The Chord to my Heart

15: Calling The Shots

                                                                    15: Calling The Shots

            It was official. Mase was insane. I was currently wearing massive headphones and clear, safety glasses. He stood behind me, urging me forward towards the metal weapon sitting on the counter. 

            “Mase, I’m not doing this,” I said, moving the headphones from my left ear. I turned to face him, shaking my head. From the moment Mase drove us to the indoor shooting range, I refused to come inside, let alone pick up a gun. Yet here I was. 

            “This is a good way to release any built-up anger. Trust me, it helps,” he said. 

            “So you’ve done this before?” I asked, skeptical. Shooting a gun never crossed my mind as a way to let my anger out. The thought scared me, actually. I’d never held a real gun before, much less fired one. 

            “Yes. Plenty of times. How about I go first and show you how to do it?” he asked, slipping on his own pair of safety glasses. 

            “Yeah, okay,” I said, moving to the far corner of the closed off room, getting furthest away from the gun as possible. Mase pulled on his headphones, while walking right up to the counter, picking up the gun with ease. 

            “Just watch from there and keep your headphones on,” he said, his tone serious. 

            I nodded my head, pulling my headphones back into place and pressed my back against the wall. Mase turned towards the target that sat about twenty feet down the line from us. He stood tall, jaw clenched, keeping his shoulders back and spreading his feet slightly. He flicked the safety off before wrapping both of his hands around the cold metal, raising his arms directly in front of him. 

            He shot at the target with ease, his wrists bending back with each pull of the trigger. The loud bang caused my heart to leap, even with the noise-constricting headphones in place. Not only did Mase have good aim, hitting the paper target in the face and chest, but he looked good doing it. My stomach did a familiar flip, caused by nerves, as I watched him fire the gun with confidence. It was hard to believe that the same Mase was so carefree earlier, playing bowling and wanting to sneak into a movie. He was so much more serious here. More grown up even. 

            He put the safety back on before setting the gun back down on the counter and turning towards me. The serious look disappeared as he walked over to me wearing a huge smile. He looked relieved. As if he just dropped off a portion of his pain and heart ache right there on the counter with the gun. 

            “See? It’s not so bad. And it’s even better when you’re the one calling the shots,” he said, laughing at his own joke. “No pun intended.” 

            He winked, before catching my wrist in his hand and pulling me towards the counter. He stood beside me, holding out the gun for me to take. My throat went dry, my heart thumping loudly against my chest. With shaky hands, I reached out for it, wrapping my fingers around the thick metal. It felt cool against my skin and a lot heavier than it looked. I took a deep breath and tried to mimic the way Mase stood earlier, ready to fire. 

            I jumped slightly when I felt his fingers graze my cheek as he stood behind me, pulling the headphones from my ear. 

            “Hey, you’re fine. Just calm down. I’ll help you the first few times if you don’t want to shoot alone yet,” he said, his soft voice soothing my nerves.