Ashby Holler

by Jamie Zakian

  “Gotta stay on the ball.” Ellen hurried forward, cutting out two thick lines. “Gonna be a long day.”

  Her hair fell in a circle around her face as she bent, like a silky cloak to hide her depraved deed. Tiny silvery granules disappeared as she snorted, pumping life into her tired veins. Her head snapped up, and she exhaled before heading back down to take another round.

  As she leaned against the nightstand, her palm fell atop a large hunting knife. The blade slid from its sheath so easy, its weight a comfort in her hand. The sight of her glare reflected in the smooth metal shocked her. So harsh, bloodshot, wired. Those eyes weren’t the ones she remembered, wrinkled and steeped in hate.

  Ellen thrust the knife back into its sheath, turning to dress.

  ***

  Sasha

  Sasha could hear Vinny fidgeting around the cab of the semi and the light hum of tires rubbing road, but she held her eyes shut.

  “You alive?” Vinny asked, nudging Sasha’s arm.

  “No,” she said, swatting his hand away. A hint of daylight snuck in, and she yanked her jacket over her face. “Fuck. It’s morning, again.”

  “We’ll be home in ten minutes.”

  “Good. I can’t wait to stretch my,” her knees cracked as she uncurled from the seat, “ah, my legs. God.”

  Vinny’s chuckle pulled Sasha’s leer.

  “You look better,” he said, glancing between her and the road. “Your color, at least.”

  Sasha stuck her middle finger in the air, moving it in front of Vinny’s eyes.

  “Yeah, yeah.” He shoved her hand back. “By the way, you suck at ridin’ shotgun. I ran out of smokes two hours ago.”

  “You should’ve woke me, stupid.” Sasha pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, lighting one for Vinny then herself. “That’s, like, an emergency.”

  “Ahh.” Smoke flowed from Vinny’s mouth, circling the air before it zoomed out the window. “I hope we get a few hours turnaround. I’m wiped.”

  “I can take the load myself,” Sasha said, leaning against her armrest. “There’re twelve gauges of backup under the seat.”

  “We have a jacked shipment of slave people going God knows where, and you think you’re ridin’ solo. Ha!” Vinny shook his head, puffing on his cigarette.

  “See,” Sasha bobbed her finger his way, “and I was trying to be nice, but fuck you, bro. You can suffer.” Her words came out between chuckles, and Vinny laughed.

  Air whooshed from the brakes, the truck rounded a sharp bend, and sunlight shimmered off their dented gate.

  “Home sweet home,” Vinny said, turning onto the compound. He pulled past the blackened heaps of twisted metal, parking across from the garage.

  Sasha cracked open her door, pausing at the sight of her mother. A long breath slowed the pound of her heart as she closed her eyes. The darkness provided a temporary release. Orders weren’t barked in her face when Sasha was hidden behind closed eyes; friends weren’t killed while Sasha lingered in the depths of her mind. Just memories of soft skin, red hair, and sweet giggles. Her door flew open, but she stayed in a daydream of wandering fingertips.

  “What are you doing?” her mother damn near barked, blowing her happy thoughts to bits.

  Sasha looked to the driver’s seat. It was empty. Her head rolled to her open door and right into her mother’s irritated glare. “Where’d Vinny go?”

  “Up to the house. You’ve been sitting here for five minutes. Are you on something?”

  “There are people chained in the back of this truck.”

  “Really, Sasha? You’ve chosen now to sprout a conscience?”

  A jolt of surprise nearly robbed the air from Sasha’s lungs, mostly because she had no idea her mother even knew what a conscience was. “You put me in so much danger.” Sasha narrowed her stare as she climbed out of the truck. “Do you even know who met me at the dock? The Call of Death. I spent all of last summer killing those motherfuckers for Felix.”

  A laugh, that’s what her mother offered. “Looks like your shit’s starting to pile up. Oh relax, this was a one-time thing.”

  “No, it’s not. They expect me to be there every six months for the same kind of pickup.” Sasha anticipated shock, disbelief, maybe a fraction of concern, but all she saw were money signs in her mother’s eyes.

  “Guess you got your new route after all,” Sasha said, leaning against the slightly melted fender of the truck. “Do I even want to know who our clients are?”

