Who Is GunDiva? Part III

If you're just joining us, you can get caught up by reading Part I and Part II.

I've been stalling writing this part, so please forgive me if it's kind of choppy and vague (I'll try to write cohesive sentences).  I didn't realize, until I started this series how tough it was going to be to re-visit the past.

Part of the reason that Crazy B wanted to become a certified Protection Specialist was that he'd already wrangled up a client; the wife of a prominent doctor who was being stalked.  Her husband knew of Crazy B's law enforcement background and approached him about his wife's little stalker problem.  Crazy B even managed to talk the client into paying for his certification. 

We did the paperwork to become an S-corp and went into business. 

I complete his course work, he completed his Resident Training and our price went up.  The plan was for us to get the business off the ground and then I would attend ESI. 

During the brief period of time we were in business, he'd purchased a little Beretta Bobcat .25 caliber for me to carry while we were working.  Keep in mind that we didn't have CCWs, we didn't have a Sheriff who supported the CCW law.  Crazy B managed to talk a friend of his, who happened to be Chief of Police in another city, into issuing him a CCW so that he could carry legally.  I could not, which was the reasoning behind buying me the Noisy Cricket. 

Very long story short: Crazy B ran up a lot of bills, slept with our client, pissed off the other protection agency in town and ended up running off to Texas, where he spent some time in jail and I got to deal with the FBI (and the very pissed off other protection agency).


When he ran off to Texas, I kept my gun.  Turns out that was a very smart move.

I chalked it up to a tough lesson learned and wrote him off.


And then he returned.  The man who slept with our client, destroyed our business (not to mention what little relationship we'd had), came back and had the audacity to get upset when he found out I'd moved on.  Like upset enough to start threatening my new boyfriend.  Like upset enough to start slashing my tires.  Like upset enough to start being a royal pain in the butt and make me start carrying 24/7, CCW be damned.

I went everywhere with that Noisy Cricket, it never left my hip.  I had it within arm's reach when I showered.  I kept it in my CD holder above my sun visor in the car.  When I was on campus, it was in a small, easily accessible compartment in my computer bag. 

I. Was. Never. Unarmed. Ever.

Thank God for de Becker.  I found him while I was doing Crazy B's coursework for ESI.  I kept the books.  They were such a great help during all of this.

Who Is GunDiva? Part II

So, Crazy B and I spent some time at the range and I got more and more proficient with his guns.  It was about this time that he decided that he wanted to "get back" into Personal Protection (bodyguarding).  In the past, he'd been a cop and done some protection work on the side.  Being the supportive girlfriend I was, I encouraged him to go back to school and get his certificate from Executive Security International, an Executive Protection school.

He enrolled and then handed his books over to me; being the good, supportive girlfriend I was, I did all of his work for him.  I'm so not condoning what I did, in doing his homework for him, but I learned so much from doing all of his course work.  One of my papers (in his name, of course) actually was used as an example paper by one of the instructors.  Am I pissed that I did the work and he got the certificate?  Hell, yes, but what I learned came in handy when Crazy B's true colors came out.

To his credit, he did at least read some of the course materials and at least read the papers before he turned them in.  Otherwise, he would have fallen flat on his face when he went to do his resident training.  It was while he was in school that he developed an interest in tactical weapons; semi-automatic handguns rather than the wheel guns.

He bought a Glock 21 and we took it to the range.  He ran a magazine through it and was always low and right.  He was frustrated and convinced that the sights were off on the gun.  I didn't realize it at the time - because I was so new to shooting - shooting down and to the right is classic yanking (slapping) the trigger.  Finally, he handed me the Glock and told me to shoot it to see if I was having the same problem.

I lined up my sight picture, pressed the trigger and blew away the X ring.

Just to make sure it wasn't a fluke, I did it again.  Half a magazine later, I handed the Glock back to Crazy B and said, "shoots straight for me."

I was bit.  I'd been luke-warm about shooting the wheel guns, but, man oh man, I fell in love with the "combat tupperware."