Six Guns: Volume One

by Sara V. Zook

  Hagan walked over to me, a smile on his face, and plopped down on the couch next to me. His brown jacket was off, revealing that he was a heavy-set guy with a huge gut. “So what do you think?” he asked, his chest puffing out a little as he glanced around the huge, open room.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know what to think, man,” I admitted, laughing a little. My eyes met with the bartender’s. She flashed me a smile and flipped her hair over her shoulder as she turned around.

  “I mean, you get the gist of who everyone is, right?” Hagan pointed to Seton. “He’s Carmine’s main right hand. He never questions anything, just does what he’s told. That’s what makes him such a great right hand. He doesn’t have a fuckin’ conscience. Carmine hand-picked him.” He snickered. “You got the Triplets, who are really brothers, by the way.”

  “Really?” I shook my head in disbelief.

  “Yeah, no kidding, man,” Hagan said seriously. “They’re pure muscle.”

  “I can’t even see their necks.”

  He cracked up.

  “Their mom must’ve been on ‘roids or something when she was pregnant with them.” My eyes looked up as one of the Triplets came carrying a beer and handed it to me. “Thanks.” He nodded in response. “Do they have names?”

  Hagan laughed. “Hell if I know.”

  “Do they ever talk?”

  “Yeah, but not much.”

  I took a sip of beer and licked my cold lips. Seton glanced my way from across the room, then returned his attention to the girl who was sitting on his lap, a pretty large woman with knee-high black boots on. She whispered something in his ear, and he laughed.

  “That’s strange,” I mumbled.

  “What is?” Hagan asked.

  “Seton laughing.”

  Hagan grinned. “That it is.” He pointed to another man surrounded by three girls over at the pool table that I recognized as the driver from today. “That’s Augie. He’s pretty shy and does most of the driving jobs. He’s pretty hands-off.”

  “He doesn’t look very shy,” I commented, taking note of the women flocking him.

  “Yeah, well, the ladies love him ‘cause he’s a gentleman,” Hagan emphasized. “And then you got Remmy. He’s the brains.”

  My eyes shifted to who he was talking about.

  “He can read a person like a book.”

  I hadn’t seen Remmy before. He was a thin guy with disheveled brown hair that needed cut. He had a long, pointy nose. An older woman with shiny black hair with steaks of gray was beside him. She was very busty and her thick legs could barely cross as she sat with a cigarette held up in her hand. She looked my way and caught me staring at her. A dimple formed in the side of her cheek as she smiled at me. These girls were all so—friendly. That was a plus. “Who’s that?” I asked.

  Hagan followed my gaze to the woman. I took another gulp of beer and leaned back in my chair. “That’s Remmy’s wife, Lola.”

  “Lola,” I repeated, my eyes still locked on her. What an odd pair Remmy and Lola were. He seemed like such a nerd, and she looked like—well, a retired slut in her short skirt and revealing shirt that was ten times too small. The rolls in her gut were even revealed. She didn’t leave a whole lot for the imagination.

  Jane, the beat up bartender from The Salty Dawg, had run off into the corner with one of the Triplets. They were already making out over there; she had climbed on top of him in front of everyone. I had watched her snort a line from the bar a few minutes ago. That nasty-looking bruise on her face was probably not causing her any pain anymore after that. She had tried to make conversation with me in the car. I hadn’t felt much like talking and kept the responses to short, one-word answers. I think it had pissed her off. I didn’t feel jealous or anything that she was with one of the Triplets. I wasn’t about to make out with a chick who had blood scabbed all over her face. I had standards, you know.

  “So why are you cluing me in on everyone?” I held the bottle up to my lips again and cocked a brow at Hagan.

  He leaned back too, his stomach protruding. “Guess I just have an interest in you, Nicky Cain.”

  I nodded as my mom’s face popped into my mind. I wondered what she had thought about whoever Carmine had sent to give her some money. I should’ve taken the time to give her a call and see how she was doing. She was probably worried about me. She was always worried about me. “Why’s that?”

