Ashby Holler

by Jamie Zakian

  “I don’t get you.” In rough yanks, Vinny pulled off his coat. “At all.” He delivered a harsh glare along with his jacket.

  Her hands went straight to work, but the stitches couldn’t mend the rift that now lay between them. “You need this patch on when we get there or we’ll both get shot.”

  “You don’t have a patch.”

  “Everybody knows me. I’ve done this run a million times.”

  “Whatever. Just tell me when to turn.”

  That bitter fringe in Vinny’s voice, the stiff edge that cut the air…more reasons she hated herself for fucking her best friend.

  “My plan,” Sasha said meekly, without glancing up, “was to treat you like shit to keep from leading you on. I didn’t want you to know I had a good time last night. I didn’t want you to think we were…”

  “That’s a stupid plan.” Vinny’s tense body loosened, a hint of a smile lifting his cheeks.

  “I like what we have. I really don’t wanna fuck it up.”

  “Tell me about this run,” he said, his tone, look, mood, all back to the normal, chilled Vinny mode.

  “It’s a seven-hour trek south to Gulfport. We park at a dock and wait for the boat from Cancun. You give the Mexicans the briefcase, and they load the trailer. One hundred pounds on a pick-up.”

  “Oh shit! Really?”

  “Yep.” Sasha glanced across the cab between throwing stitches, Vinny’s eyes growing wider each time. “So if you ever get pulled over on the way back, you better have your finger on the trigger. The weed’s stuffed in teddy bears and crated up, but you never know. Sometimes the fuzz is just another biker-douche in disguise. That’s how they got Mad Dog.”

  “I didn’t bring a gun.”

  Sasha dropped her hands, the needle piercing leather. “You went on a run without packing proper?” She lifted the flap of her jacket, the butt of a gun strapped into her holster. “I got ya this time, but—”

  “This time?”

  “Yeah. You’ll be ridin’ solo soon, so pay attention, especially when we deal with Felix.”

  “Where’s the other truck going?” Vinny asked.

  “They’re doing a drop-off. They took the red truck, that’s ten pounds, to our buyer in Chicago. I’ll go with you on drop-offs until everyone’s comfortable. They’re always more intense than pick-ups.” Sasha looped the thread, pulled tight, and snipped the end.

  “There you go.” Sunlight shined off the runners badge as she held up the jacket. “A patched member of Ashby Trucking. You should be proud. I’m…proud of you.”

  After dropping the coat in Vinny’s lap, Sasha wrapped her fingers around the wheel. “Put it on.”

  Slowly, Vinny released his control over the eighteen-wheeler. He slithered into his second skin and pulled the collar snug against his neck. He rested his palm atop Sasha’s hand, and his gaze fell to her for a split second.

  Sasha slid from his grasp, moving back into her seat. It wasn’t Vinny acting different. He always pawed at her, flashed playful grins, proposed lewd acts. It was her. Sometime between last night and this morning, she forgot how to be cool. Sasha spun toward her window. She’d give herself twenty minutes to get her mojo back before she started faking it.

  ***

  Dez

  “You guys are pretty serious about this Sasha bullshit, huh?” Dez asked, although it was a stupid question. It only took him one glance to see the fire in her stare, which burned so bright it made him want to follow it to the ends of the Earth.

  Kev shifted into ninth gear, stepping on the gas. “Sasha’s a lot different since Ellen had you and the guys…”

  “Teach her a lesson.”

  “Yeah.” Kev rubbed the side of his neck, his nose scrunching. “I guess. I still don’t know what she did. It must’ve been major to earn a beat down like that.”

  “I’m not telling you,” Dez mumbled from behind the flame of his zippo, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

  “Nah, that’s cool. I’m just saying, you got sent away the next day so you don’t know what it was like for her.”

  Dez sat back, dropping his glare. He knew the aftermath of a beat down, received plenty as a child, though he never thought he’d deliver one to a child. The day one of Sasha’s bones cracked under his boot haunted him. It would always haunt him.

