by Jamie Zakian
Dante shifted his gaze to Sasha, who nodded, then looked back at Jeri. “I guess I am. It was nice meeting ya, sweetie.”
“I’ll be right back,” Sasha said, ushering Dante toward the foyer. “Gonna walk him out.”
Sasha pushed Dante out the front door and down the porch steps.
“What’s up, little girl?” Dante asked, shrugging out of Sasha’s grasp.
“You’re done in there. I just gotta grab some shit, kiss my boy goodbye, and we’re hitting the road.” She stopped beside the semi, pointing at the passenger door. “You can wait in the cab.”
“But—”
Her arm stretched farther, finger growing stiffer. Dante slumped, trudging toward the truck, and Sasha headed for the clubhouse.
Chapter Sixteen
The secret compartment in the top drawer looked exactly the same to Sasha. Her mother’s little black book, filled with the old pickup and drop-off locations in code, sat in the exact same spot. Pictures, notes, pills and dried up weed. It wasn’t any different than the other millions of times she’d snooped in her mother’s hiding spot over the years. Which meant she didn’t know how to find her mother. She had nothing to go on. This entire time, she honestly thought she’d find a letter in the secret spot she shared with her mother. At the very least she expected a post-it, or a motherfucking clue.
A rolling fit of rage spread out to claw every muscle in Sasha’s body. She couldn’t take the emptiness, not from this drawer or her weak chest. A cry burst from her lips. She ripped the drawer from the desk and flung it against the wall.
Boots thumped outside the doorway of the backroom, right before Dez walked through the threshold. He looked at the desk drawer in pieces on the floor, then at Sasha fighting to control the quake of her limbs.
“Are you clean?” he asked, narrowing his gaze.
“Of heroin, or disease?”
Dez shrank down. His nose scrunched, as if the foulest odor just wafted up his nostrils.
“Yes, Dez. I’m clean.” She stepped out from behind the desk, shaking off her jitters. “How do you even know about that?”
“Enzo and Otis used to call every day, but a few days ago the calls stopped.”
Sasha all but melted at the softness in Dez’s gaze. His frosty blue eyes, strong arms drew her closer. “This shit with my mom has everyone fucked up.”
“I bet.” Dez moved toward Sasha, falling into the shadows of the dark room. “It must be crazy for you. I’m sorry I haven’t been…” He slid his fingers along Sasha’s hand, up her arm, to her neck.
Air rushed from Sasha’s lungs, replaced by a fiery burn. Before she could think, their mouths were gliding atop one another. His kiss felt wrong, but she still ran her hands up his chest.
Dez backed Sasha against the desk, clutched onto her hips. A stabbing ache pierced her heart. Vinny’s face flashed through her mind. It was him she thought about, his hands she wanted on her body. She pushed Dez away, shook her head.
“Don’t,” she said, to both herself and Dez.
“What?”
“If I fuck you in the backroom of our clubhouse, we’ll spiral back into each other. But we want different things. We don’t fit right. You’ll end up miserable, and I’ll end up…” Sasha couldn’t say it. She didn’t want to be a junkie, couldn’t stomach people thinking of her in that way.
Dez grinned, caressed Sasha’s cheek as if the scars weren’t thumping beneath his fingertips. “You’d end up running off with a stripper.”
A giggle slipped from Sasha’s lips. It wasn’t funny, but it was either laugh or cry, and Dez had already caught her with tears. Her time with Dez really was over. It was a bittersweet sorrow, to let each other go after all the years of clinging. They could finally have a chance at happiness; it was just sad they couldn’t find it together.
“Dez?” Sasha looked up into his eyes. The man’s defenses were down, which was a rare occasion. If ever there were a time to get her son back, it was now. “I wish you’d consider moving back to New York. You and Tyler can have the penthouse. You can bring Jeri if you want.”
“I don’t—”
“If you don’t like that place, I’ll buy y’all another pad. In any borough.” She latched onto Dez’s hand. “He needs to be with family. You both do.”
“I don’t know.” Dez stared off into the corner, then stood up straight. “What’s that?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“No. For real.”
