Ashby Holler

by Jamie Zakian

  “Sure. I—”

  “Just stay inside the truck until I come back. Okay?”

  Before Misty could utter a word, Sasha was out the door and across the lot. No one called her name. The path remained clear of any bizarre obstacles. It might’ve been the first time ever that the universe cooperated with her plans. If she opened her door and found an empty room, it’d be a sign of a good day.

  “Damn it.” Sasha stood in the doorway, staring at Dez’s bare thigh wrapped around her blanket. Cuts of muscles gleamed in the thin sliver of daylight. The urge to crawl beside Dez crept up, and she choked it back, loathing the feeling the instant it infected her body. Sasha slapped on a hard glare and stomped toward the bed.

  “Dez. Get up.”

  He groaned, rolling onto his back. A hint of a smile swept his lips even though his eyes stayed shut.

  “Come on, man,” Sasha said, kicking the side of the bed. “I’m beat.”

  Dez lifted the blanket, scooting back. “Get in here. I won’t bite, much.”

  “Stop fucking around.” Sasha picked Dez’s clothes off the floor, dropping them in his lap. “I’ve been on the road for twenty hours. I wanna stretch out in my bed, alone.”

  “Damn.” Dez sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress. “You’re one cranky motherfucker after a run.”

  “Yep. Don’t you have shit to do? There’s three burnt up semi carcasses out front, and Vinny’s house is full of bullet holes. Shouldn’t you guys get on that?”

  “Fuck.” His belt clinked as he jumped up and pulled on his pants. “Yes, ma’am.” Dez slung his shirt over his shoulder, grabbed his boots, and stormed into the blinding rays of sunshine. A minute passed then two, with only a sparrow’s call echoing from the open door.

  Sasha hurried to the window, peeking out. A part of her expected to find catastrophe. Angry bikers with Molotov cocktails, a scorned lover hunkered down on the steps, her mother. However, the horrible things she usually glimpsed when looking out this window remained hidden today. Since tranquility only lasted seconds in this place, Sasha turned and dashed out the door.

  ***

  Dez

  Dez sat behind the wheel of his pickup, searching his jacket pockets for his smokes. Two knifes, a glock, spare clips, but no fucking cigarettes. He reached for the ignition, glancing at the rearview mirror. His jaw inched open, and his throat sealed shut.

  He turned, glaring out the back window as Sasha snuck a blonde chick up the stairs.

  “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Dez said through clenched teeth.

  When a sharp sting pierced his palm, he looked down to see his fingers caught in a fist. He took a breath, but it wouldn’t unravel. A red tinge crept over the world, clouding all thoughts in waves of fury. It was his fist. It wouldn’t unravel. He sat, betrayed by Sasha’s lying mouth and his own body’s refusal to obey the simplest of commands to unlock his goddamn fist.

  Dez swung the fist that refused to unclench, slamming it into the radio. First, the sound of a crash tore him from a rage-filled haze. Then came the pain. Hard plastic dug into his skin, pieces of dashboard raining from his knuckles. He pulled his arm back and the radio fell to the floor, taking the overflowing ashtray with it. His hand finally decided to loosen, and a burning sensation shot through his arm. Warm streams of blood seeped between his fingers, dripping onto the seat.

  He reached for the door, stopped by his reflection in the mirror. It was enough to scare himself. So much violence lay in his eyes, the wrath warping his face into one of a monster. That’s what he’d be if he stepped foot outside his truck, a monster who pulls a girl from her bed to deliver an old-fashioned stomp down in the parking lot, again.

  His brain pounded so hard its thump echoed in his ears. He started the truck. A coffee and a cigarette. If that didn’t calm him, then he’d come back and beat Sasha’s ass.

  ***

  Sasha

  The shower’s roar streamed from the bathroom, and Sasha picked up the phone. She dialed her mother’s line, eyeing Misty’s bag as the phone rang.

  “Sasha?”

  Her mother’s voice cracked, followed by a series of coughs. Sasha wanted to laugh, make some crude remark about old ladies who party like teens, except that old lady would whoop her teen ass.

  “Yeah, it’s me. I’m home.”

  “Why didn’t you come up? The front door’s unlocked.”

