Shack flips him off.
“Everybody’s a better shot than Shack,” Keno teases with a grin aimed at me.
“Go stand there by the targets, fuckface. Bet you twenty bucks I hit you.”
Keno chuckles. “Don’t get your panties in a wad, Shack.”
I shade my eyes and stare at the targets across the grassy area. “Am I supposed to be able to hit those?”
Keno lifts the gun. “Let’s start with the basics.”
“The basics?”
“Ever fire a gun?”
I shake my head.
“Ever hold a gun?”
“Nope.”
“This is a 9mm. Let’s start with how to load it.” He presses a button on the side of the handgrip, ejecting the magazine.
“You insert the ammo one at a time, with the rounded side forward until the magazine is full. You-insert it by pushingupward into the handgrip until you hear a clicking noise indicating the magazine has locked in place.”
He hands me the gun.
“Now, you try it.”
I repeat the steps he showed me.
Then he steps behind me, lifting my arms toward the target and whispering the rest of the instructions in my ear. I can’t help but be affected by his body pressing against my back.
“Disengage the safety,” he murmurs, showing me.
“Has Keno ever brought you coffee in bed?” Shack asks. “Women love when you do that.”
Bam. Bam. Bam.He fires at his target in rapid succession.
“Except they always spoil it,” he adds.
Bam. Bam. Bam.
“Asking questions likewho are youandwhat are you doing in my house.”
Bam. Bam. Bam.
I try to hold back the laughter, my body shaking. “He’s a good shot, isn’t he?”
Keno snorts. “His greatest talent is avoiding work.”
“Why you gotta be the fly in my taco?”
“Ignore him. He ain’t right upstairs,” Keno insists.
Shack lowers his gun, taking offense at that last comment and objecting. “My mind is like a whip.”
“Yeah, one crack and it unravels.”