Ashby Holler
Authors: Jamie Zakian
ASHBY HOLLER
By Jamie Zakian
ASHBY HOLLER
Copyright © 2016 by Jamie Zakian.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: June 2016
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-665-7
ISBN-10: 1-68058-665-3
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
This one goes out to my farm family for being so awesome.
Sasha’s palm glided along smooth skin, her fingers tracing a path left by her tongue only moments ago. The woman below her shuddered with every touch. Soft giggles tickled Sasha’s ears, and locks of red hair filled her hand. It was almost enough to make her forget the evils that waited outside her door…almost.
“Sorry, Candy, but I gotta go.”
Candy clung to Sasha’s arm and tugged. “You still owe me.”
“Yeah.” Sasha shook free, grabbing her bra as she rose from the bed. “But I can’t keep my mother waiting.” She wiggled into her cargo pants, fastening the belt. “And you better sneak out of here the way you came in. If I get caught again—”
“I know.” Candy sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed. “I still hate myself for hiding in the bushes when your mom had the club beat you down.”
Sasha slid a tank top over her head just in time to cover her frown. “More like stomp my face into the gravel.”
“It’s 1984. You’d think people would be more open to—”
“Shh!” Sasha crouched between Candy’s legs, gripping her by the waist. “My mom will never accept a dyke as a daughter or a sergeant at arms. You know how important this is to me.”
Sasha leaned in, scooting farther between Candy’s legs.
“You better hurry then,” Candy whispered. “Your meeting starts in five.”
“Shit.” Sasha jumped up, stopping in front of the mirror to fix her smeared makeup. After tying a bandana atop her messy hair, she headed for the door.
“Wait,” Candy said. She hopped out of bed, snatched a leather coat from the floor, and trotted across the room stark naked. “Don’t forget your skin.”
Sasha slid her arm around Candy’s waist, pulling her close. “Thanks. Wear that white mini tonight. I plan on repaying my debt.” She took her jacket from Candy’s hand then shuffled through the door.
Wooden boards creaked as Sasha thumped down narrow stairs, away from her loft above the garage. A stillness clung to the air, sweeping across all fifty acres of the compound. Rare, to have the place to herself. No locals passed out in the bushes or brightly painted chicks waiting for the party to kick off. Just her, a wide stretch of gravel, and the sun gleaming off a line of eighteen wheelers. She walked past the four majestic rigs. Her vessels of escape, each gassed up and ready to haul pounds of marijuana from their warehouse deep in the hills of Kentucky to them thirsty city folk.
She hightailed it to the clubhouse without a glance at her mother’s huge Victorian house atop the hill. When she climbed the porch steps, her mother’s voice hit her ears. Then she heard her mother drop her name, along with a few colorful words.
“I know. I’m fuckin late,” Sasha muttered, storming inside the clubhouse. Her hip bumped the pool table and caused the little colored balls to clink against one another. She maneuvered around a scatter of stools, took a sip of someone’s steaming cup of coffee thoughtfully left for her on the bar, and slipped into the backroom. Before the door could click shut, she dropped into her seat beside Vinny like she’d been there all along.
Thankfully, the room was abuzz with side conversations. The men on the other side of the long table chatted with her mother, except for Kev, who looked asleep behind his sunglasses. Sasha didn’t look at the head of the table. It was best to avoid her mother’s glare, at least not until after a few hits of a big fat joint.
She nodded to Rolo, who was fidgeting at the end of the table, then glanced at Vinny.
Vinny narrowed his eyes and Sasha shrugged. He leaned close, his blonde hair tumbling over his wide shoulder. “You smell like pussy,” he whispered.
When she burst out laughing, the chatter stopped and eyes veered to her. She cleared her throat, straightened her jacket, and sat tall.
“Now that we’re all here,” her mother said, hurling a glare that could shatter ice, “we can begin.”
“Sorry I was late, but I have a good excuse.” Sasha reached into the inside pocket of her jacket and pulled out an envelope. When she dropped it on the table, polaroids slid across the glossy surface.
“What’s this?” Chewy asked, his gray beard gliding along the table as he scooped up a picture. No one else moved. They just looked at Chewy, as if waiting for a thumbs-up from their vice president.
“That’s our esteemed sheriff, getting…rode by Candy.” Sasha grinned, grabbing a joint from the ashtray.
“Ha! Literally,” Chewy said through a smirk, and everyone reached for a photo.
“Yep.” Sasha searched for her lighter, the joint flopping as she spoke. “He wanted her to ride him around the motel room like a horse, whip and all.”
Vinny snapped his zippo to life, holding out the flame. Their eyes met as she neared the fire, and he winked.
“Well, goddamn,” Chewy drawled.
“I knew he was a freak,” Vinny said, eyeing the pictures scattered atop the table.
“Look at those titties.” Otis shoved one of the photos into his pocket then grabbed another.
Sasha didn’t have to look. Every inch of Candy’s body was etched into her mind. She flicked her ashes, taking another deep puff. Kind bud, breakfast of champions. “This is good shit. Is it our new product?”
