Lineage(61)

“Well, I’m looking for something for home defense, and I’m not really sure—”

“Oh, no problem, my friend. I think we can find something for you in the midst of all this junk!” The boulder of a man came trundling around the end of the glass case with surprising ease and stuck out a hand capable of making a beer can disappear within its folds. Lance reached out his own hand and was amazed at how dwarfed it felt within the grip of the giant before him. “The name’s Roger, my friends call me Stub. Although, Stub didn’t seem to ring very well when I was naming my business, thus Endor’s Guns was born.”

“Nice to meet you, Roger,” Lance said, pulling his hand to his side.

“Oh, call me Stub. If you don’t buy anything, you can call me Roger.” The same dynamite laughter erupted from the man’s mouth, and it was so genuine Lance couldn’t help but join in. “So tell me, is there a particular reason you’re looking for a home-defense weapon?”

Lance debated on whether to tell the man about the intrusions, considering that he didn’t know him from Adam. He might even know who was entering the house in the dead of night. Lance decided that purchasing a firearm, especially if it was from the man who knew the person responsible, might be enough of a warning to scare them off.

“I’ve had some intrusions at my home lately,” Lance said, letting the words hang in the air and studying Stub’s expression. What he could see of the man’s face looked thoughtful.

“Someone breaking in and stealing things while you’re gone?” Stub inquired.

“No, at night while I’m there.”

The big man’s eyebrows went up in surprise and his lips extruded as he looked at Lance. “It’s really none of my business, but are they threatening ya? Because if they are, you may want to walk across the street to the police station before you buy a gun.”

“No, not threatening me, just …” Lance struggled to explain the occurrences without sounding certifiably crazy. Now that he had to put what he had been experiencing over the past two nights into words, he realized just how insane it did sound. “I’m not sure what they want, but there’s been someone in my house the last two nights and I don’t get the feeling that they’re really friendly.”

Stub nodded and shoved his lower lip up in a “good enough” expression as he turned and walked to the glass case, motioning for Lance to follow. “Well, truly what I’d recommend for home defense nowadays is an AR-15. Light, strong, easy to maneuver, lots of firepower, and more accessorial than a Barbie. You have any experience with firearms?”

Lance felt his growing sense of being out of his element inflate at the question but felt no need to lie about being inexperienced. “Never fired a shot,” he said.

Stub nodded, his eyes twinkling above the tangle of beard. “Honest man. Not too many guys would admit to never having handled a gun before. I suppose they don’t want to seem weak. Weakness is trying to be something you’re not, if you ask me.”

Stub turned and began walking down the middle row of guns, their barrels shining darkly in the overhead fluorescents. He stopped at the end of the stand and tilted his head to one side, as if he were considering something much more important than finding the correct weapon for a newbie. Lance’s eyes wandered from the silent man to the encased handguns a few feet to his right. He liked the curves and shining metal of a few of the pieces, and reasoned that a handgun might be ideal for his purpose when Stub spoke from the other end of the shop.

“I’m guessing you don’t have a permit to purchase a handgun?” Lance looked up and noticed the other man hadn’t even looked in his direction, seemingly reading his mind.

“No, I don’t. I’m assuming you need one to buy a handgun?” Stub merely smiled and nodded.

The big man shifted in his enormous boots and then walked around to the far side of the rack, bending to retrieve a black shotgun from the sea of weapons. He hefted it, then nodded. “This’ll do what you need. Mossberg 590A1, twelve-gauge pump. Holds six shots and it’s easy to aim and shoot. Now, I’m not saying you won’t need to practice up a bit—not ever having fired a gun before—but this should work just fine for home defense.”

Stub racked open the slide of the black gun, revealing its emptiness, and handed the gun to Lance. Lance took the weapon from the large man and instantly liked how it felt. The stock fit well to his shoulder and both hand-and fore-grip seemed to be made for him. He turned the gun over a few times, and then, looking at the storeowner, he grinned.