Sasha followed Dez’s pointed finger to the now broken drawer. Taped to the underside of the cracked wood was a folded piece of paper with Sasha’s name on it.
“I knew it.” Sasha dropped to her knees and tore the letter from the drawer. A giddy sensation struck her in the chest at the sight of her mother’s sharp handwriting.
“What does it say?” Dez asked, kneeling in front of Sasha.
It didn’t say anything, but it meant everything. “It’s coordinates,” she said. “Somewhere in Mexico.”
“Tyler.” Jeri’s panicky voice called out from afar.
By the time Sasha could jump to her feet, Dez was halfway across the clubhouse. She ran outside, sprinting after Dez up the hill.
“He’s not in his room,” Jeri said, meeting Dez in the middle of the lot. “And he didn’t answer when I called for him.”
“Dante,” Sasha said, running to her truck. She looked inside, mocked by an empty cab. “Son of a bitch!”
“No,” Dez muttered, running his hands through his long hair. “Tyler,” he shouted into the night sky.
“I’m up here.”
They all looked up at the big house to see Tyler’s little head in the attic window. The kid smiled, then waved, and Sasha wanted to wring his neck.
“What are you doing up there?” Dez yelled, his voice trembling.
“Helping grandpa find my missing grandma’s ring,” Tyler said, as if that should be common knowledge to every person on planet Earth.
“Get downstairs, now,” Dez damn near growled, and Tyler’s wide eyes backed into the shadows of the window.
“I’m sorry,” Jeri said, hurrying after Dez as he stormed toward the house. “I didn’t know Dante came back into the house.”
“It’s not your fault,” Sasha said, surprising Dez so much he almost tripped up the porch steps. “Dante’s a sneaky fucker.”
Tyler ran out the front door, and Dez scooped him up.
“Dante,” Dez growled as the man walked out of the house.
“I’m going.” Dante hurried past Sasha without a glance and climbed into the semi.
“Sorry,” Tyler said, kicking his feet until Dez put him down. “He said it was important.”
Sasha stepped onto the porch, stood in front of Tyler. “Don’t punish him. It was Dante’s fault.”
“You gonna punish Dante?” Dez asked with that cute, devious gleam in his eyes.
“Fuck yeah. Have been this whole time.”
“Good.”
Sasha almost reached for Dez but forced her hands to remain at her sides. “Think about what I said, about New York.”
“Call me when you get done with this crazy shit.” Dez flashed a smile, which jacked up the beat of Sasha’s broken heart pieces.
“You’re leaving?” Tyler asked. His little voice, crammed with sorrow, shattered Sasha’s broken heart pieces to dust.
“Yeah.” Sasha knelt down, rubbing the sides of Tyler’s arms. “I’m really gonna miss you, little man.”
“You’ll come back, take me to New York, right?”
“I’m working on it.” Sasha pulled Tyler close, hugging him tight. “Your mama gets shit done,” she whispered, kissing her boy on the cheek.
Tyler’s bright smile etched into Sasha’s mind, carved away all the painful memories that lingered within. She hugged him one more time, landing another kiss. Her stomach dropped as she rose to her feet. She’d insert herself right in the middle of this happy family, bring Vinny along for the ride instead of Dan
te, if she didn’t have a mother to punch in the face and drag home.
Jeri sprung forward, and Sasha flinched when the woman hugged her. “It was nice to meet you, Sasha.”
Sasha wrapped her arms around Jeri, slid her hand to the arch of the woman’s back. She pulled Jeri closer until their chests pressed together. “It was nice meeting you too, doll.”
A deep shade of pink rushed in to claim Jeri’s cheeks, and Sasha grinned as she backed away. She dipped her head to Dez, blew a kiss to Tyler, and headed for her truck.
***
After stopping to mail a postcard sealed inside an envelope to accommodate the polaroid of her and Tyler, Sasha was back on the highway. She glanced at the passenger seat, catching a stray grin in the passing streetlights. The smile on Dante’s lips seemed unnatural, like blue bread. She preferred a frown on that asshole’s face.
