“Never that. I’m driving; you can be my navigator. Also, no touching don’t fly with me either,” he says, then stands. “I’m touching but I’ll just use my hands.”
“And no fingers,” she adds as she reaches for her luggage. When she bends, he’s on her, grabbing her ass. “Stop!” She giggles like a little girl. “You better stop.”
Her fake pleas are ignored and Akeem’s hands remain on some part of her as she dresses in black ripped jeans and a graphic tee with cuts in the back. After taming her hair with a wide-toothed comb and her fingers, they head downstairs.
They pick up coffee and chicken biscuits from a local drive-thru then head to their destination in Port St. Joe. After several unanswered questions about their final destination, Akeem stops asking and drives. After ten minutes on US-98, he exits and drives another two miles then pulls up to her surprise.
“A gun range,” he says, delighted.
“You said shooting relaxes you and I want to learn too,” she says with a smile.
“When did you ev?—”
“Last night. It’s a private club but something called trap shooting is open to the public. We just have to pay for rounds.”
She did this for me.
Caught up in her thoughtfulness, it takes Akeem a moment to respond. The words that finally fall from his lips are simple but convey his true appreciation.
“Thanks,” he says before he leans over, snakes his hand behind her neck, then pulls her in for a passionate kiss.
“You welcome,” she gushes.
“You’re gonna like this but it might be a little hard at first. Besides your shoulder…” he begins but she interrupts.
“My shoulder is fine. It doesn’t hurt,” she admits.
“This might aggravate it,” he counters.
“It won’t,” she insists.
“A’ight but know that trap shooting is hitting a moving target, usually a clay pigeon, but we’ll focus on basic gun handling and hand-eye coordination. If you hit one, great, but don’t worry if you don’t.”
“Oh, I’m hitting one!” she exclaims excitedly and he shakes his head while chuckling.
“Well, let’s go, shooter.”
After killing the engine, they get out and head to the main entrance. Gulf Rifle and Pistol Club is a massive property. It consists of twenty-five and fifty-yard pistol ranges as well as one-hundred, two-hundred, and three-hundred-yard rifle ranges. For trap shooting, there’s a fully automated range and shed.
They enter, sign the required waivers, and Akeem purchases ear plugs, safety glasses, and 7.5 ounce loads. He also rents two 12-gauge shotguns and they head behind the clubhouse tothe trap house. Three shooters are already lined up. So after securing their plugs and glasses, Sunjiya and Akeem join them.
“Can you go first so I can finally see the professional shoot?” she asks, speaking louder than normal due to her earplugs.
He removes one of his earplugs then hers before answering. “I can do that and I won’t miss,” he says, then winks. “Watch my stance, how I position my gun, and my follow-through,” he instructs before stepping forward.
Because she’s studying his every move, Akeem exaggerates each of his movements. After adopting a comfortable stance with his knees bent slightly, his feet shoulder-width apart, and his weight shifted forward, he pre-mounts the shotgun. He places it to his shoulder, ensuring the muzzle is just above the trap house. He sets aim, then calls out.
“Pull!” he yells and the clay pigeon is released. Smoothly, he fires, swinging through the rising target and following through. He keeps his gun moving after firing, and bullseye! He hits and shatters the clay pigeon.
“Yes!” Sunjiya screams excitedly. She’s anxious more than ever to shoot now but she also wants to actually hit the target. So she studies Akeem as he calls out and successfully hits four more targets.
When Akeem finishes, he turns to Sunjiya and notices her and the three other shooters staring in admiration. The oldest of the crew shakes his head while smiling then taps his ear, signaling for Akeem to remove his plugs.
“You know what ya doing with the gun. Military?” the older man questions.
“Special Forces,” Akeem replies.
“Retired Navy,” the older man says and Akeem offers a nod of respect. “You ’bout to teach her a thing or two?”
