Ashby Holler

by Jamie Zakian

  A man crashed to the ground, and Dez planted his boot on the quivering body, aiming his gun down. Two blasts rang out from the passenger side, and Dez pulled the trigger. Blood splattered the pavement in a spray of pink-laced crimson, splashing his face. He leapt over the headless body and followed Otis around the front.

  Ellen stood over a pool of blood oozing from the dead man at her feet. She shoved empty shells into her pocket then reloaded her shotgun. “Dez, check inside.” Her barrel clicked shut, and she stood behind him as he climbed into the cab.

  “It’s clear,” Dez called out, jumping to the ground.

  “Otis, Kev, check the trailer,” Ellen said, lowering her weapon.

  Dez looked at the stiff convulsing in the dirt, the decal on his jacket blasted to shreds. “We got two. Chewy was worth ten of these biker fucks.”

  “For sure.”

  “It’s empty,” Kev yelled, closing the cargo door. “Just a bunch of chains.” He rested his gun against his shoulder, strolling back toward Ellen. “What should we do with the bodies?”

  “Drag ‘em into the brush. Dez, help him.” Ellen looked at Otis then gestured to the garbage truck in the center of the road. “Park it out of sight. You and Kev get to be the first to take our new semi for a ride.”

  “It’s nice,” Otis said, his hand gliding along the deep blue fender. “A brand new Mack.”

  Dez dragged a body into the tall grass. When he loosened his clutch, dead weight thumped to the ground. He wiped his hands on his jeans, turning toward the road. Beyond Kev, who struggled to haul a bloody corpse, Ellen smiled at him. That leer in her eye made him feel like a canary caught in a cat’s gaze.

  “Fuck,” Kev panted, dropping the body beside Dez. “I need to start lifting.”

  “A few years in the pen will do the trick,” Dez muttered, heading for his pickup.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sasha

  Sasha slid back into her seat, latching her belt buckle. “We really should hit the road.”

  “Yeah.” Vinny struggled with his pants, one arm still bound in a sling. “Fuck this.” He tore the sling off, tossing it behind him.

  “Dude!” Sasha yelled.

  Vinny curled his fingers, shot them straight, then curled them again. “I can’t even do my belt. I need two hands.”

  “Jesus, you’re hopeless.” Sasha reached over and fastened Vinny’s belt. Her stare drifted up. That bump on his throat, smooth cheeks, crystal clear eyes…the same shade of blue that lay in his brother’s glare.

  Sasha lurched back. Her shriveled shell of a conscious threatened to rear its ugly opinion, and she chased it away with the puff of a joint. A quick check in the mirrors and she was back on the freeway, running through seven gears.

  “So,” Sasha said, glancing at Vinny. “Don’t tell anybody about this. Ever.”

  “What? About just now?”

  “Well, yeah,” she droned. “But you know…we should probably just pretend we’ve never had sex.”

  The silence lasted maybe ten seconds, but in Sasha’s mind, it had been two eternities.

  “You’re embarrassed.”

  “God no.” She looked at Vinny, his gaze fixed on the trees whizzing by out his broken window. “I sort of got mixed up with this crazy dude. He’s got a really short temper and—”

  “You fucked my brother.”

  Sasha cringed. ‘Fucked’ and ‘my brother’ were now three words she never wanted to hear in the same sentence again.

  “I, umm—”

  “Damn it, Sasha.” Vinny slouched against the door, his hair blowing in the breeze. “Why him? You said you weren’t into dudes.”

  “I’m not.” Never had Sasha been so happy to have the distraction of the big road before her. “It just sorta happened. This’ll all blow over. I just gotta shake the guy.”

  “That’s gonna be hard to do.” Vinny leaned on his armrest, glaring. “He’s our sergeant.”

  “Yeah.” Sasha rubbed the side of her neck then plucked another joint from the ashtray.

  “You really know how to create a shitstorm, don’t ya?” Vinny snatched the joint from her grasp, inhaling hard. “Sometimes,” he said through a stream of smoke, “I think you do this shit on purpose.”

  Her jaw hinged open, and she fumbled around the cab for her cigarettes since Vinny obviously planned on hogging the doobie. “Why would I do that?”