  “She had a broken jaw,” Kev rambled on, as if chatting about the features on a new Ford pickup and not the damage Dez inflicted on a little girl. “Her one eye was swelled shut for days, and she had this limp, still happens when it’s rainy, but Ellen wouldn’t let Sasha see a doctor or rest. The next day, Ellen had her mopping the clubhouse floor. The girl couldn’t even stand. It was—”

  “I don’t think this is what Ellen meant by getting me caught up.”

  “Oh shit.” Kev looked at Dez, grimacing. “Sorry, that’s a total downer. You probably wanna hear about all the hot tail running around the clubhouse these days.”

  “Fuck, finally. Now you’ve got my attention.”

  ***

  Sasha

  Sasha peered in the side mirror of the big rig, scooting to the edge of her seat. “Cut the lights. Pull up to the dock and kill the engine.”

  Gravel crunched under the weight of a creeping semi. The engine clunked, its rumble giving way to a chorus of cicadas.

  “Now what?” Vinny asked.

  A grin swept Sasha’s lips. The shake in Vinny’s voice reminded her of the first time they boosted a car together, eight years ago. It was kind of cute.

  “Now, we wait.” She stared out the windshield at the last sliver of sun, setting fast beyond shaggy trees. “Keep one eye on the gulf, the other on your mirrors.”

  Sasha tucked her jacket behind her holster, glancing around. “This is private property. Cops don’t come this deep into the swamp, so if you hear anything strange out here—”

  “Finger on the trigger.”

  “Yep. The boat will come from that direction.” Sasha leaned across the cab, pointing to the gentle waves out Vinny’s window. Her chest brushed against his arm, and he turned to face her. Warm breath flowed over her cheek, and her throat clamped shut. She backed away, swallowing hard. “You’re supposed to be watching.”

  “Right.” Vinny adjusted his perfectly fine belt, his eyes darting back to his window. “What am I watching for?”

  “When the boat gets close, it’ll blink its lights. Three times, once, then twice. Got that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then you flash the running lights twice.”

  Vinny recited the information in a near whisper when a pattern of lights flickered from the dark stretch of water. The trees lit up as he pulled a knob on the dashboard and a boat’s motor revved.

  “You ready?” Sasha asked, opening her door.

  While nodding, Vinny reached for the handle and missed.

  “Relax.” Sasha jumped to the ground. “They’ll smell your fear.” A grin spread across her lips as she strolled to the front of the semi. When Vinny stepped beside her, she slapped on a tough leer, nodded, and walked toward the dock.

  A charter boat moored beside the concrete wharf, sending little waves to rush onshore. Dim beams of moonlight shimmered off an emblem of a falcon amid flames, the words Gulf Runner Tours scrawled in red along the bow.

  “Is that my Sasha?” Felix climbed from the boat, his short stubby legs barely clearing its tall side. He stopped on the pier, smoothed the ends of his white suit, and slid his fingers along the brim of his matching hat. With outstretched arms, he traipsed forward. “My girl.”

  “Uncle Felix,” Sasha said, her smile spreading wide.

  After scooping Sasha into a tight embrace, Felix stopped to eye Vinny. “Who’s this?”

  Before Sasha could answer, a flood of men surrounded Vinny—rifles raised, guns cocked. Vinny froze mid-step.

  “This is Vinny. He’s our new runner.”

  The barrels remained aimed at Vinny’s chest, his nervous eyes on Sasha.

  �
�¿Está la policía?” Felix asked, staring into Vinny’s eyes.

  “I, uh.” Vinny’s cheeks turned red as he shrugged.

  “You know. El hombre. The fuzz.” Felix nodded, and the man beside him patted Vinny down.

  “Nah, he’s cool.” Sasha inched back, allowing the men to roughly frisk Vinny. “Known the guy since second grade. Poor bastard hasn’t stopped following me since.”

  “Smart man.” Felix waved his hand, sending his men back to the boat. He placed his hands on Sasha’s shoulders, rubbing softly. “To what do I owe the honor of your presence, my dear?”

  “Just training the new guy. And I missed you, of course.”

  Felix chuckled, his chest heaving, as a line of men hauled crates to the back of the truck behind him. “I’m happy to see you, dear, but…isn’t this a little beneath you?”

  Sasha frowned, her gaze dropping to the still patchless breast of her jacket. “We’ve had some issues. Satan’s Crew. You might be seeing a lot more of me.”

