Page 68 of Tainted Princess
I felt my lips curling and didn’t even try to stop my smile.
“Must be all the fiber.”
Vinnie laughed so hard he started coughing, but Phil just scowled.
“Moving on,” he deadpanned when we finally composed ourselves again. “I got a Glock 18, a Kimber Super Carry Ultra.” Phil rattled off the names as he laid each piece on the table. “A Glock 26, which is a subcompact, and a SIG P320, but that I only have in a .45 caliber right now.”
I stared at the weapons, the smell of gun oil and black powder feeling familiar to me in a way I could never have anticipated. They reminded me of my father, of the hours I had spent with him, learning to use and maintain my own guns. Reaching out, I ran my fingers lightly over the grip of the nearest pistol, the metal cool beneath my fingertips, and I suddenly just really wanted to talk to my dad. I ached for him with my whole soul.
Pushing down the melancholy, I snagged the P320, testing the weight in my hand. “This is heavier than the 365,” I said, and I watched Phil’s eyes widen. If I didn’t know better, I might have thought Phil was almost impressed with me. “It’s almost a full two inches longer, too.”
“It’s a good piece.”
“I bet it is, Phil,” I said, blinking at him like the ditzy girl he expected me to be. “But how will I fit it in my purse?” This time Phil actually chuckled. I set the SIG down and reached for the Glock 26. “This is better. Both in weight and length. And with the way my man here is drooling over that G18, it might be good to get us both 9mm weapons.” I watched as Vinnie’s ears reddened. “Go on, Vin. See how you like it.”
He picked it up tentatively, but I could tell he was comfortable with it just from the way he held it. Like his fingers were caressing the grip, not fighting it. He held it for a few moments, his eyes a bit far away, and I realized Vinnie was probably having his own walk down memory lane. When he set it down, I picked it up, the weight of it immediately noticeable.
“Oof, Vinnie. This thing’s a beast,” I teased. “I’d probably tip over if I tried to carry it.” He smiled smugly. “And over eight inches long, too.” I winked, and his ears got even redder.
“What can I say, ma’am,” he shrugged casually. “I have big hands.”
This time, even Phil laughed.
“Alright,” I said, bringing us back to the matter at hand. “We’ll take both Glocks, but you’ll tell me when you get the 365, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. Then looked at me again. “You clear on how to maintain this weapon, lad—ugh, Frankie?” See? My respect level was already increasing with Phil.
Rather than calling Phil out on his almost slip, I proceeded to field strip the G26, dropping out the double stack mag and racking the slide to ensure the chamber was clear. I moved my hand to the right, just enough so that it wasn’t pointing at Phil, but still close enough to make him sweat, then pulled the trigger. The empty click that echoed through the silent room made him flinch, and I grinned at him.
Bringing the pistol back in front of me, I drew back the slide, pulled on disassembly leavers to release it from the rest of the weapon, then proceeded to remove the spring guide and barrel.
Once I had all four separate pieces on the table in front of me, I quickly reversed the steps and reassembled it flawlessly.
The entire thing took less than thirty seconds.
Phil stared for a moment, mouth even more open than normal, before he grunted. “Right. Good.”
He wiped down the two unwanted weapons before returning them to the shelves behind him, then moved to a different area to gather the necessary accessories and ammunition. I talked Vinnie into a slick leather holster, and you would have thought it was Christmas with the way his eyes lit up. I’d have to find more ways to put that look on his face.
When we finally had all the necessary items, Phil led us back toward the shop, but before we left the secret room, something caught my eye. There, on the wall that I’d had my back to this whole time, was a selection of knives. Most of them were military grade, with large grips and dual edges for both survival in the woods and in combat, but the one I wanted was smaller, sleek, and just my style.
“Hey, Phil,” I called, drawing him back to me. “I want this, too.”
He eyed the item in question, and a smile split his narrow face. “Of course, you do. Because after all the shit you’ve given me today, why not throw in a shiny purple butterfly knife on top of everything else?”
“Now, Phil. Sarcasm really doesn’t suit you. And besides, it’s more of an iridescent, or opal, maybe, than actual purple.” I rolled my eyes playfully. “Purple would just be so gaudy, don’t you think?”
“Sure thing, Frankie. I’ll add it to the list.”
Once Phil had totaled all our items, then I talked him down from the ridiculous fees he thought he was going to charge, we were headed out the door.
“Frankie,” he said, holding up the card I had left him, the one with my symbol on it. “You said trust, remember?”
“Of course, Phil. And I meant it. But you know it goes both ways. Don’t make me come back here and take down your whole operation.”
He grunted at me again. “You could try, lady, but no one is getting through that door without me.”
Letting my eyes show just what I thought about that statement, I watched as the color drained from Phil’s face.
“That’s where you’re wrong Phil,” I said, my smile stretching like a crazed banshee. “I don’t need you.” I placed my sunglasses on again as Vinnie opened the door, letting in the Las Vegas sunshine. “I only need your thumb.”