  Sasha sat on the floor, leaning against her bed. The truth, that she was busy entertaining a guest, wouldn’t fly, so she spouted out the next best thing. “I’m spent. My bed was calling. I gotta crash out for a few.”

  “Get some rest. We’re having a meeting at noon.”

  “Yeah, all right.” Sasha hung up, looking at the bathroom door. Misty seemed as gentle as the song she hummed while showering. Sasha wanted to trust the strange woman she picked up at a truck stop, but this was 1984 and people were freaks.

  Before her mind could think up a rebuttal, she snatched Misty’s purse and pulled back the zipper. No severed heads or weapons of mass destruction, just tampons, makeup, and a mini pharmacy of pills. She opened a little brown wallet, staring at Misty’s smile on her student ID. A regular person, playing hooky on a regular life. The things that happened on this compound could devour a norm like her. These next few days had to be handled just right.

  Sasha pulled the tape from her answering machine and unplugged the cord from the phone. No calls, in or out. After tossing the receiver and tape under her bed, she stashed the phone’s base in the closet.

  A faucet squeaked, and the shower cut off. Sasha dashed to the center of the room, realized how awkward she looked, then sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Hey, Sasha?” Misty called out from within the bathroom.

  “Yeah.” Sasha jumped to her feet, walking toward the closed door, and it flew open. Beads of water dripped off Misty’s bare shoulders, trapping Sasha’s stare. “Yeah,” she repeated in a low mumble.

  Misty gestured to the towel wrapped around her body. “Do you have a t-shirt I can borrow?”

  “Sure.” Sasha turned to her dresser, pulling out an extra-large black tee. “All my shit’s baggy. I hope you don’t—” Her words bunched in her throat as the towel dropped to the floor. White lace panties with little pink flowers, the only stitch of clothes on the tanned flesh in front of her. A perfect vision of beauty. What a shame, to cover this sight with such plain fabrics.

  “Geeze, stare much?” Misty grinned, taking the shirt from Sasha’s hand.

  “Sorry.” Sasha lowered her gaze, turning her back.

  “It’s like you’ve never seen a naked woman before.”

  “Yeah,” Sasha snickered, opening her little fridge and grabbing a beer. Before its cap could hit the ground, she downed half the bottle.

  “Or maybe you’ve seen too many.”

  Sasha shook her head at the ridiculous notion. One could never see too many naked women. “Nah. I, uh…I’m gonna take a quick shower. There’s some snacks and shit. Help yourself.” Beer in hand, Sasha barged into the bathroom and shut the door.

  ***

  Otis

  Otis rolled over in bed, reaching for Candy. Scratchy sheets grazed his fingertips, not the silky skin he was seeking. He opened his eyes, and sunlight rushed in to stun his brain. A clink of glass echoed from outside his bedroom door, drowned out by Candy’s squeaky voice attempting to sing “Sweet Home Alabama.”

  After a quick trip to the bathroom, Otis followed a light giggle to his kitchen. He stood in the doorway, watching Candy’s ass shake as she mixed pancake batter. A softly spoken “Oopsy” or “Shit” streamed from her mouth every time batter spilled over the brim of her bowl, splatting to the floor. This would be the point where Otis showed the floozy to the door. It should be, except he wanted to lock the door and keep Candy safe inside forever.

  If he strolled behind her and wrapped his arms around her tiny waist, she’d melt like butter in his hands. He could have her right there.
She’d let him bend her little body over the counter and she would like it, but goddamn he was hungry.

  “Candy.”

  She jumped, the cutest yelp slipping from her lips.

  “It’s the perfect name for you.”

  “I know.” Candy smiled, lifting her chin high. “That’s why…” Her grin dropped, carrying her gaze along with it. “I picked it,” she mumbled, turning back to the stove.

  “Sasha named you Candy?” Otis took a step closer, stopping when Candy’s shoulders tensed.

  “I’m sorry. I know I’m not supposed to talk about her.” Candy shrunk down, as if waiting for a strike from behind.

  “Babe.” Otis ran his fingers along Candy’s cheek, drawing her stare. “When we’re alone, you can talk about whatever you want. And you won’t be getting hit ‘round here, but that don’t mean you can mouth off, right.”

