Ashby Holler (18 page)

“Why don’t we cop a squat?” Dez draped his arm over Candy’s shoulder, ushering her toward the couch. “Talk a little more.”

***

Ellen

Ellen belted out a laugh, setting her bottle on the bar. She turned from the group of men, still chuckling, and scanned the clubhouse. Her smile dropped, muscles tightening. She watched Dez wrap his arm around Candy and stroll toward the sofa, shooing a couple away.

Her eyes locked on Vinny, who was leaning against a pool stick with a dumbass look on his face. The levels of annoyance in her body spiked. She pushed through the crowd, stepping beside Vinny.

“What the fuck is this shit?” she asked, joining Vinny in his gawk.

Vinny shrugged without tearing his glare from Dez. “I don’t know. It was weird. They bumped into each other and just started talking.”

“About what?”

“Stupid shit. Not…her or anything.”

“This could go sour,” Ellen said, cringing as Candy laughed under Dez’s arm.

“I know,” Vinny said, his foot tapping the wooden planks. “But if I drag him out of here, he’s gonna know something’s up. Where’s Otis?”

Ellen peeked over her shoulder then turned back to the scene on the couch. “At the bar, shootin’ the shit with a few locals.”

“I could start a fight.” Vinny curled his fingers into a fist, glancing around the room. “That guy in the corner looks shady.”

A snicker brought Ellen’s anxiety down a notch, and she patted Vinny on the back. “That’s why I love ya, kid. You know what? Fuck it. Let’s get a drink.”

“But—”

Ellen took Vinny by the arm and pulled him toward the bar, pool stick and all.

Chapter Twenty-One

Sasha

A ray of sunlight bounced off the chrome mirror, and Sasha squinted. Her eyes already burned, the lines of the road in front of her crossing. Two more turns and a trek up the mountain, then she could peel her ass off this springy seat. Her hand pawed the center console, spilling empty cigarette packs to the floor.

Misty rubbed her eyes, sitting up in the passenger seat. “Do you need something?”

“My shades,” Sasha said, tossing a handful of empty potato chip bags into the sleeper cab behind her. “They should be right here somewhere.”

“This place is a wreck.” Misty rummaged through maps and receipts, shoving her hand under the seat. “Oh. I found them and this.”

First, a pair of blue-tinted sunglasses fell into view then came the butt of a Colt .45.

“Shit.” Sasha slipped the plastic rims up her nose and grabbed the gun. “It’s for protection. I told you, truckers are dangerous.”

“I guess so.” Misty scooted away, leaning against her door. “It was really heavy, but I guess that makes sense. I mean, it’s a thing that takes people’s spark from the world, so it should weigh a lot.”

A chill ran through Sasha, the gun in her hand seeming much heavier than before. “I never thought of it that way. The types of people I would use this on, they don’t have any spark. Just different shades of darkness.”

A burst of air gushed from the brakes, and Misty flinched then giggled. “Are we here?”

“Yeah.” Sasha stopped the truck, eyeing the open gate. Beyond the gentle slope, her compound looked quiet. Almost peaceful. If they killed enough bikers, it could stay that way forever.

“Is something wrong?” Misty asked.

Sasha looked at Misty then to the gun pressed against her palm. “No. I thought the gate would be locked.” She laid the weapon in her lap, pulling into the driveway.

“Ashby Trucking,” Misty said as they passed the sign that towered above a chain-link fence. “This is where you work?”

“Work?” It took Sasha a minute to make the connection. People only saw the outside of Ashby Trucking, the business, not the front for drug trafficking it really was on the inside. “Oh, no. This is my family’s business. I have a little apartment above the garage.”

Misty stayed glued to her window, turning to stare into the clubhouse as they passed. Through its open door, a light shined above the pool table.

“That looks like a bar.”

“It’s just a hangout for our…employees and friends. There’re a lot of people who live farther up the hill and on the next one over. This way, they don’t have to drive all the way down the mountain to get a drink.”

“Groovy,” Misty said in a long flowing breath. “I like it here already.”

Sasha parked, and Misty reached for the door’s handle.

“Hold up.” Sasha grabbed Misty by the wrist, quickly letting go. “Can you wait here for a second?”

“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.”