but wonder how things would have gone if her mother had gotten her way. Endless music lessons. Hours spent learning how to tune a violin. God awful outfits that would be as dangerous to her trying to walk, as walking into a firefight. But, there may have been someone that she could have met and fallen in love with. Someone that she could have married and started a family with before now.
As fast as those thoughts came, they disappeared. She had loved her mother, but she couldn't stand the way she had wanted her to live. She couldn't stand the way she treated her father because he didn't listen to how she wanted him to raise Rally. They each tried in their own ways, and he loved her mother enough to chase the men who killed her.
As she shifted she let an eye drift out to some of the advertisements. Strangely enough, most of them seemed more suitable for Valentine's, rather than mid summer. Happy couples going on vacations, men on a knee with a diamond ring, and then there were the ones with families. She set her full attention back on the road ahead of her. If she kept looking to the sides of the road she was just going to end up depressed.
Eventually she pulled into her garage. She waited until the door closed to get out of the car. She didn't know why, but she felt warmer than usual. She didn't think it was the humidity, she had lived there her entire life. She thought it might have been the linen jacket she wore during the summer. It wasn't really to keep her warm, but to keep her shoulder holster hidden.
She took the jacket off as she entered her kitchen. She threw it off to the side, deciding to just deal with it later. Passing a hook she took her gun off and hung it up, before pushing the hook to one side and shutting a cover and locking it. Still feeling warm her skirt and blouse were just discarded where she had been when she took them off. By the time she reached her bed she had even stripped out of her underwear.
As she crawled into bed naked she tried to calm her mind. She wasn't able to though, and as she slipped into sleep she heard the echo of a smooth southern accent.
Diesel sat at his table drinking a beer and reading the newspaper. It was just a daily newspaper, so there wasn't that much in it, but apparently they had finally released a story about the police chase he had started early that week. A part of him felt disappointed in himself, given that he had in a sense been law enforcement. The rest was rather proud. They could only say that it was a large black car, that had Nevada plates on it. At that moment the car actually had Minnesota plates on it, which was its own set of self disappointment.
Looking through he also saw a mention that they were continuing to look for a person of interest in regards to a shooting that same day that left a local street thug emasculated. That, he felt entirely proud about. That guy was a self important prick, and did not deserve the right to procreate.
He turned his head to look out the window. Things were so different here for him. He was used to being able to see stars. Looking out at the sky, he just say a white haze from all of the artificial light in area. Even during the time he had spent in Tucson and Phoenix, he had been able to see stars in the city. It had been one of the few things he could do in Somalia to calm himself. Here, they were just gone.
He took in a deep breath. The air even in there smelled off. Supposedly smog was so dense that even on really hot days it didn't rise away from the streets, so that may have been what he was smelling. He didn't really know. He was really starting to miss the smell of pine trees and fresh cut hay. But what ever this was, was better than the death and burnt powder residues he remembered from the Marines.
He stood up and took a drink from the bottle. He didn't drink anything much stronger. He didn't want to end up like his old man, or some of the men he had served with. At one point he had been one of those bad mother fuckers that was fueled with caffeine, nicotine, and alcohol. He quit smoking on his second tour, and cut hard liquor after his discharge. He did not regret it. Much cheaper way to live anyway.
He could see a small sliver of the road down the alleyway the garage was situated on. Cars passed by, people heading to where they wanted or needed to go. Yellow taxi cabs like he had seen on television as a kid were mixed in with mostly older cars in the area he now called home. He even saw large coach style buses rather than the smaller truck based ones they ran in Texarkana. It was a bit of a culture shock, more than what he had seen overseas.
He walked out onto the landing that lead down into the garage. He looked down at his car, thinking of all the times he had in it. There was a lot of fun in those memories. He couldn't say that he hadn't wished that there could have been someone beside him during those. When he thought about it, the last few years had been rather lonely.
He let his eyes wander over to his workbench. He hadn't taken the time to clean up after he had done the carb swap on the woman's Mustang. The old Autolite two barrel was just sitting there, waiting for whatever he was going to do with it. He couldn't help but let his mind wander over to her. The nickname was a little weird, but then again his was something you got at a gas station. Other than questionable meat products that looked like they were there for the last ten years.
He hadn't paid attention to her finger, but he doubted that there was anyway that she wasn't taken. Bean hadn't said anything about her having a boyfriend or anything, but he also had said it had been a while since he had seen her. Hell, why would a girl like that go for some overhyped delivery man who had a good chance of ending up dead or in prison at any time. Looks like that could get so much better than him anyways.
He took another drink from the bottle. He thought back to Mogadishu. He tried not to, too many bad memories, and not enough good to keep him from bouts of depression from it. Situational depression, that was what the counselor said that it was called. She said that it was probably one of the more common types, and the triggers were usually very individual. There were recommendations of seeing a psychologist through the VA, but he didn't give enough of a damn to do so.
The FOB he had been stationed at played host to a detachment of Delta Force. He had gotten to be pretty close with one of the younger ones close to his age. They never gave their names for some reason, something about opsec due to their reason for being there. He was part of the team that went down during the Battle of Mogadishu, and died of his injuries after. He was ashamed that he never did learn his name, but that was how things sometimes went in the military
He walked back in to the table and sat down. Sitting in the middle of it was a pistol case, with a couple of others off to the side. Though it was highly stereotypical, he was Texan, and of course he owned a few guns. This particular one, was a little different. It was the former sidearm of that unknown Delta he had befriended. He had given it to him on his deathbed, why, he had no clue.
He picked up the case and unzipped it. Delta Force was well known for the fact that they were the best, and they had access to whatever they wanted. They weren't restricted to carrying M16A2s and M9s. He pulled the pistol from the case, and pulled back the slide of the CZ75 in his hand. Looking down the barrel he checked the rifling and then let the slide close. The triangular Greek Delta symbol was inlaid in brass in the grips, a tribute to the man.
"I wish I could have known you better, but that is how the world works, and I hope that whether you hit Hell, or are getting to party with a bunch of big titted bimbos in Heaven, you have some kind of rest."