I dig into my own purse and pull out an envelope with the four hundred in cash. He counts it quickly by placing it in his bag and opening the envelope out of sight of wandering eyeballs.

Once I place the gun, still wrapped firmly in paper, into my satchel, the exchange is complete. He gives me a brief nod and walks out of the door, dumping his drink in the garbage can on the corner.

Meanwhile, I melt into the chair at the far end of the corner. I put the bag firmly against my thigh, taking a sip of my drink and spilling part of it on myself. Watching my hands clean up the mess, I finally see exactly how much they are still shaking.

But it’s not just the gun that’s scaring me, it’s the fact that I might have to use it. And sometime soon.

8

Olive

When I go there…

Initially, I thought I would make my way to the clubhouse the day after I bought the gun, but that evening, I decide that I need more time to prepare.

I haven’t held a gun in my hands since I was a little girl and my uncle showed me how to shoot his rifle. I spend the evening practicing loading and unloading the clip and putting in the bullets I had bought at Walmart, following along with the instructions on YouTube.

One of the videos mentions that if I don’t want the gun traced then I can file off the number and exactly how to do it using things I have in my garage (as if I have a garage). But checking my gun, I see that I got a good deal: the last owner had already done this, just like he said he would.

The following morning I take a bus to a gun range across town. From the online reviews I know that they don’t ask for identification and it’s a good place if you want to keep to yourself as you shoot.

The practice goes as well as can be expected. I’m not a good shot but I review the right technique from the YouTube videos I saved and make sure to follow their instructions explicitly. By the end of my hour there, I’m at least hitting the target even if it’s not right in the center.

The following day I put on a thick black jacket (vegan leather!), which I found at one of my favorite thrift stores and take two buses to the clubhouse that Nicholas’ mom told me about. I’m tempted to use an Uber but buses are harder to track just in case something happens.

Dressed in jeans and ankle boots, I glance at myself in the window of an empty storefront.

What the hell am I doing? I say silently to myself.

What is my plan exactly?