“I can’t take you anywhere,” she said, glaring at Dante.
“I could’ve laid the ape out on three separate occasions. My conduct was quite impressive. I’m proud of myself.”
To keep from snickering at the serious tone in Dante’s voice, Sasha glowered. “You got the kid in trouble.”
“Fuck. Really?”
Now Dante frowned, which brought a warmth to Sasha’s chest. The man should be miserable. Dante and his stupid sperm was the catalyst that kick-started the nightmarish reality called Sasha’s life.
“Yeah, really. You made him sneak off, got everybody worked up, and now he’s punished. You fucking suck.”
Dante shifted in his seat, jaw clenching. “Dez fucking sucks. That animal has no business rearing a child.”
The tremble of Dante’s voice took Sasha by surprise. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have sworn the guy actually gave a fuck.
“What’d you really do?” Sasha asked, glancing at Dante. “In the attic?”
Dante’s leather jacket crinkled as he pulled a small felt box from his inside pocket. “It’s Ellen’s wedding rings.” He flipped the top open. A huge diamond shimmered in the dashboard lights, resting above a white gold band with black tribal marks etched into its surface. “Our wedding.” Dante tugged at the chain around his neck, pulled out a matching band.
That psycho of a man did have a heart. The thought was downright terrifying, and a bit nauseating. A man with no soul was predictable, craved only death and destruction. It was the assholes that were chock-full of emotions who were really dangerous. Those guys broke every rule, burned every bridge to chase their depraved desires.
Sasha shrank down in her seat, leaned away from Dante. That motherfucker was going to get her killed. She could feel it in her bones.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Dante asked, staring at Sasha like a junkie waiting for a fix.
“Yeah.” For a split-second, Sasha considered shooting Dante in the head and kicking his corpse onto the side of the highway. Instead, she handed him the piece of paper her mother left for her. Riding with Satan was better than riding solo. Somebody had to roll the joints.
“You’re slacking,” Sasha said, tossing a bag of weed into Dante’s lap.
Dante went straight to work, battling to break up the tight buds in the bouncy truck. The entire time he twisted the bone, his eyes stayed on the scribbles of her mother’s handwriting. “It’s coordinates. Where we headed?”
The we part of Dante’s statement made Sasha cringe. “Mexico,” she grumbled, glaring at the asshole who was getting harder to hate in the passenger seat.
“Why don’t you let me drive for a bit?”
“Ha!” Sasha clutched onto the steering wheel, almost hugged it. This was her father’s truck, her real father, and she wasn’t going to let her wannabe dad drive it off a bridge. “Wield my rig,” she muttered beneath her breath. “Do you even have a license?”
“No,” Dante said, sneering, as if he’d been asked to solve a simple math equation. “Do you?”
Sasha sat up straight. She did have a driver’s license, when she was Sasha Ashby. Sasha Lazzari never had a chance to get one before she died. And now that she was nobody, government issued IDs didn’t much matter.
“Well, no,” Sasha said, holding her chin high. “I don’t need a license. I’m dead.”
Dante handed Sasha a lit joint, clutching onto the paper with only one line of numbers on it.
“I’m gonna need that back,” Sasha said, struck by the possessive glare in Dante’s eyes. “Eventually.”
“I can’t believe she took off on me.”
“What’d you do?”
“What makes you think I did anything?”
Sasha narrowed her stare, veering it to Dante.
“Ellen caught me fucking a redhead, in our bed.”
A snicker pushed its way to near escape, but Sasha held it back. It must be true what they say about apples not falling far from trees. “Redheads are hard to resist.”
“Right,” Dante said, turning to face Sasha. “Ellen always has to have a shit-load of hot chicks around, but God forbid if you touch any of ‘em.”
Dante had no idea. He’d just described Sasha’s entire childhood. “Did my mother ever—” She stopped herself. A stupid question, one she really didn’t want to know the answer to, almost tumbled from her dumb mouth. If lady luck loved her, her words would be lost under the thump of tires on pavement.
“You want to know if your mom likes the ladies?” Dante looked at Sasha with only sincerity, and her throat loosened enough to allow for a gulp. “Not the way you do, little girl. That doesn’t make you different. Some people just like both.”