  “I don’t know. ‘Cause you’re bored.” Vinny lit a cigarette, holding it out.

  Sasha grabbed the cigarette and sat back, twisting the butt between her fingers. It could’ve played out differently. A lot of things could’ve played out differently, if she cared enough to fight the flow.

  When she glanced over, Vinny looked away. That feeling returned to her stomach, nagging, roiling, scorching. How many times could she dick over her best friend? How many times would he forgive her, when she’d never said sorry?

  “Are we cool?” Sasha muttered, the words left hanging in the spacious cab.

  The chain of Vinny’s wallet clinked, and Sasha flinched when he gripped her leg. She looked at Vinny, and he held out a freshly lit joint.

  “What do you think?” he said.

  Sasha glided her hand along Vinny’s arm until her fingers found the joint. She plucked the doobie from his grasp, flashing a half-grin.

  ***

  Dez

  Dez leaned against the threshold of the clubhouse door. Heavy clouds masked the moon’s light, covering the charred remains of their once-remarkable fleet in shades of gray. Otis snored on the couch behind him, stretching farther across the cushions. With Kev sleeping in the cab of the new truck, the spots for crashing dwindled.

  Thunder clapped as Dez walked off the porch. While lighting a cigarette, he looked at Ellen’s huge house on the hill. Wind rustled the curtains in its many windows, wide columns gleaming. She must have five guest rooms in that place, at least. He didn’t know, had never been asked inside.

  His gaze drifted to the dark room above the garage. Sasha had hours of road ahead of her. A shame to let that big, comfy bed of hers go to waste. Dez flicked his cigarette onto the gravel and headed toward Sasha’s room.

  The door squeaked opened, and her scent rushed in, provoking a grin. He searched for the light switch, and with a click, the mess that was Sasha’s room fell under a soft glow.

  Dez kicked piles of clothes aside, walking to Sasha’s dresser. His fingers glided atop leather chokers, an array of brass knuckles, and bottles of perfume. Pictures lined the round mirror, all of Sasha, Vinny, and some redhead chick.

  “What are you doing in here?” Ellen’s bark flowed from the doorway.

  Dez turned, and Ellen stepped into the room.

  “I, uh…” His eyes stuck to bare skin. Ellen’s silky dress hung low on her chest and high on her thighs. “I was gonna crash in here. I didn’t think Sasha would mind.”

  Ellen chuckled, slinking closer. “Really? Wouldn’t mind a strange man in her bed?” Her eyes wandered up to Dez’s face. “You don’t know her very well.”

  She reached for his chest, and he seized her by the wrist. “What are you doing, Ellen?”

  “I want to see what makes you so special. You got the whole tough guy act down pat, but there has to be something more.” Her other hand latched onto his belt, tugging. “Something bigger.”

  Dez pushed Ellen’s hands aside. “Stop fucking around.”

  “Ooh. Watch your tone with me, boy. I’m your president.” Ellen leaned against the dresser, gripping onto Dez’s shirt. “Technically, you should be on your knees.”

  Ellen’s leer trailed Dez as he knelt to the floor. His hands slid up her legs, hiking the stretchy fabric to her waist. He grabbed Ellen by the hips and lifted her atop the dresser, smirking before he leaned forward.

  ***

  Sasha

  Sasha pulled beside the dock and killed the engine. She leaned against the steering wheel, staring at Vinny’s sleeping face. In the gentle glow of the moon�
�s light, a tranquil beauty overtook his rough features. She reached out to him when the kink returned to her stomach. A burning sensation rose in her throat, the dashboard lights blurring. She rubbed her eyes, her fingers trembling. The spin clutching the world twisted faster, pulling Sasha to the side, and she banged her head against the window.

  “Sasha!”

  Vinny gripped her, but she couldn’t focus on his face.

  “Breathe,” he said.

  Her breath came out in shuddering waves, and the wild spin slowed to a wicked sway.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m gonna be sick.” Sasha opened her door, nearly falling out of the cab. Her legs buckled, and she dropped to her knees, dry heaving. Vinny gently rubbed her back, and she looked up, taking a deep breath.

  “You’re scaring me,” Vinny said, his arm encircling her waist.

