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Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9
Mason strode with confidence into the paintball registration area just in front of the general store. Flanked on his right by Tony and followed by three other men in similar paramilitary gear and camouflage. These were, Gabe Duffy, Travis Jason and Billy Tate. The three men were new to the squad. The usual gang could not make it to the match so Mason improvised. This weekend, he had called up some new talent to mix things up on his team. They were called Team Blackjack, the name of any team lead by Jack Mason.
Gabe Duffy stood an inch taller than Jack but a little on the thin side. He had the slight athletic build of someone who might have played water polo or volleyball in school. Gabe wore a black baseball cap backwards to control his light brown hair. His hair was not too long but during stressful situations it would take on a curl. He did not know if it was in reaction to the humidity of his own sweat or some strange sort of scalp goose bumps. He just knew that he disliked it. Gabe had met Tony and Jack on the amateur paintball circuit, each time losing to Team Blackjack. Gabe started up his team, the Healdsburg Hitmen with guys from his work. Travis and Billy were bartenders from La Visage, the restaurant where he was a Chef. It had taken some doing to get the time off but Gabe was the kind of chef talent that kept customers coming back. His employer balked at the idea of losing three of his staff yet he did want to keep Gabe happy. Gabe had hoped to work with Mason on the same side to learn about his strategy from within. Maybe they could become permanent members of Blackjack and win some first place trophies. Gabe’s team was good but Mason’s was pro material.
Travis Jason stopped to tie his black sneakers. His friend and roommate, Billy Tate stopped as well. They were like brothers but they could not appear more different. Travis was five foot eight with a very fair complexion. His light blond hair appeared almost white. His best friend Billy teased Travis that he was melanin deficient. Billy was a half foot taller than his friend. He was a black man who had grown up in the same neighborhood as Travis since kindergarten. His hair was cropped very close and he had a fair amount of muscle, much more than Travis. Billy, who was more outgoing and jovial when meeting new people, would introduce Travis as his “albino midget brother”. Though they looked very different; Travis and Billy were inseparable.
Andy stood next to a booth that contained an array of measuring equipment and a large CO2 tank. A man in a referee uniform was filling Tony’s air canister that powered his paint rifle. Tony accepted the tank and attached the propellant to the rear of his weapon then re-attached his butt stock. He handed the reassembled weapon back to the referee. Paint guns are just that, they are guns. They fire balls of cellulose covered paint, driven by terrific amounts of compressed air. At their lowest setting a paintball hit is sure to leave a deep bruise on the skin. An internal valve regulates the amount of pressure that is delivered with every pull of the trigger. Each field has limits on their player’s gun pressure. Andy’s field used a different system to ensure compliance. After verifying the settings were within limits, the referee placed a thin strip of foil tape across the barrel where it met the body of the weapon. If someone were to adjust their pressure on the field, the tape would tear. Should a referee see a gun with damaged verification tape, the player would be immediately disqualified. Finished, the referee returned the weapon to Tony. He switched on the safety and approached Andy.
“Blackjack, over here,” Andy called out. He spoke into a hand radio as the boys approached.
“Five Minutes, are they on the field?… Good,” he finished with the radio and spoke to the men.
“All right, championship match lasts ninety minutes. The team with the most members after that wins. Your opponents have already taken the field so you will be team blue today.”
Andy distributed five small blue pieces of cloth. As the contestants strapped on their arm bands, Andy took notice of the combat knife strapped to Mason’s gear harness. He pointed with is hand radio at the knife.
“What the hell is that?” he accused with the voice of an angry parent.
Mason was taken aback by the tone of Andy’s words. What he had seen of Andy over the past two days he had liked. Andy seemed like a cool guy trying to start up a good field. If Mason had thought Andy was an ass he would have barked back and returned aggression in kind. But this was not the case. Jack quickly surmised that Andy’s anger was misplaced and decided to keep the peace.
“My knife,” he answered in a calm tone.
“You can’t take those things out on the field,” Andy said relaxing,
“We wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt. The girl inside will hold it for you.” Andy pointed his hand radio towards the door of the store. “Get your guns verified and let’s do this.”
While Tony and Mason quickly unfastened their combat knives from their modular harnesses Gabe gave them a look.
“You guys are Hard-Core,” he said with mock praise.