  Pebbles crunched under Ellen’s fidgety boot, her stern eyes low. “The Lazzari Family, out of New York.”

  “That’s Italian mafia!”

  “Yeah,” Ellen said, as if it were no big deal.

  “We don’t go that far east. You said it’s trouble.”

  “I’m mending fences, expanding our horizons.”

  “Do our horizons include your biker boy-toy?” That one got a reaction. Watching her mother’s feathers ruffle left such a warmth in Sasha’s chest until that glare returned with a vengeance.

  “Have you been following me?” Ellen asked through gritted teeth.

  “Maybe.”

  Ellen jabbed Sasha’s chest, and Sasha scurried back.

  “You never could mind your own fucking business, girl.”

  “You are my business.” The sudden growth of backbone surprised Sasha more than her mother, who gasped. This temporary lapse of courage would fade, but while it was here Sasha planned on rolling with it. “This club, my life. It’s all tied to you.”

  “That’s how you knew where their warehouse was,” Ellen said with wide eyes. “You followed me.”

  Sasha looked away. She should’ve seen this coming. A person could only shove so many skeletons into a closet they’re hiding in before pieces got loose.

  “This is so typical of you,” Ellen said in a sneer. “Did you see your mommy doing some naughty things and lash out?”

  “Stop it.” Sasha shrank down, eyeing the steps that led to her room.

  “There’s that childish temper again. You never think, you just do. That’s the reason we’re trafficking people. It’s the consequence of your firebomb escapade.”

  A shiver ran through Sasha. She crossed her arms, held tightly onto her sides, but she couldn’t shake the chill left by the truth of her mother’s words.

  “You know,” Ellen said softly, almost in sorrow, “I’m getting really sick of waiting for you to grow the fuck up.” She backed away, gesturing to the garage. “Get some rest. You’re on the road again first thing tomorrow. And take a shower; you look like shit.”

  Sasha stood under warm rays of sun, a fire raging deep inside her gut. She looked away from her mother, who was strolling toward the clubhouse, and stared at the long white trailer of the truck beside her. She thought about the starving, sweltering people locked within breathing stale air and all the bullshit that led to this end. It wasn’t the right path. This wasn’t the club’s vision, her vision.

  Sasha turned away from the gentle breeze, the chirp of birds, things you couldn’t experience while trapped inside a tractor trailer, and hurried up her stairs.

  ***

  Vinny

  Vinny leaned against a marble column of the big house and watched Sasha cower under Ellen’s glare. The door opened behind him, and Otis stepped to the edge of the porch.

  “What’s all this?” Otis asked, pointing to the two women far across the lot.

  “Sasha never backs down,” Vinny said, keeping his gaze straight ahead. “Six-foot bikers, Mexican gangsters, but she crumbles with Ellen. I don’t get it.”

  Otis snickered. “What would you do if Ellen got in your face like that, poking her finger at your chest?”

  Vinny sank against the wide pillar. If Ellen ever barked at him like that, he knew exactly what he’d do. He’d run and hide behind Sasha.

  “That’s her president and mother.” Otis turned toward Vinny, tapping an unlit cigarette on his zippo. “She’s extra hard on Sasha. She has to be. It
’s how you mold a leader.”

  “What?”

  “Sasha’s gonna have to run all this one day, but Ellen can’t just give it to her. Sasha has to work her way up, know every aspect of the club. She has so much potential.” Otis lit his cigarette, nodding to the open front door. “The girls are in there cooking breakfast. You should grab some grub and hit the sack.”

  Vinny searched for Sasha beyond the rocky hill but only found an empty lot. So bare, this compound, without her smile to fill it. He considered giving chase, until the scent of bacon encircled him like a lasso. The aroma and the sounds of muffled laughter and low music beckoned him. He tore his gaze from Sasha’s little room above the garage, walking inside the big house.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sasha

  Sasha had to do a double take. The sight of Dez crashed out in her bed, naked, didn’t sink in the first time. Quietly, she shut her door and crept inside. Sun spilled through the side of her shaded window, lighting the muscles hidden under Dez’s bright ink. Flames, skulls, barbed wire. His body, a skin canvas of wicked art.