  “I’m cool.” Slowly, Sasha rose while clinging onto Vinny’s good arm. “Jesus. I feel like I slammed a pint of JD.”

  “Did you?”

  “No.” She chuckled.

  Vinny ran his palm along Sasha’s forehead, ending on her cheek. “You’re all clammy and pale. When was the last time you ate?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on.” He helped Sasha back into the truck. “There’re some chips in the back.”

  She shut her door, and Vinny climbed into the passenger seat. He handed her a bag of chips then searched through a cooler. A moment later, she was holding an ice-cold bottle of Coke.

  Cramps accompanied every swallow, but the fuzz cleared, so she kept eating.

  “Better?”

  “Yeah,” Sasha said between chews. “That was weird. Probably some kinda flu.” She closed her eyes as she drank the cool soda, its heavy syrup coating her gut. She sank into her seat, looking out the window. “I wish I didn’t have to—”

  Lights flashed offshore, and Sasha groaned. “Do this.” She blinked her running lights then rolled down her window. “Stay in the cab. Keep low with your gun on them.”

  “But your uncle—”

  “I don’t think I’m meeting with my uncle.” Sasha grabbed the briefcase, pausing once her hand grazed the truck’s door. For some reason, she wanted to kiss Vinny. Instead, she glowered. “Just be quiet. And stay in the cab, no matter what.”

  Sasha jumped from the truck, slapped on a hard leer, and walked forward. The boat docked, and right on cue men hurried toward her to shove rifles at her chest.

  “Paso a la luz,” a deep voice called from the darkness.

  Sasha did as the man said and inched under the dock lights, lifting her chin.

  “Ha!” A man pushed through the crowd, his dark eyes fixed on Sasha. “It is you, the ghost of Guadalajara.” His long black hair waved in the sea breeze as he stared down at her. “They still call you that to this day. Did you know?”

  Sasha shook her head, scanning the symbols inked on the man’s dark skin. Each tattoo told the story of this man’s rise to leader of the Call of Death, mostly due to her actions with a sniper rifle.

  “You made quite a name for yourself, Sasha Ashby. That’s hard to do in my barrio, especially for a pote de la leche.”

  “Oh.” Sasha dropped her head to hide the scrunch of her face then peered back up at angry eyes. “You must be Tito. Look, what happened with the Llamada de la Muerte—”

  “My crew,” he sneered.

  “Was not personal. I was hired to do a job, and I did it.”

  “It’s funny.” Tito’s large hands landed on Sasha’s shoulders, the slap when his hands collided with her arms masking her flinch. “Women always have the biggest balls.” He released his grasp and leered over his shoulder. “Vámonos.”

  Men scurried away, and the back door of her trailer squeaked open.

  “The case,” Tito said.

  Sasha gawked as the line of people bound by chains loaded into her trailer. “People?” Her voice cracked, the word barely escaping her lips.

  “Si. Twenty Orientals.” Tito cracked open the case, thumbing through the bills. “See the one on the end?”

  Sasha stared at a teenage girl, covered in filth. Her scraps of burlap, meant to be clothes, scraped her bruised thighs as she climbed into the truck.

  “That one’s supposed to be special. Blue eyes. It’s rare in their country.”

  “I, umm—”

  “Don’t worry. We chained them to your trailer nice and tight. They won’t be going nowhere.” Tito placed a key in Sasha’s hand and nodded. “Every six months, I’ll be here at this time.” His cruel glare held firm as he backed away. Then he turned, following his men to the boat. “See you April first, fantasma de Guadalajara.”

  Moonlight glistened off the key in Sasha’s palm, shining, sparkling. Her fingers closed into a tight fist, pressing the key’s sharp edges into her skin. A thin piece of metal, yet it had the power to trap twenty people and scrape her soul at the same time. To climb back into that truck and drive away would take a shit-ton of ignorance, which was in no short supply. Sasha dropped her eyes to the dirt, walking to the rig.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dez

  Ellen walked out of the room, closing the door, and Dez dropped his head into his hands. “Stupid, weak bastard,” he sputtered. Half his life had been wasted on fantasies of Ellen. What it might be like to have her. How great that dirty tongue of hers must feel on flesh. He never thought it would leave him so hollow.