  I heard Hagan sigh beside me as he shifted positions to make himself more comfortable. “Because Carmine’s interested in you, and that makes you an intriguing man. I mean, I can’t figure why the hell he wants to include you, someone who obviously doesn’t want a piece of all this.” He waved his hands around as his eyes moved from the ceiling to the floor of the room. He made it seem like all this was such a glamorous thing to be part of—and it was. My eyes kept wandering to new details, the chrome, the electronics, the pieces of ass…I deserved all this, which was why I was still here. “Doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.”

  I stared at my drink for a few moments. “No, it doesn’t.” This room was stunning, better than any bar I’d ever been in my entire life, but there was more than just meets the eye with these guys. It was obvious Carmine treated his men right, treated them with the best things money could buy because he needed them to do unspeakable things for him. They did his dirty work and they all lived this life, but did they sleep at night is what I wanted to know. I almost opened my mouth to ask Hagan that but decided against it. Of course they didn’t sleep well at night. They may be murderers and drug lords and whatever the hell else they did, but they were still men, they were still human, and that meant that guilt lingered somewhere inside them all. I finally asked, “So, where’s Carmine?”

  Hagan motioned for one of the girls to come over. “Get me another one of these,” he told her, handing her the beer. She nodded and glanced my way before hurrying off. “Probably upstairs in his castle. He never joins us. He keeps to himself.” Hagan snorted as he took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his nose. In looking at him from earlier with his nice, expensive coat and hat on to now where he was all fat with his greasy, bald head, he was a pretty disgusting man. He almost made me want to wrinkle my nose just looking at him now. Too close—he was sitting too close.

  The girl returned with Hagan’s beer. She handed me a shot.

  “What’s this?” I looked up at her.

  Her face turned a shade of red from me eyeing her up. “Whiskey. It’s from him.” She turned and pointed at Seton. Seton raised his own shot glass at me, so I did the same and drank it down in one gulp. It burned the whole way to my stomach. The girl held out her hand for the empty shot glass. I handed it over to her, my fingers touching the skin on her hand. We stared at each other for a few seconds before she ran off again.

  Hagan snickered.

  “Is Carmine married? He got kids?” I sucked down another swallow of beer to chase that shot.

  “Who knows? Sometimes he takes trips to New Jersey. I’ve heard rumors that he may have a family down there, but none of us are brave enough to straight out ask him.”

  I rolled my eyes and laughed. This whole scenario was funny but not really. This was some serious shit, and just being here, getting to know who everyone was, learning their names, didn’t sit well in my stomach. Somehow I knew against my better judgment that I should be trying a little harder to get out of Haven now before leaving wasn’t even an option anymore. Yet here I sat with this slob beside me, listening to him go on and on about his crew, and as I sat there in the comfy chair with my ice cold beer, on the other hand, I wasn’t too anxious to leave just yet. It was such a pretty picture before me, the girls, expensive house, and bottomless liquor, but I knew that everyone else knew in this room that behind it all sat a very ugly lifestyle. I wanted these things, I wanted them bad, but I didn’t know if I could cut it here. I talked big and had a bad temper, but when it actually came down to it, I didn’t know if I had what it took.

  “Hey.” Seto
n looked down at me, breaking me away from my train of thought. A girl hung from him, her arms wrapped around his waist. “You like the place? Whatcha think?”

  “Isn’t it great?” the woman said, pieces of her hair falling into her face as she could barely stand up.

  Seton grabbed her arms and unraveled them. “Go to the other side of the room,” he commanded her.

  She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout.

  “Get the fuck over there!” Seton yelled. That was enough to send her scrambling away. He rolled his eyes as he turned back to us. “Jesus Christ…damn skanks anyway.” He pulled a chair over so that I was now in the middle between him and Hagan. “So?” He raised his eyebrows. “Thoughts, Nicky?”

  I didn’t look at him. I watched Augie break up some balls with a pool stick. “Honestly, man, I don’t know about any of this.”

