Ginny's Story Chapter 10

Ellen and Jinny.jpg
Ginny's Story

A novel by Karen Lockhart

Copyright© 2016 Karen Lockhart
All Rights Reserved.


It's funny how things happen


On Monday we drove to the office in Lynn. It was still too early for foundations. None-the-less, we went inside and started to set up files for the different sub-contractors, and then other files for the different materials to be used; you know, steel re-inforcing bars, concrete blocks, and bricks. Then we filed away the contracts guaranteeing fixed prices for materials from our suppliers.

The day passed by quickly, and before we were home, Pete Smith drove up to the office trailer, and yelled, “Knock, knock, anyone home?”

Ellen opened the door, grabbed his jacket, and planted a kiss on his smiling lips. I think I created a monster!

I realized why he was there, he had my license! Then I kissed him too!

Pete laughed, “I'm coming here every day, if I get a greeting like that!”

“Is that my license?” I asked, “That fast?”

“It's amazing how fast your government can work if motivated properly,” Pete said. “When a State Police Captain, who heads the homicide division wants something, he usually gets it.”

“This is great! Ginny and I can go shopping tomorrow.”

“I guess the store in Woburn is where you are going? If so, mention my name to the owner, and he'll give you my discount.”

Then we heard the radio in his cruiser crackling, then his call letters came through clearly. “Base to D12, Base to D12”.

“That's me, I've got to go!” he gave Ellen a quick kiss and left, spraying gravel everywhere.

Over supper Ellen suggested we go looking for a defensive gun for me in the morning. She had a good idea on what we were going to look for, and how much it would cost. I guess it had to be small, but still powerful enough to save me if I got attacked.

I was starting to get excited about the idea of defending myself, even against a large man.

We decided to leave just after the rush hour traffic died down, no sense spending time in traffic when we could sleep a little later.

On Tuesday morning at about 9.30am, after a light breakfast, we headed for Route 128 and Woburn.

Ellen and I were both baseball fans, so the talk in the Explorer (Farm Tractor to my UK readers) was about the new pitching staff.

After forty-five minutes Ellen parked at the firearms store. I looked around, and wasn't impressed at what I saw.

“This is the largest dealer you could come up with?” I asked Ellen,”The place looks like a bad auto parts store.”

With that, Ellen laughed, “Did you expect it to look like Bloomingdale's? Come on, down this hall, and the second door on your left.”

I walked into something the size of our living room, with every inch of wall space covered with shotguns and rifles. Along two sides of the room were glass cases filled with every kind of pistol you could imagine, including six-shooters like you saw John Wayne use in a hundred Western movies.

What little floor space was filled with box after box of ammunition for pistols, rifles, and shotguns.

I was still standing with my mouth open, when I heard Ellen call me.

“Ginny, Ginny did you hear me? It's your turn, get out your License and we'll fill out the purchase forms.”

I walked over to a bank of computers where Ellen stood beside someone who looked like he was the boss.

After introductions, (he turned out to be the owner of the store by-the-way) he said, “I had a call from a friend saying you two girls would be here today. ('girls' again!) What exactly are you looking for?”

Ellen spoke right up. “The Smith & Wesson Bodyguard with the laser. One for Ginny and one for me.”

That got him laughing, “Pete said you were sure of what you would want, he was right!”

We followed him over to the longest glassed in case. Bob went behind the counter and removed two small nylon cases.

“The pistol is in that?” I asked, “It must be small.”

He unzipped the case and withdrew a small pistol with an orange button near the muzzle.

“That button turns the laser on and off. Here, hold it, isn't it light?”

We were sold. Bob called over another salesman to process Ellen's paperwork while he took care of me. He charged me the normal price, but included two boxes of what he said was the most effective and reliable ammunition.

Soon we hopped into Ellen's SUV and headed for the pistol range to try out our new purchases.

They were pretty easy to handle, even with the small size and the relatively big .380 caliber.

Happily, the laser made me a marksman at the distance of twenty-five feet right away.

Satisfied, Ellen packed up our gear and headed for the condo.

“Can you stop at the market, or do we do take out tonight? I checked the fridge before we left this morning, and I have nothing for supper tonight.”

Ellen smiled, and said “Pizza and beer, and we can think of how to carry our guns so we don't scare the neighborhood to death.”

Ellen stopped in front of our favorite pizza shop and went in to order a large Hawaiian pizza.
Imagine pineapple on pizza. I went next door and bought two six-packs of Foster's beer.

These were the genteel twelve ounce size, not the huge twenty-six ounce cans I drank in another life when I was Gene.

Ellen came back with a large bag and a pizza box.

“What's in the bag, grated cheese?” I asked, “I have a new jar of that at home.”

“Wise guy. I decided to get eggplant parmigiana with Ziti, and an order of chicken parmigiana with linguini. These come with fresh baked pizza-bread dinner rolls. I figure we're set for the next couple of night also. But, pizza and beer tonight!”

This made me happy; those dinners were large enough for two people, so the next three suppers, including that night's were set. I was glad I had laid in several Chianti and Shiraz red wines.

Ellen carried the Range bag, and the pasta dinners, while I had the pizza and two six-packs of beer.

The food was placed on the kitchen counter, while we washed up and put away the pistols. I found room in the refrigerator for the beer and pasta.

The Hawaiian pizza looked interesting, Ellen assured me I'd love it, and it was better for our figures than pepperoni or sausage toppings.

“That's good, the beer will help digest the vitamins and minerals in the pineapple!” I thought.

The upcoming Presidential primary was all over the six o'clock news, with every other commercial a campaign ad saying how bad everyone else was, except for the person featured in the ads.

I had a feeling my vote was going to cancel out Ellen's vote; well not yet, this was the primary. I knew my ballot would be a different color than hers though.

After listening to debates, I thought my candidate would probably prevent me from carrying my protection pistol while hers would encourage me to buy more. Oh well.

Ellen was right! The pizza was delicious, so was the Fosters.

Oh, oh. Booze and guns, I needed to buy some Camo clothes! Ellen just gave me a dirty look, then tossed a green John Deere baseball hat my way.

I told her she wasn't very lady-like snickering like that!

I guess I'm the serious one these days, Ellen acts like a high school teenager with a crush on the Quarterback. Off to bed, the alarm rang early these days.

To be continued

Many thanks to Bronwen Walsh, without her encouragement and assistance in correcting typos and errors, this story wouldn't be possible

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This story is 1321 words long.