  While backing away, she slinked out of her jacket and turned toward the bathroom.

  “Sasha?”

  Her light steps halted. She peeked over her shoulder as Dez wormed under the covers.

  “Hey,” Sasha said. A smile snuck onto her lips, and she tried so hard to hold it back that it turned to a frown.

  “I’m sorry.” Dez sat up, gesturing to the bed. “Your door was unlocked and I—”

  “It’s cool. You can crash here as long as you need to.” Sasha turned away, rolling her eyes. That just slipped out. She didn’t want him crashing in her room. Her gaze drifted back to Dez’s solid chest, those rippling abs.

  “I’m gonna shower,” Sasha said, hurrying into the bathroom.

  After shutting the door and blasting the water, Sasha slumped against the wall. “What the fuck was that?” she mumbled, ripping off her clothes.

  Halfway through the shampoo cycle, it hit her. She hadn’t tossed Dez out on his ass because she wanted to crawl in bed next to him. She actually needed his strong arms to hold her defeated body and strengthen her will.

  “Oh God,” Sasha groaned under the rush of flowing water.

  In near record time, she shaved, washed, and dressed. Then she stood there, in front of the bathroom door, staring at the brass knob. Droplets tumbled from her tangled hair, splashing her toes, but she just stared. The lump in her throat wouldn’t budge. Grumbles, huffs, nothing unclogged her airways.

  Two failed attempts and a slap on the forehead later, Sasha yanked the door open. Her tight shoulders sagged, lips bunching when finding an empty room. Relief rushed in, overshadowing the disappointment and bringing her back to the usual hollow shell.

  She grabbed her brush and sat on the edge of her bed. The door squeaked open, and Dez walked in, holding a plate of food.

  “Hungry?” he asked, flashing a short stack of pancakes.

  “Dude!” The brush slipped from Sasha’s hand as she jumped up. She wrapped two pieces of sausage in a pancake then took a big bite. “This is, like, the best ever,” she said between chomps.

  “You eat like an animal.”

  Sasha closed her mouth, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. “Sorry.” This time, she finished chewing then swallowed hard. “It’s just so good.”

  Dez held out the plate, and Sasha snatched it from his hand, dropping back onto the bed.

  “Where’s Vinny?” Dez asked, peering out the window.

  “He’s crashing in his old room, at the big house. Didn’t you see him when you went up there?”

  “I didn’t go up there. Some chick put that in my hand when I was having a smoke.”

  “Probably Lacy,” Sasha said, crossing her legs to balance the plate in her lap. “She’s always here. Carts the girls around, cooks like a goddess.”

  “Vinny has a room in Ellen’s house?”

  “Yeah. He lived here for a while.” Sasha nibbled on a piece of bacon, gazing up at Dez as he stared out the window. “After you went away and your mom split, he was on his own. We took him in before the state could get him. Didn’t he tell you any of this?”

  Dez shook his head, eyes low.

  “What do you guys talk about?” Sasha asked, wiping her hands on her pants. “When you’re alone.”

  “I don’t know,” Dez said, turning away from the window. “Rebuilding motors and shit.”

  She snickered, plopping the half-eaten plate on her nightstand. “Dudes are ridiculous.”

  “Did he graduate?”

  “No.” Sasha walked into the bathroom, grabbing her toothbrush. “I couldn’t go back to school after…you know, with my shit all busted up, and Vinny didn’t want to go without me. We just hung out here, doing chores until we made prospect. Then the chores got dirtier.”

  Sasha gazed at Dez’s reflection in the mirror while brushing her teeth. He looked so sad. All these years, he never once crossed her mind. His name was unspoken in the club, but he’d been thinking about them.

  “Sasha. I’m sor—”

  “No!” She rinsed her mouth, walking from the bathroom. “I don’t hold a grudge about that day. You guys just did what you were told. I get that now.”

  “You shouldn’t have to get that. You and my brother should’ve finished high school, went to prom together, and got hitched.”

  “What crazy world are you living in? That was never gonna be my life or his.” Sasha crept closer, but the levels of rage in Dez’s stare held her back. “You couldn’t have changed much, if you were here.” She reached for his hand, just as he stomped toward the door. “Where are you going?”