Her mother nodded, eyes still stuck on the vulgar images. “We got that bastard, our own little bitch with a badge.”
Vinny glanced at a picture of the sheriff on his hands and knees and pushed it away. “Think his wife rides him around like that?”
“Doubt it.” Sasha chuckled. “That fat old cow would break his back. And they didn’t bone. Candy really tried then the sheriff pulled out a saddle, so she went with it.”
“This is enough to get him off our backs,” her mother said, gathering up the photos.
“Good pun.” Chewy snickered.
“That poor girl.” Otis leaned back in his chair, running his hand along his smooth chin. “We should thank her, throw her a proper clubhouse party. Ellen?”
Sasha looked at her mother, who nodded.
“Which brings us to the topic at hand.” Ellen shoved the pictures back into the envelope before taking her seat. “We lost three members in last month’s…scuffle with the biker dicks.”
Groans and muffled obscenities rang out. Sasha glanced at Vinny, shrinking back as he continued to stare at her.
“Both of our prospects are at the table and we have three positions to fill, so we’re still a man down.” Ellen paused, clasping her fingers together. “It’s no secret Sasha wants the sergeant at arms spot.”
“Okay.” Otis chuckled. “What’s she, like, twelve?”
Sasha steered her gaze at Otis, mirroring his cocky leer. “Nineteen, asshole.”
“No one could ever replace Ronny as Sarge, but he did take Sasha under his wing,” Chewy said, looking to the ceiling. “Rest his soul.”
“I second that,” Kev blurted, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes.
“Were you sleeping?” Vinny asked.
“There’s no vote in motion to second, you fucking idiot,” Otis said.
Sasha leaned back in her chair. A
tap, tap, tap
shook the floor beside her, and she looked at Rolo, who was slouched at the end of the table. Sweat rolled down his cheek, the muscles of his jaw flexing. That one glance sparked her temper, pumping fire into her veins. She knew that face. Rolo had the same stupid expression when she caught him stealing from her lunchbox in the fourth grade.
Her elbows hit the table, and she leaned forward. “Rolo, you’ve been awfully quiet.” She rose to her feet, her chair scraping against the floor. “And you’ve got that look.”
Vinny jumped up, following Sasha to Rolo’s side. She placed her hands on Rolo’s jittery shoulders, squeezing hard. Rolo reached for her wrist and Vinny seized his hand, pinning it to the table.
“Get off!” Rolo yelled. He tried to stand, but Sasha moved her grip to the back of his neck, holding him down. His shirt hiked up and she caught sight of a black wire.
“You motherfucker.” Sasha dug her nails into Rolo’s skin as she slammed his head against the table.
Blood splattered the second Rolo’s face struck solid wood. He dropped to his knees, holding his nose, and everyone rose to their feet. Large men crept toward Rolo, swarming like the sharks they were, and Sasha stepped away to avoid the frenzy.
“Don’t do it, man,” Rolo said, crawling backward on the floor. “The fuzz is right outside.”
Ellen ran to the window, peeking out, and Vinny kicked Rolo in the gut.
Otis pushed Vinny aside, kneeling down to clutch Rolo’s throat. “I’m gonna ass rape you with a broom stick every day we’re in the pen,” he said in a growl.
Sasha pushed back a snicker and pulled a knife from the sheath on her belt.
“I don’t see anyone out there.” Ellen breezed across the room, opening a tall cabinet. She handed an assault rifle to Chewy then tossed one to Kev. “You, go check the perimeter.”
Kev scampered from the room, and Sasha cut the shirt from Rolo’s chest. She ripped a thin cable from his skin and then kicked him over. The cord led to a recorder, taped to Rolo’s back, and Sasha pulled it off.
“It’s not live. No one’s listening.” She handed the device to her mother and sheathed her blade.
A sinister laugh bellowed from Chewy’s mouth. He sounded like an evil Santa. Vinny cracked his knuckles. It was about to get messy, hours-of-scrubbing-the-floor messy.
“He’s your friend, Sasha. You vouched for him,” her mother said, holding a dangerous glare.
Sasha glanced over her shoulder at Rolo. The compassion she felt for the man cowering in the corner enflamed her already blazing rage to a near-blinding status. This room was no place for the weak. She grabbed a handgun from the holster on her mother’s belt and tucked it into her waistband.
“I’m taking him to the cellar,” Sasha whispered into her mother’s ear. “You need to get this place swept before we talk any more business.”
When her mother’s hand grazed her cheek, she fought to keep from flinching.
“That sounded just like your father. Go on.”
Sasha backed away, turning to eye the seething men cornering the scrawny punk on the floor. “Guys, it’s obvious Rolo doesn’t want to be employed at Ashby Trucking any longer, so I’m gonna drop him off at his buddy’s house.” She strolled past furious faces and grabbed Rolo by his ripped shirt, yanking the sorry sack to his feet.
“I’ll go with you,” Vinny said, latching onto Rolo’s other arm.