Veronica finished labeling a box of supplies with a large red marker. She was on her knees behind the counter sliding the heavy box under the cash register. Retrieving yet another box she opened it to see what was inside. She labeled each box according to their contents. Nikki watched her curiously. She had worked with Veronica every weekend this summer. She thought Veronica was nice. She spoke differently than most people in Sierra Valley. Veronica did not have an accent, like she was from another part of the country, but she used words differently, more formal and clear. Nikki wondered how old she was. She did not think Veronica would mind being asked about her age yet she felt that it would be somehow rude to inquire. She looked young and healthy, yet seemed older. Nikki thought it strange that Veronica took it upon herself to label the inventory. Andy did not ask her to do it. If it was Veronica’s store, then that might make sense. Why volunteer for something when you could just kick back and get paid for watching the counter? Nikki helped herself to a pack of gum from the candy display. She had been chewing Andy’s gum all summer. She would have paid for it if someone had mentioned it, but no one ever did. Perks of the job, thought Nikki and placed a piece in her mouth.
“Hello,” said Tony with an amiable cheer.
Caught off guard by his approach, the chewing gum in her mouth had yet to soften with her body heat. She placed a hand over her lips embarrassed.
“May I help you?” she offered, her voice distorted by the gum.
“Yeah, can you keep this for me until after the match,” he handed her his large combat knife. She received the knife which sank in her grasp just a bit due to its weight. She brought up her right hand to open the clasp. Nikki pulled the twelve inch carbon steel blade halfway out of its scabbard, examining its dull non reflective surface.
“What do you cut with a knife like this?” she asked with eyebrows raised.
“History, tradition, the curvature of space time,” he answered having a bit of fun at her expense.
“What?” Nikki questioned.
“Abstract concepts, I mean, look at the thing, it’s very sharp.”
“What?” she asked again with growing frustration.
Jack appeared next to Tony, casually laying his knife on the glass counter.
“Mine too please,” Jack added.
Veronica, finished with her toils, rose from behind the counter. Her eyes met Jack’s. The two shared a glance for a heartbeat.
“Hi,” Jack said with a smile.
“Hello,” she said while a flock of butterflies took flight in her midsection. Jack’s eyes lingered for a moment then fell from her face to her hands. His face brightened as if he were struck by inspiration. She felt quite nervous at the possibility of what part of her body was drawing his attention.
“Can I borrow that marker for a hour or so?” he asked, looking at her right hand with a growing hint of mischievousness. She had forgotten that she was holding the marker. Quickly, she replaced the cap.
“Sure,” she said offering it to Jack. He took it gently, a slight pause before she let go.
“My name is Jack Mason,” his deep voice said.
“Veronica,” she said unaware that she had replied. In that moment something happened to Veronica that had not occurred for a very long time. Not since her life had been turned upside down by the earthquake, not since before her father had passed away, not since little Jordan Paul had kissed her after her eleventh birthday party. In that moment, Veronica blushed.
“Thank you Veronica, I’ll be back soon.” He turned on a heel, pocketed the felt tip and proceeded out the doors. Tony joined him and left the market. Veronica took note of the shape of Jack’s butt under his camouflage outfit. Her expression was one of approval. She watched Jack walk towards his men outside. She wondered if he would look back at her. Jack turned his head, glanced at her, smiled and then returned his attention to his friends. When Jack looked back through the open doors, she felt another splash of adrenalin warm her body. She blushed again, turned to hide her embarrassment and pretended to sort through some paperwork.
What the hell was that? Thought Veronica; the adrenalin making her feel nervous. She suddenly felt a little stupid. She had lovers in her past; men that she knew, but did not really know her. Short term boyfriends in high school and the occasional blind date made up her past relationships. But no one ever truly close, certainly not since her father contracted cancer. She felt that she was a mess. The thought of sharing all of her neurosis with someone other than a trained professional bound by the protection of a patient-doctor privilege frightened Veronica. She worried that she may never let herself get close to a man. Losing her father left her with an aversion to letting others into her life. She felt silly that such a small moment with a man left her flustered. All he did was smile and be nice, she told herself, no big deal. He was charm and testosterone and she wished she could get to know him. She wished she could allow a special someone to get to know her. The encounter brought up thoughts that she did not want to think about. Veronica noticed that her hands were clammy. Her thoughts were racing. The walls of the little market seemed to close in on her. She had not felt this kind of anxiety since before she left San Francisco. She needed a moment alone. Stealing a glance at Nikki, she could see that her issues had gone unnoticed. Veronica took a deep breath. Her throat was parched. She exited from behind the counter and grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler that advertised Cold Drinks.
“Going to the restroom,” she said to Nikki over her shoulder.
“Don’t use the outhouses, they’re NASTY,” Nikki shouted.
A local man clad in cut off jeans and an open flannel shirt placed a twelve pack of beer on the counter.
“Whose nasty?” said the man, his open shirt revealing grey chest hairs.
Nikki clamped her jaw down on a gum bubble with a loud snap.
“Have I.D.?” she questioned disinterested.
Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9
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