  He scanned the mounds of clothes, his somewhere among them. When spotting his jeans, he leaned forward and pulled them close. He fished through the pockets until he found a pack of smokes and a zippo.

  As the flow of nicotine surged though his veins, he settled back against the dresser. Curtains blew in front of an open window, exposing the darkness beyond. The sky looked empty, cold, bleak. It never looked that way when he stared up at it with Sasha.

  “Fuck! Sasha.”

  It didn’t happen. He didn’t just fuck Sasha’s mother, in Sasha’s room. At least, he’d never admit to it. Anyone who said otherwise would end up with a mouthful of broken teeth, even if that person was Ellen.

  Dez gathered the rest of his clothes, walked into the bathroom, and turned on the shower. His eyelids fought to stay open. It felt like days since he’d last slept, but he couldn’t crawl into Sasha’s bed smelling like two kinds of pussy.

  After a quick scrub down, his head hit the pillow. One big lungful of Sasha’s scent and the world clicked off.

  ***

  Sasha

  “People!” Vinny exclaimed. “Did you know about this?”

  Sasha gripped the steering wheel harder, mashing down on the gas pedal. “No. I thought we were getting coke or maybe heroin, but…Jesus.”

  Vinny looked behind him, unable to see beyond the sleeper cab. “What kind of people?”

  “I don’t know. They were Chinese or some shit. Twenty women and children.”

  “Live cargo. You know what that means? As soon as we get back, Ellen’s gonna send us out to…where do they go?”

  “Not the warehouse.” Sasha shook her head, the motor roaring as she pushed a hundred.

  “You better ease off,” Vinny said, checking his side mirror. “We don’t wanna get pinched with this load.”

  Sasha lifted her boot from the gas pedal, and the engine wound down along with the race of trees but not the pound in her temples.

  Vinny lit two cigarettes, then passed one to her. “What do you think will happen to them?”

  “I don’t wanna think about that. My stomach’s already twisting.”

  “Still? Pull over.”

  “Why?” Sasha glanced at Vinny, smirking. “What are you gonna do to me now?”

  Vinny smiled, popping a painkiller in his mouth. “I wanna drive. You can sit back and chill for a while.”

  “Awesome.” Sasha parked on the side of the road, hopping over Vinny’s legs as he slid into the driver’s seat. The truck rolled forward, and she sank back. A cool breeze tickled h
er skin, lulling her eyes to a close. She leaned against the broken window, breathing in the scent of wisteria and honeysuckle.

  “I want you to stay on the compound.” Sasha closed the flaps of her jacket, wriggling into the seat. “Until this shit with Satan’s Crew simmers down.”

  “In your room?”

  Sasha peered over, attempting a scowl that ended in a smirk. “No. In your old room.”

  Vinny answered, but his words fell under the thump of tires. The cab’s gentle rock stole Sasha’s senses, carrying her body into its swing.

  ***

  Ellen

  Ellen sprawled atop her king-sized mattress, satin sheets caressing her skin. She looked at the clock on her nightstand and grinned.

  “Four a.m., closing time.”

  She rolled onto her stomach and reached for the phone. Her finger spun the rotary, soft clicks singing in her ear. When the phone rang, she fought to suppress a giggle. Then Dante’s voice flowed through the receiver, sparking a giddy blaze inside her chest.

  “Dante, are you waiting up for that shipment?”

  “Fuck!” Dante’s shout streamed through the phone. “My chalkboard. You dirty cunt.”

  “Language, sweetie.” A smile spanned Ellen’s lips. She could almost see the anger puffing his tanned face. “I took your route and the semi. You won’t be needing them anymore anyway. When my new rig shows up to make a delivery in a few hours, with my man behind the wheel, your brother is going to be so disappointed in you.”

  “One of these days, I’m gonna cut up that pretty face of yours,” Dante said in a near growl. “That way, everyone can see you for what you really are.”

  “You say the sweetest things. Have a good night, Dante.” Ellen hung up the phone, swinging her feet to the floor. After strolling to her closet, she laid a halter-top and a pair of jeans on her bed. She glanced back at the nightstand and the small pile of white powder beside a little silver straw.