“You buyin’ it for protection? To put in your purse?”
“Nope,” I repeated.
Zip watched me some more. “Goin’ after your ex?” he asked.
“Nope,” I said again.
Zip’s eyes got wide for a fraction of a second then they narrowed. “Goin’ after someone else?”
I looked at Zip.
Then, I don’t know why, maybe I needed to talk about it, maybe I needed someone to talk me out of my plan, but, for whatever reason, I told Zip about Park.
Then I told him about my plan.
Then he stared at me for what seemed a long time.
Finally, he walked down the display case, opened one up, pulled out a black gun and said, “Glock 19, nine millimeter. It’s light, it’s dependable and it’ll fit in your purse.”
Hallelujah.
“Sold,” I said.
“Got a shooting range out back. Every day, you’re in here for at least an hour. Every day, I’ll give you the hour free and I’ll teach you. You don’t go on the street until you can handle that gun. Then I got some boys I want you to talk to. They’ll show you how to handle yourself. Be here tomorrow at six.”
I was a little shocked but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth so I nodded.
“Let’s fill out the paperwork,” Zip finished.
Zip made me practice shooting until my arms ached. Sometimes, one of his boys, Heavy or Frank, would come get me and take me out and they’d show me other things. They taught me about knives (mostly, how to avoid them, but also how to handle them). They also taught me how to scrap; how to punch; how to duck; how to drive; how to use stun guns, tasers and mace; how to be quiet; how to be invisible; and how to disappear.
Most importantly, Heavy taught me, “You get in a tussle, go for the gonads. Always.”
It was good advice but I didn’t expect to get that close.
I expected to be a nuisance.
I was going to use guerrilla tactics.
And I did.
I followed Park’s killer and, while he was off making a sale, I used one of Zip’s knives and slashed all his tires.
Sure, it might seem silly and immature but you make a drug sale, you want to get away and make another sale, not call AAA.
Then during one of Park’s killer’s sales, while hidden, I threw a smoke bomb at them, interrupting the sale and freaking everyone way, the hell, out. I didn’t expect he lost his customers; drug addicts would get over a freak out when they needed a score. Still, it would aggravate the dealer and that was what I was after.
Then I followed Park’s killer some more and saw his supplier.
Then I followed his supplier.
Then I slashed his tires.
I did this a lot, messing with their heads, doing stupid, annoying shit that got right up their noses. My favorite was the plastic wrap I attached back and forth on the doorway when the dealer was taking a break from destroying people’s lives and banging his girlfriend. When he was done, he walked through the plastic wrap on the door and, for a second, had no idea what he’d walked through. He’d started yelling and carrying on, throwing his arms everywhere, plastic wrap clinging to him.
I watched the whole thing and nearly pee’d my pants laughing.
During the day, I listened to the kids.