“I don’t like both.” A knot, one Sasha hadn’t even known was tied, unraveled in her chest. She’d never been honest before, with anybody. The sense of freedom, of knowing her own self was better than any drug she could slam into her veins. “I’m only attracted to women.”
“What about your trucker brothers?”
The tone in Dante’s voice reflected only curiosity. There would be no judgement in the cab of this truck. Sasha could speak her mind, process her thoughts out loud, maybe gain a grasp on who she really was, and something told her Dante would understand.
“It’s different with them. I’ve been with Vinny for…ever. Being with him is like being with myself, safe, fun. And Dez…” Sasha hit the roach in her tight clutch, its red-hot tip burning her fingers. “Dez is the perfect man. He’s so rough but still sensitive. He has morals and actually stands by them. I never really wanted to be with him.” She squirmed in her seat, in her own skin. “I wanted to be him.”
“You shouldn’t want to be other people.” Dante leaned on his armrest, moving close enough for Sasha to feel his electric vibe. “You’re fucking awesome just the way you are.”
The nicest thing anyone had ever said to Sasha had come from the person she despised most. It kind of drained the joy from the experience.
“Coming from you,” Sasha said, glancing at Dante. “That might be an insult.” She pointed at the center console, and the bag of weed she knew was lost somewhere within it. “I think we need to have a serious conversation on joint etiquettes.”
Chapter Seventeen
Vinny
Twenty-four hours had passed since Vinny walked through the front door of Fat Tonys. The girls were long gone, his buddies had crashed out around the spacious office, but a restless jitter ran through Vinny, keeping him wide-awake.
As quiet as a coked-out person could be, he opened the door of the backroom and slipped into the hallway. The staff buzzed around like busy bees. It was strange, like deja vu. The same people scurried across the same freshly vacuumed carpet, setting the same tables. It was almost as though an entire day hadn’t been lost to a snow-blinded haze.
“Mr. Archer,” the hostess said, slinking out from behind her podium.
Vinny had never noticed before, but that woman had a smoking hot figure. His fingers twitched, wanting to clutch onto the chick’s hips.
“What’s up, darlin’?” he asked, grippin
g onto his belt to keep from seizing the woman who would gladly duck into a closet with him.
“This came.” The hostess held out a postcard, her gaze low. “I’m pretty sure it’s for you.”
The postcard’s glossy front gleamed in the restaurant’s harsh lights, driving Vinny’s pulse to race. More strange, as guilt rushed in. This postcard just had to arrive at the same time as his thoughts to bend the woman in front of him over her podium.
Vinny stood up straight, cleared the dirty thoughts from his mind, and took the postcard. “Thanks, Donna.” She flashed a sweet smile before hurrying off to bark orders at the busboy.
“Kentucky,” he muttered, running his finger along the picture of green mountains. He flipped the postcard over, grinning at the first sentence.
Cocksucker Dante is a motherfucking liar. You were right. He doesn’t know where my mom is, but I think I can find her. Just gotta get Dez to let me in the clubhouse. I got to see the munchkin. Fuck, he got big.
A long sigh sunk Vinny’s chest. He drew the postcard close, but it didn’t soothe the ache that scorched within. Sasha was back at the holler, alone, with Dez. His brother would throw Sasha against a wall, and it’d be so long Vinny.
He’d see. If another postcard came, and it wasn’t a Dear John letter or full of barbed insults to cover guilt, then his girl really would be his girl. Tomorrow afternoon seemed like an eternity away. Thankfully he was coming down from an extended cocaine bender, hard, and would most likely sleep through the entire wait.
Vinny pulled his shades from his inside pocket, slid them up his nose, and strolled into blinding rays of daylight.
***
Sasha
Sasha walked from the rest stop, jogging across the parking lot to her idling semi. Vinny was going to end up getting two postcards a day at this rate, but fuck him if he didn’t like it. Sending those stupid little cards with their shitty pictures was the only way she could be close to him. Sure she could call him, but this was way more fun.