  Dez flung open the door, stopping in the threshold. “I’m supposed to work up a strike plan with Ellen. Half of Satan’s Crew is combing the roads for your truck. We’re gonna hit ‘em hard, draw ‘em back so you can move out tomorrow morning.”

  “Dez…”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll find somewhere else to sleep.”

  Glares of sunlight veiled the sour look on Dez’s face as he stepped outside, slamming the door behind him. Sasha stood in the middle of the room and shrugged. “Dudes. Are. Ridiculous.”

  Sleep could take her where she stood, and she’d let it. A long sigh flowed from her chest as she stretched, falling backward onto her bed. Two seconds of fluffy pillows. That was all it took to root her in place.

  ***

  Nails tore at Sasha’s insides. A tiny hand pressed on her stomach from the inside, raising her skin as little fingers ripped from within.

  Sasha sat up in bed, gasping. She yanked up her shirt, running her palm along her stomach. Smooth skin, ripples of muscle, no hand.

  Relief only lasted seconds, replaced by a burn that rose from her chest and settled in the back of her throat. She bolted from the bed and slid across the bathroom floor, lifting the toilet’s lid just in time for her breakfast to come back up. Her shaky hands clutched porcelain as she pushed herself off the floor.

  Sasha leaned over the sink, flipping on the faucet. The rush of flowing water pulled her stare, calmed the shudder of bones, and soothed her mind. She splashed her face then peered into the mirror.

  “Uh, gross.” Dark circles puffed the skin under her eyes, refusing to fade despite her many attempts to rub them away. She shut off the water, grabbed a towel, and walked out of the bathroom. The whirl in her stomach slowed, strength returning to her limbs with every step. A few hits from that doobie on the nightstand and her head would be on straight.

  Before Sasha’s fingers could graze the tightly wrapped paper, a red light caught her eye. Somewhere beneath the clutter of empty cigarette packs, dusty bandanas, and unopened mail, a light blinked from an unseen answering machine. Sasha reached for the mess, doubled back for the joint, lit it, and then dove in to find her lost machine.

  Two quick puffs and a press of a button later, soft clicks filled the room before the message played. “Hey, Sasha. It’s Candy…I heard about
the fire and stuff. I just wanted to hear your voice, make sure you’re okay. Sorry I bothered you.” And with a click, the hum of a tape rewinding replaced Candy’s silky voice.

  Sasha stared at the phone, smoke rolling from her mouth. Candy. Her first love and constant source of misery. She’d taken two beatings and a million crooked glares for that girl, but the damn feelings, which she told herself not to feel, only grew stronger.

  Twice Sasha reached for the phone, her fingers never making it to the receiver. She took another hit, grumbling through the exhale.

  “Fuck it,” she said, picking up the phone.

  The now-tiny roach burned away in the ashtray as Sasha punched buttons. When the line rang, her throat sealed closed. She moved the receiver away from her ear, slowly lowering it toward its base when Candy answered.

  Sasha thrust the phone to her head, clunking plastic to skull. “Hey, Candy.”

  “Oh, Sasha! God, I was so worried. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m good. Busy.”

  “The whole town is talking about the fire and the shootings. I just, like, wish I could see you.”

  “You’re not banned. You can stop by any time you want.” Silence lingered, and Sasha searched the mountain of cigarette packs for a fresh one. Something told her she’d need a smoke for what was about to come streaming through the phone. “If you don’t want to come around anymore—”

  “No! I do,” Candy said, pausing for the inevitable but. “But Otis said I should lay low for a while, that things aren’t safe around the clubhouse right now.”

  “Otis?” Sasha froze, her lighter inches from the unlit cigarette in her mouth. “So, what? Are you guys, like, a thing now?” After another bout of piercing silence, she lit her cigarette and drew in the thick smoke. “Hello?”

  “Yeah. We’re sorta, kinda together. He’s really sweet to me. Sasha—”

  “Don’t.” Sasha shook her head, which did nothing to soothe the sting left by betrayal. “It’s cool.” The words came out through clenched teeth but thankfully sounded casual, at least in her head. “And Otis is right. It’s probably not a good time to chill here.” She hopped up, pacing within the cord’s limit. “We’ll have another party soon. I’ll just see you then. Later.”