  Otis didn’t think it possible, but Candy’s green eyes lit up even brighter.

  “I won’t be mouthing off.” Candy lifted her gaze. When her eyes hit Otis’s face, she dropped her stare. “I mean…I like you.”

  Her pouty lips taunted him, and the strand of crimson hair that fell between her breasts tortured his mind. Fuck pancakes, he needed a piece of Candy.

  Otis slid his hands around Candy’s waist, backing her against the counter. The silky robe that barely covered her curves slipped open. He caressed every inch of skin. His teeth dug into the side of her neck, and she moaned, grinding into him.

  “What are you doing?” Candy whispered, pushing down his boxers.

  “I want some dessert before breakfast.”

  ***

  Sasha

  Sasha walked from the bathroom and into pitch black. “Whoa!”

  “A lot of light shined in through your curtain,” Misty said from somewhere in the darkness of her room. “So I hung a blanket over your window. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “It’s awesome.” Sasha’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she caught the outline of Misty’s body in her bed. She stumbled over piles of clothes, tripped on a boot, and flopped onto the mattress.

  “I thought your truck was messy, but this place takes the cake.” Misty giggled, scooting closer to Sasha.

  “I’m on the road a lot and—”

  “You don’t have to explain yourself. No judgment, just an observation.” Misty rolled onto her stomach and buried her face in the pillow, inhaling deeply. “Your bed smells like a man.”

  Sasha turned onto her side, resisting the urge to run her fingers through the golden hair sprawled across the pillows. “Judgment or observation?”

  Misty propped on her elbow, staring into Sasha’s eyes. “I saw you chase that dude out of here. Is he your old man?”

  “No. Just a friend. He’s in between pads right now, so I told him to crash here while I was away.”

  “You’re a nice person,” Misty said, running her fingers along a strand of Sasha’s hair. “I’ll bet you’re an Aquarius. They’re the most generous of the zodiac.”

  “I don’t know what sign I am.”

  “When’s your birthday?”

  “June sixth.”

  “Oh.” Misty fell to her back, glancing away.

  “Is that bad?”

  “No,” Misty said in a hell yes tone. “You’re a Gemini, the twins.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Gemini’s can be tricky. They’re, like, two different people rolled into one. They always fight themselves ‘cause they never know which version they want to be. The good twin or the bad.”

  “What are you?”

  “I’m a Cancer. We’re very in tune with the Earth. Gentle, delicate souls who seek out connections.”

  “Huh.” Sasha flopped to her back, staring up at the ceiling. “It fits, all that zodiac shit.”

  “So which twin are you right now?”

  Sasha grinned. If there were any part of her that didn’t contain pure evil, she’d never met it. Although, in comparison to what she usually does in this bed with half-naked women, her behavior could be much worse. “The good one, I guess.”

  “Is the bad one gonna come out to collect her payment for the ride?”

  “What?” Sasha raised on her elbow, staring down at Misty’s smile in the low light. “You want me to stick my hand up your skirt?”

  “I’m not wearing a skirt.”

  The words sparked a frenzy in Sasha’s chest, one that kicked her lungs into overdrive. “You don’t have to do that with me.”

  “What if I want to?”

  Misty’s blue eyes fluttered, and Sasha smirked. Her hand flinched, yearning to stroke the freckled skin beside it. “Do you want to?”

  Misty squirmed, and their legs brushed against one another. “I don’t know. I kinda do.”

  Sasha glided her palm to the nape of Misty’s neck, leaning down. Their lips met, and Sasha tasted strawberries. Her hand wandered. A curve of a waist, hip, the silky flesh of the inner thigh, they all withered under her grasp. Every sweet moan that flowed made the blood in her veins pulsate. She ran her tongue down a smooth neck while pulling Misty’s shirt up, slow and tender.

  “I’ve never done this before,” Misty said between pants. “I mean, with a…”

  “Do you want me to stop?” Sasha hooked her nails around Misty’s lacy panties and looked up.

  “No! Don’t stop,” Misty said with a shudder, curling her fingers into Sasha’s hair.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Dez

  Dez stood on the edge of the clubhouse porch. The ground shook when a bulldozer dropped its bucket onto the gravel. He grinned, turning to glare at Sasha’s door.