  I could feel Seton and Hagan exchange glances.

  “It’s new to you, I get that,” Seton continued.

  I huffed out a laugh. What an understatement. Of course this was fucking new to me!

  “Carmine doesn’t let outsiders in.” He paused for a moment. “But he wants you in. He wants to offer you a place here with us.”

  I struggled to find myself in any of this. I didn’t know if I could be one of them—ever. “I don’t know what you want me to say here. These last few days have been a lot to take in, man.”

  “I know what you mean.” Hagan put his hand on my shoulder like a father figure. It made me want to shrink away from his touch, but I somehow managed to stay put. “Take a look around, Nicky, let it all sink in. Why would you want to refuse a man like Carmine? I mean, do you even know how great of an honor this is?”

  Honor? Was he joking? There was no fucking honor in what these dirt bags did.

  The door to the room opened and a crowd of women hurried in. They were all hot and dressed in high-heels and bulky jewelry. They were giggling and had their arms linked in with each other as they filled the room. The music went a few notches louder and the bar became full.

  “Who are they?” I asked.

  Hagan already had his eye on one. “These are our groupies, Nicky.” He licked his lips grotesquely.

  “Groupies?”

  Seton chuckled. “They’re from the outside. Some are regulars, some new, but they all want us, do anything for us.”

  “Do anything to us,” Hagan added. He stood up and walked over to one. He pinched her on the ass. She yelped and started giggling.

  Two brunettes headed my way, their eyes locked on mine as they walked provocatively toward me. Another girl with short black hair and dark red lipstick came up from behind them with a tray of shots. I pulled out a cigarette. One of the brunettes bent over to light it for me.

  “Thanks,” I told her, taking a hit.

  “Who’s this?” one of the girls asked. “Haven’t seen him around here before.”

  “Nicky,” Seton announced.

  “Hello, Nicky,” the girls said in unison.

  I grinned as the black-haired girl passed around shots to me and Seton.

  Seton smirked as he held up the tiny glass. “Cheers to the life!”

  Everyone else held up their shot and exclaimed, “Cheers to the life!” I watched as they all drank at once and then afterward took my own. One of the brunettes sat down on my lap, her fingers stroking the back of my neck, sending chills down my spine as she gazed into my eyes.

  “I told you the ladies would love you, Cain!” Hagan bellowed out from somewhere in the middle of the room. I couldn’t even see him. This girl was in front of my face. She bent down and pressed her lips to mine, the liquor strong on her breath.

  I couldn’t focus on this moment, on this chick who was all over me. The liquor and beer were starting to make things hazy, but what I really wanted to do was think and think straight. I couldn’t let these amazing things alter my decision and answer to Seton’s question. The girl kissed me again, and I kissed back, her other hand finding its way to my thigh, but one thought still haunted me and wasn’t going anywhere no matter how drunk I got tonight—what the hell did Carmine want with me?

  12

  CROSS

  I wiped the drool from my cheek as I slowly sat up in bed. What time was it? The clock on the nightstand read 9:25. Shit. I was already so late for work. I looked down at the pillow. It was smeared in black eyeliner, pink lip gloss and spit. Gross. I didn’t even bother looking in the mirror as I walked to the bathroom in the motel and turned on the shower to the hottest setting possible. My head was throbbing from that wine Rich had given me—Rich. I remembered just then why I was here. What a dick he had been. I walked barefoot back out to the bed to look for my purse where I began digging for some ibuprofen. With the pills in my hand, I searched for a bottle of water, a cup to get water—anything, but there was nothing. I walked back into the bathroom that was already getting steamed up from the hot, running water and turned on the sink. Cupping my hand underneath the faucet, I sucked in a few handfuls of water to quench my parched mouth before taking a large gulp to get the pills down. I managed to get the black dress unzipped just enough to wiggle out of it and stepped into the shower. I let the hot water run down over my hair and face and sighed. I felt like shit, and I was late for work. I had to go home and get changed before I even got to go into work. Rich would know why I was late, but still, what the hell was I going to say to him, or him to me? He had ruined everything, and the one place I was comfortable going to since I hated being in that house with Mark anymore, the one place I could find a little bit of solitude…Rich had now messed that up for me, too. I hated men. They seriously sucked. I reached out to the edge of the sink where a bar of crappy motel soap sat and started scrubbing my body. What if I ran into Mark when I went home? What if he questioned where I was? I didn’t want to deal with any of this right now—I wouldn’t. I felt too much like death with this hangover that it even hurt my brain to think.

