Up until now, he had been speaking in a flat, Midwestern accent. Suddenly, a little Southern came in. “I was fixing to get real mad, started yelling at her, and she turns green and runs to the bathroom. I run after her. Well, kinda wobbled-I was three sheets. I go right into the ladies room behind her, and she runs into one a the stalls, bends over and, hell… Throws up! My glass eye right there in the toilet with all that barf from drinking all day and not eating, guess ’cause she has to keep her figure.”
“Not good,” I ventured.
“Damned straight. She also heaved up her dentures. Girl can’t be more than twenty-five. Pretty little thing. Named Destiny. And she’s got false teeth.” He sighed. “What can you do? So here I am without my eye.”
At least he didn’t call himself “Deadeye.”
I repeated, “Home defense.”
“Got it.” Now he was from Iowa or Nebraska again. “Here’s this little Kel Tec number back here.” He pointed to one of his guns on the wall. It looked like something from a science fiction movie. “Gas piston. Ten rounds, but I can give you a deal on a thirty-round mag. Sweet. Just remember, if you do ’em in the yard, drag the body inside your door. Self-defense. Now, ’course if you’re a traditionalist, which it looks like you are, I recommend a Remington 870, twelve-gauge, with a pistol grip…”
While he went on, I nodded, and checked the place out more. It was retail space that had gone through many incarnations. The drop ceiling looked as if it hadn’t been replaced since LBJ was president, and it had dark yellow water stains in some spots. At the back of the long room was an alcove and scarred double doors. Still, a new surveillance camera was mounted in one corner, inside a saucer-like cowling that allowed it to swivel to different angles. I watched it as it turned. Also at the back was a mirror, probably one-way glass. He was the only worker visible in the store but I sensed he wasn’t alone. I was the only customer, which seemed odd, even if it was the middle of a workday and Phoenix was in its worst recession in history.
“Let me think about it,” I said, told him he owned a great store.
“I’m proud of it.” He rubbed at his missing eye. “Been out here twenty years and seen what they did to this place. Tax and spend. Open borders. A goddamned invasion. Islamo-fascists coming, too. No wonder people are scared and need to buy guns for home defense. At least we got rid of that spic sheriff.”