  “What the fuck is this shit?” Ellen grumbled over the racket of heavy machinery. Dez didn’t bother to look. He could see Ellen’s sour expression clearly in his mind.

  “You know Sasha’s trying to sleep,” Ellen said, stepping in front of him.

  “Is that what she’s trying to do?”

  “What?”

  Ellen tugged on Dez’s arm, and he jerked away, steering his glare to her. “Sasha wanted it done now, so it’s getting done,” he said in a low growl.

  “What happened to your hand?”

  Dez looked at his knuckles, decorated in puffy red scabs, and sneered. “You’re wrong. Nothing can change who a person is inside. Not me, not even you, can undyke Sasha.”

  “Hey!” Ellen glanced around, pushing Dez to the farthest corner of the porch, “I was wasted yesterday. Some of the things I said might’ve—”

  “No.” Dez pushed Ellen’s hands off his chest. “You were actually honest yesterday, maybe for the first time in your life.” His eyes shot back to Sasha’s door before honing in on Ellen. “It doesn’t matter how many times you beat her or how hard I fuck her. If pussy falls in her lap, she’ll take it.”

  Dez pushed past Ellen and stormed into the clubhouse, heading for the bar.

  ***

  Otis

  Otis caught the look on Ellen’s face before he even parked his truck. He knew that expression. Every time she made it, someone he cared about had died.

  He cut off the engine and walked up the clubhouse steps, standing beside her on the porch. Ellen didn’t look over or nod. Not even a flinch when the machine across the lot dumped a tangle of metal into a steel dumpster.

  “Do you know where Candy is?” Ellen asked, glancing at Sasha’s door.

  “In my living room, watching soaps and smoking all my pot. Why?”

  Her eyes drifted to him, her stare losing its sharp edge. “It’s been a strange morning.”

  Otis followed Ellen’s stare through the clubhouse window to Dez, who was pounding shots at the bar. “We still doing this vote?” he asked, hoping to get a fuck no for an answer. Dez already held the look of a man ready to gut a biker, but Ellen could never resist a chance to poke a cage bear.

  Ellen reached into Otis’s jacket pocket and took his pack of smokes.

  “Why not?” she said, knocking a cig
arette loose. “At the least, it’ll be entertaining.”

  After seizing the zippo from Otis’s hand, Ellen strolled inside. He leaned against the threshold, watching Ellen’s hips sway as she strolled across the clubhouse. On her way into the backroom, she snatched the bottle of whiskey from Dez’s grasp and clicked on the radio.

  ***

  Vinny

  Once the bulldozer cleared the lot and the dumpsters were hauled away, Vinny walked his friend to her car. He couldn’t remember her name, but he’d never forget her ass. The perfect size to fit in his hand. Tight yet soft, and so sexy when it bounced in his lap.

  Before Vinny could open the chick’s car door, she shoved her tongue in his mouth. He slid his hands right to that sweet ass, squeezing.

  “Call me anytime,” she said, dragging her nails across his neck.

  If he knew who the fuck she was, beside the brunette with huge tits, he might just do that.

  “For sure,” Vinny said, guiding her into the driver’s seat of a yellow bug.

  He puffed on a joint as she drove from the compound. Right now, he should be feeling pretty damn good. The sun shined on his skin, a calm buzz radiated throughout his body, but an edge clung to his bones.

  In less than five minutes, the club would gather for a meeting. He’d be voted vice president of Ashby Trucking, betray his best friend, humiliate his brother, and he didn’t know why. Power meant nothing to him. The burden of responsibility scared the shit out of him, but he wanted that spot so bad.

  If he were the man with the plan, Sasha would finally see him. He could crawl from beneath her shadow, stand in the light, and she’d notice.

  “Nancy, huh?” Otis asked.

  Vinny turned, and Otis walked off the clubhouse porch.

  “Nancy, that’s right.” Vinny smirked. “I was trying to remember that.”

  “You seen Sasha yet?”

  “Nah.” Vinny walked closer to Otis, peeking up at Sasha’s door. “I’m surprised she didn’t start shootin’ out the window when that dozer scraped dead semi off the ground. She must’ve slept right through it.”