  “Pinche maricon,” Felix muttered, his expression turning venomous for the briefest of seconds. “It’ll be nice to see your face more often, but I’d like to see a patch on that skin.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Sometimes I don’t know what Ellen is thinking. Ahh, if I were twenty years younger, I’d whisk you away from all this. But then, you’re too good for me.” Felix glided his thumb along Sasha’s cheek, sparking a smile. “You know you can call me anytime if the shit gets thick. Your enemies are my enemies, no matter who they are. ¿Comprendes?”

  “Si. Gracias. You’re too kind, Felix.”

  “Only to you, my dear, only to you.”

  The cargo door of the semi slammed shut. Men gathered by the dock, clinging to their rifles, and Sasha looked at Vinny. “The case,” she said, motioning to Felix.

  Vinny crept forward, handed over a black briefcase, and nodded.

  “I don’t know about this one, princess.” Felix rubbed his smooth chin, eyeing Vinny. “Too stiff, fidgety.”

  After another round of hugs and soft Spanish words, Felix left Sasha’s side and returned to the charter boat. Her smile faded as the little red light of the stern disappeared behind mist.

  “How is that man your uncle?” Vinny asked, scanning Sasha from head to toe. “You don’t look Mexican.”

  “He’s not my real uncle.” Sasha glared at Vinny like the dummy he was, walking toward her truck. “C’mon, let’s hammer down. It’s a long ride home.”

  Chapter Six

  Ellen

  A diesel engine rumbled the clubhouse floor, and Ellen rose from her desk. She peeked out the window of the backroom as Dez jumped from the shining cab of a semi. His tight jeans hugged every curve as he walked, bringing a smirk to her lips.

  Cheers rang out from the bar, echoing through the doorway of the backroom. Ellen strolled to the threshold, staring into the bar. Women swarmed Dez by the pool table, rowdy locals filed through the open door, and speakers crackled to life.

  In almost slow motion, Dez steered his gaze to her, and she dipped her head. He cut through the crowd, walking into the backroom, and she shut the door.

  “How was your run?” Ellen leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. It was hard not to stare. His large muscles had doubled in size since he’d gone away, and those eyes of his seemed even bluer.

  “Like skinning a biker,” Dez said.

  Her own chuckle caught her by surprise, and she flung off the grin.

  “What’s up, prez?”

  “This vote might go downhill for you. Sasha has Chewy, Vinny, and Kev. You…”

  “Don’t you want your daughter to be sergeant at arms?”

  “Yeah. Maybe in five years. She’s not ready yet. The girl’s sloppy, wild. She’ll get herself killed.” Ellen’s stare sharpened, and Dez shifted. “I think Sasha will back down if she’s challenged.”

  Dez squirmed in his chair, his jaw clenching. “You mean—”

  “No. Sasha needs a heavy hand, just not that kind of heavy. You dig what I’m saying?”

  A devious gleam ran through Dez’s eye, followed by a snicker. “I got ya.”

  “Go.” Ellen motioned to the closed door. “Enjoy your party.”

  ***

  Sasha

  Sasha passed Vinny a lit cigarette. The last six hours flew by, thanks to his endless chatter about their past misadventures. She had forgotten half the dumb shit they’d done, until now.

  “How much longer?” Vinny asked, wiggling in his seat.

  “About an hour. We should catch the tail-end of your brother’s party.”

  “Don’t we have to unload this shit at the warehouse?”

  “No. Only the prez and road captain know the location of the warehouse.”

  “And you,” Vinny said, glancing at Sasha.

  “Right. That’s different. When my dad was prez, he took me everywhere with him, even let me drive the forklift to unload the crates.” Sasha turned her gaze to the window, leaning into a gentle breeze. “I stole one of those teddy bears when I was nine. Two years later, I found out what was in them, ripped the head off, and smoked that shit. It was all dry and flakey, nasty.”

  Vinny’s laugh filled the cab, pushing a smile onto Sasha’s lips.

  “Is it weird,” Sasha asked, stealing the cigarette from Vinny’s mouth, “having your brother back around?”

