“It’s in my bag. I can give it to you after I finish up here.”
“Hey, Tyler!”
They looked over to see Tyler’s coach, an older man in dungarees and a sweatshirt with a whistle around his neck, staring at them.
“Yeah, Coach?”
“Since this is swim practice do you think you can tear yourself away from the nice lady to actually practice your swimming?”
Tyler turned red. “Okay, Coach. Sure.”
“I’ll be waiting in the lobby,” said Michelle. “How do you get home usually?”
“A friend.”
“I’ll take you.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I think it’s a great idea, Tyler. I think you need to think things through on your own. Not just do what people are telling you to do. I’ll be in the lobby. It’s up to you if you go with me or not. I’ll give you the Mauser either way. I put it in a canvas bag so no one can see it.”
Michelle slipped her goggles back on, turned, and kicked off to do more laps.
Admiring her athleticism, Tyler watched her cut through the pool lane. Then he dropped back into the water and started swimming to the other side, though his strokes weren’t nearly as clean.
When he came out of the locker room about an hour later Michelle was waiting for him in the lobby, a canvas bag in one hand and a knapsack over her shoulder. She had on a knitted cap with her damp hair bundled under it, jeans, a North Face jacket, and a long muffler wrapped around her neck.
Tyler’s hair was slicked back and his jeans hung low; his sneakers had no laces and he wore his high school hoodie. He crossed the lobby to her.
She held up the canvas bag. “Here it is. You riding with me or taking your usual way home?”
Tyler looked around at the other team members passing by. He nodded to some and knuckle-smacked one boy who lustily eyed Michelle and then grinned at Tyler and mouthed the word, Sweet.
The boy said in a normal voice, “See you tomorrow, Ty.”
After he passed by, Michelle said, “You go by Ty?”
“Just to some of the guys,” Tyler said absently.
“So what’s it going to be?”
“Can we stop for some hot chocolate? The water was freezing.”
She handed him the canvas bag with the Mauser.
At a nearby Starbucks, Michelle bought Tyler a hot chocolate and herself a latte. They got back into her Land Cruiser. Tyler stared around at all the mess on the seat and the floorboard.
Michelle scooped the junk off the seat and tossed it into the back.
He peered into the backseat, where the piles of junk were even more pronounced.
“Is that a shotgun back there?” he asked, his eyes wide.
“Yeah, but it’s not loaded. I’ve been meaning to clean my truck out for like two years.”
“It might take you that long,” muttered Tyler as he stared at the piles.
“I get enough crap from my partner about my untidiness, thank you very much.”