  I wrapped a towel around myself and one around my head before I wiped off the mirror with a clean washcloth and dared to look at myself. Huge circles, pale face…that was about right after the kind of night I went through. I looked down at my black dress crumpled up on the floor and wrinkled up my nose. Damn. I had to put that thing back on again. It reeked of Rich’s cigar smoke. I put it back on and raked a hand through my wet hair. I reached for my purse and phone—no calls and battery almost dead. Then I darted out the motel door into the bright sunlight. I wanted to scream from the pain the brightness was creating inside my head. I hurried to look for sunglasses in my purse. I used the last energy of life of my phone battery up on calling a taxi and tried to stay in the shade for my head’s sake and the sake of those who would see what a mess I was while I waited for my ride and for that damn ibuprofen to finally kick in.

  Wet drops from my hair were running down the exposed parts of my back as I rode in the back of the taxi to my house. My anxiety grew with each mile as I drew closer, not knowing what to expect when I got there. I wasn’t sure what I’d say. It was either going to be that I didn’t speak to him at all or simply that I got a motel room. I just prayed he wasn’t there at all.

  I tossed some cash toward the taxi driver and walked up the sidewalk to the front door. My car was parked in the driveway. I hesitated before turning the knob slowly and entering my house. The awful stench of garbage hit my nostrils which made my already gurgling stomach turn even sourer. I didn’t see Mark—thank god.

  I made my way to the bathroom to dry my hair. I had just pulled the blow dryer out of the drawer when I heard the sound of the garage door opening and rushed to the living room window as Mark was backing down the driveway toward the road. I was surprised he’d even be up this early, let alone dressed and leaving for the day. It made me wonder where he was going, and before even having second thoughts, I grabbed my car keys from the kitchen and headed out to my car. Before I knew it, I was a few cars back from Mark as I followed him to the other side of Haven. My knuckles turned white wit
h my grip on the steering wheel. I was exhausted, but I couldn’t find a place of comfort to sleep anymore. I didn’t feel as if I had anywhere to go, and it was beginning to drive me into a dark place as little by little my emotions felt numbed to the world. There was this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach about where Mark was going. I shouldn’t even care though, that’s what bugged me the most. I didn’t want anything to do with that despicable human being anymore, so why was I still following him? What did I expect to come from this outrageous behavior on my part? This was totally out of my character, but I didn’t feel like myself lately. I felt horrible inside, ripped apart and unable to put myself back together. Screw work today. Looks like I’m not going.

  Mark’s junky truck went into a slummy part of town. I found myself hitting the lock button to ensure all my doors were secure through this section of Haven. I looked around at the people hanging out on the sides of the street. They were staring back. His truck rounded a corner and pulled alongside the road. I slowed to a halt and pulled in behind another parked car so the chances of him noticing my car were slim.

  Mark got out of his truck. His dark hair was damp and slicked back. He was freshly shaven. I slid into the passenger side of my car so I could get a better look at him. He walked up the sidewalk to a pale yellow house. There were couches and boxes on the small front porch. Mark grinned and stopped at the bottom of the step as he was looking in the front door at someone.

  I pressed my nose up against the passenger window. A Hispanic woman waddled down the steps. Mark opened his arms and she pressed into him as the two embraced. She had long dark hair, but the feature that stuck out the most was the fact that she was huge—not overweight huge—pregnant huge. She could barely walk and leaned on Mark’s arm as he led her to his truck.