  “Sort of. Dez is crashing at my place for a few days until he gets set up. That’ll be weird. I got used to living alone.”

  “You should tell him to beat feet. He treated us like shit when we were younger.”

  “Yeah right. He’d probably kick my ass then take my room.” Vinny smirked, but a hint of fear shined through.

  “Dez does have a mean right hook.” Sasha peered across the cab, frowning.

  “Yeah.”

  Brakes whistled as Vinny steered off the highway and onto their ramp. They merged onto a skinny road, heading up into the hills, and he sighed. “I can’t wait to get out of this truck. My ass is numb.”

  ***

  The sweet smell of sticky bud wafted from the clubhouse, and Sasha closed her eyes, inhaling the scent deeply. Vinny stood beside her, leaning against the front bumper of the semi to join her in staring at the rowdy swarms of people trampling their clubhouse.

  “Weed,” Sasha said, stretching as she walked toward the voices that flowed over loud music.

  Two men burst from the front door, tumbling down the porch steps while locked in a backwoods brawl. Sasha steered her gaze from flying fists and spurts of blood, looking at Vinny. “One in the morning and it’s still jamming. Here, gimme the keys.”

  “Sweet. I gotta take a leak.” Vinny thrust the keys into Sasha’s palm and squeezed his way inside the clubhouse.

  Sasha stepped around the bloody men on the ground and pushed through the growing crowd. She wasn’t even two feet inside when her mother waved her over. Tiny leather skirts and near nonexistent tops surrounded Sasha, yet somehow she managed to walk through the room with her eyes high.

  “It’s all good,” Sasha said, handing the keys to Otis and reaching for her mother’s joint. “Felix says hi.”

  “I doubt that.” Ellen yanked her hand away, blocking Sasha from the roach in her fingers. “Felix hates me. Always said—”

  “You weren’t good enough for his brother from another mother. I know. I’ve heard it.”

  Ellen snickered, passing the joint to Otis.

  “Hey, Sasha, will you give me a hand unloading?” Otis asked between hits.

  “Shit. I just got back, man.”

  Otis held out a tiny smoking stub of a joint. “Please.”

  “All right,” Sasha said, as if she could deny a request from her road captain. “Just give me twenty minutes to get my head on straight.”

  As Sasha walked from the clubhouse, Dez caught her eye. He sat on the small couch, a cute blonde under each arm. Sasha slowed her steps, listening as she passed.

  “My fist
shattered the whole side of this guy’s face. That’s why they gave me seven years, but overcrowding…”

  Sasha stopped short, her glare shooting to Dez. He flinched and she recoiled, then rushed out the door. She almost made it off the porch when Dez called out from behind her. “Sasha!”

  “What!” Sasha spun on her heels, staring straight into Dez’s eyes.

  Dez strolled into the doorway, smirking as he leered down at Sasha. “You know how shit was handled in the old days, when two club members wanted the same position?”

  Chatter lulled to a hush around the compound, and Dez raised a brow. He waited for something, Sasha to argue or maybe throw a punch, but she kept her lips shut and her face blank.

  “They had to slug it out,” Dez said, the words carrying chills. “I say we settle this the old-fashioned way.” He lifted his arms at his side, and his stare locked on her face. “If you can drop my ass, the spot’s yours.”

  Beside the echo of music, a stillness clutched the air. Her gaze never left his, but she could feel a hundred other eyes on her. Without a word, Sasha turned and walked to her little room above the garage.

  ***

  Otis revved the engine of a rumbling semi as Sasha hurried down the stairs. Twenty minutes was not enough. One could only suck down two joints in that time, and she needed far more narcotics to regain normal operational status. Her eyes kept to the gravel as she walked to the idling semi, ears blocking out whispers. She should be fuming. Cartoon smoke should be streaming from her every orifice, but it wasn’t. The fact that she wasn’t angry bothered her more than the humiliation. The piece of her that harbored dignity must have shattered. That, or she was just too numb. Either one would get her eaten alive.

  After climbing back in the truck, and once they left the compound, Sasha turned to face Otis. “So what’s this really about?”

  “What’d you mean?”

  “You don’t need help unloading. There’s a forklift at the warehouse.”