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“The Outsiders? That old ass movie with Tom Cruise?”

“One and the same. You could’ve been Pony Boy’s brother or his cousin from out of town,” I told him, barely able to contain my laughter.

“Are you obsessed with that movie or something,” he asked and stepped back so I could line up my shot.

“Nope. One of the foster homes I stayed in, the parents were always gone and they would lock us in the basement with tons of VHS tapes. My favorite was The Outsiders.” I waited for the pity or some trite remark, but the fucker laughed. Laughed!

“Don’t tell me, you discovered yourself as a woman to that film?”

This time I put the gun down and doubled over with laughter. “Oh, Tate. Who knew you were such a funny fucker?”

He shrugged. “I’m an acquired taste.”

“Hmph,” was all I could reply because my mind rolled a few images I had no business thinking about. I got myself under control and picked the gun back up, whispering each step to myself. “And squeeze,” I said and pulled the trigger. My eyes whipped open and I squinted. “Oh shit, I actually hit it!” I jumped up and down, wrapping an arm around Tate. “Die fucker!”

Tate chuckled and shook his head. “All right, Annie Oakley, let’s see if you can do it again.”

I did. Again and again. Mostly my bullets clipped the outer edge of the paper, nowhere near the human silhouette, but it felt damn good. “So in ab

out two years, I’ll be ready to protect myself,” I told him an hour later.

“Nah, you’ll be ready way sooner. But you need to do this a few more times. I’ll even give you a discount for the open carry class. It’s six classes but you’ll know how to shoot, clean and load your weapon. Plus, overall safety.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “Look at you, being all business-like.”

He grinned and rolled his eyes. “Quiet, Cover Girl, let me show you what to do next.” Tate stood close, showing me how to check the chamber without shooting myself in the face. “We’ll do cleaning next time.”

“Eager to get rid of me?”

“Hell yeah. I hate beautiful women who smell good. Yuck,” he added with a shiver.

“Whatever.” I shoulder checked him as we went inside so I could pay for today’s lesson. I insisted. “Thanks for this Tate, I’m no safer but I don’t feel so...victimized.”

“That’s a start. Just call for your next lesson.”

I nodded, grabbed my purse and walked through the elaborate structure that finally spit me out onto the blacktop parking lot. I slid my Chanel glasses down to shield my eyes. I loved these sunglasses, they were classics and they were the first major purchase I’d made with a modeling check. It had been a fantastic feeling and the fact they were still in one piece made me feel like less of an asshole for dropping so much cash on a pair of sunglasses. Though here in sunny Nevada, they got a lot more use than when I was based in New York.

“Hey bitch, just because you used to be somebody don’t mean you can come in here and take what don’t belong to ya!” A stringy-haired blonde with bad highlights and high-waisted acid washed jeans stopped right in my path. She was a little shorter and a little rounder than me, but she looked mean as a junkyard dog. “Fucking slut.”

“Look bitch, I don’t know who you think you are but if you have a problem you should probably take it up with the dick that’s got you acting like a damn fool, and not me. Because I’m not in the fucking mood.” I could tell I shocked her and I was damn proud of that. People, especially women, thought they could intimidate me because they didn’t know that I was a bitch on wheels with just enough hell in me to make them regret it. “And while you’re at it, you should get those split ends checked out.” I skirted past her and kept walking toward my car, feeling a little amped up by the encounter with the eighties barfly.

“Stay away or I’ll make you pay, bitch!” she screamed and seconds later I felt air whizz by my head as a beer bottle sailed past me.

“Learn how to throw, hooker!” I laughed and unlocked my car with my key fob as I approached it, shaking my head at the foolish woman. Why was it that women always wanted to fight over the one thing in this world that didn’t mean shit? Men, yeah right. My career, Jana, my life...yes. Men weren’t even worth the effort of balling up my fist.

And definitely not the bruised and bloodied knuckles, because I didn’t slap. I jabbed.

I refused to let that woman ruin my good mood and decided to head to Jana’s house. Maybe some alcohol therapy and girl time would make me feel better about everything. I parked behind her Prius and walked around the back because it was a nice day and Jana loved her backyard. I found her staring off into space like something was terribly wrong. “What’s up? Is it Max? Do we need to kill him or something, because I will totally be your alibi.”

Jana turned to me with tears swimming in her eyes but slowly enough to torture me, her mouth pulled up into a grin. “Nothing as bad as all that. Teddy, I’m pregnant.”

I gasped at the idea that I’d have a little niece or nephew to spoil rotten, then a frown appeared. “Oh, I get it. You’re in love with a big handsome man who thinks the world was created just for you, an awesome career and the bestest best friend ever. Your life totally sucks.”

She smacked me playfully. “Shut up.”

“You’re happy about this. Right?”

Jana nodded, flicking her long blonde hair out of her face as she sniffled. “I am, Teddy. I really, really am. It’s just, well I’d given up on thinking this would ever happen for me, you know? And what if Max isn’t happy?”