by Jamie Zakian
“No, not yet. He’s coming back.”
It was too late to hide the stench of despair, so Sasha rolled with it. “You don’t know that. Your dad took off.”
“My dad was a loser alcoholic. Dez is the complete opposite of that scumbag. He’d never just roll. He wants this. You should’ve seen his face.”
“I wish I could have.” Sasha glared, forcing Vinny back a few steps. “Come on,” she said, walking past him. “I need a drink.”
“You can’t drink,” he said, following her toward the clubhouse.
“Not liquor. Coffee.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to have that either.”
“Jesus Christ.” Her pace quickened, but she couldn’t shake Vinny or his list of don’ts. She popped a cigarette in her mouth and lit it. Before she could get in a full drag, Vinny yanked the butt from her lips.
“You definitely don’t wanna smoke these.” He puffed on the cigarette before flicking it to the gravel.
“Come on, man.” Sasha stopped at the foot of the steps, her arms out.
Vinny turned Sasha toward the clubhouse, ushering her up the stairs. “Let’s get you a soda pop.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
She got maybe a foot into the door when some dude blocked her path.
“Hey, Sasha.”
“Who the fuck are you?” she asked, leaning back to better hurl a glare.
“I’m Cory, that’s Cash.” The dude pointed to a near-identical guy behind the bar working a mop. “We’re your prospects.”
“What the…?” Sasha squinted, eyes bouncing between the pair. “Kev, what the fuck is this shit?”
Kev hurried from the pool table, stick in hand. “What? What’d he do?”
“How am I gonna tell them apart?” Sasha asked, crossing her arms. “They look exactly alike.”
“Nah,” Kev said, waving his hand. “Cory over there is taller, wider.”
“That’s Cash,” Cory said, looking down.
“Ah shit,” Kev cried out, banging his pool stick on the wood-planked floor.
“Make ‘em wear signs or something.” Sasha headed to the nearest stool, slapping her palm atop the freshly wiped bar. “Hey, tall, wide one. Get me a Coke, on ice.”
The guy sprang into action, fumbling with the ice chest, as Vinny sat beside Sasha. She leaned toward him, shielding her smirk. “Prospects are awesome.”
“You better watch it. You sounded like your mother for a second. It was scary.”
“Blasphemy!” Sasha’s grin spread into a full-blown smile. “You deserve a slappin’ for that one.”
A glass of ice-cold cola landed in front of Sasha. She nodded to the man whose name she couldn’t remember and spun in her seat, watching Otis spank Kev at a game of nine ball. Over Kev’s whine, a pickup truck revved. Sasha jolted upright, her fingers twisting together. A knot pulled at her chest, squeezing her airways when the sound of a truck door slamming shut echoed through the open door.
Vinny nudged Sasha’s arm, popping the invisible bubble that suffocated her and letting the oxygen-filled room flood in.
“Told you he’d be back.”
Sasha hurled a sharp leer Vinny’s way then grabbed her glass, taking a sip. When Dez walked in and smiled at her, she lowered her gaze. Almost by instinct, she shoved a cigarette in her mouth. Her zippo flipped open, and Vinny plucked the cigarette away.
“S’up,” Dez said, leaning against the bar.
“Where you been, man?” Vinny asked.
“Umm.” Dez glanced around the room before turning his stare to Sasha. “Can I get a hit of this?” He snatched the glass from her hand, took a long gulp, then cringed. “It’s just soda.”
“Yeah. Tell me about it.”
“Oh. Right.” Dez put the drink down, sliding it away. His hand fell to Sasha’s thigh, and he squeezed. “You wanna go outside, have a smoke?”
“I would love to have a smoke,” Sasha said, rolling her head toward Vinny.
Dez took Sasha’s hand, and she stole back her cigarette while hopping off the stool. It wasn’t until they hit the porch that she noticed how tense Dez’s shoulder were and the sweat on his palm. She jerked her hand away, and his flustered eyes shot to her.
“You’re pissed, right?” Sasha leaned against the wooden rail of the porch, staring at her feet. “I was gonna tell you. Fucking Vinny.”
“Sasha,” Dez said, his voice cracking. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a small felt box.
The world took a quick spin before crashing down on Sasha. Air grew thick, like cement, she couldn’t breathe. Then, as if to push the limits of her sanity, the lid flipped open and Dez dropped to one knee.
“Sasha Ashby.”
Sounds, light, her breath all vanished under a high-pitched buzz. She closed her eyes then opened them, but Dez was still down there.
“Will you marry me?”
A huge diamond sparkled in the sun’s rays, casting a rainbow of light and bewitching Sasha’s mind. “Get up,” she muttered, tearing her gaze from the ring and Dez’s hopeful face.
“Not until you answer me.”
“Hey, Sasha.” Otis walked onto the porch, took one look at Dez on bended knee, and dashed back the way he came. “Never mind.”
“Oh my God, get up.” Sasha latched onto Dez’s jacket, pulling him to his feet. “Just, no.”
“What?”
Sasha snapped the lid to the ring box closed, pushing Dez’s hand away. “We don’t need a shotgun wedding. I’m not gonna keep you from your baby.”
“That’s not…” His jaw clenched, head rolling back. “Why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult? Here.” Dez shoved the tiny box in Sasha’s hand, inching so close she could almost feel his heart pound. “I love you, you loopy bitch. If you love me, you’ll marry me.”
Sasha stood, paralyzed, as Dez walked away.
“No hurry,” he called out from the clubhouse door. “But you might not fit into a hot dress in a few months.”
“Dress?” Sasha muttered. Finally, the grip over her body released, and she looked at the clubhouse door, but Dez was gone, except he hadn’t left her alone. The smooth box that pressed into her palm successfully smothered her in his absence. Amazing, how something so small could carry with it the weight to make her hand tremble.
The floorboards shifted beneath Sasha, footsteps drew near, but the damn box bound her to a state of shock. A zippo clinked from what sounded like a mile away, and smoke wafted by in a thick, gray cloud. It’s smell and the promise of nicotine called to her, and still, she couldn’t move a muscle.
“Hey, kiddo,” Otis said softly.
Sasha flinched, breaking the chains of whatever spell had ensnared her. She could hug Otis for freeing her from the trance Dez and his stupid ring put her into.
“Crazy day, huh?” Otis said, plopping onto the bench.
“You could say that.” Sasha shoved the ring in her pocket and sat beside Otis, taking the cigarette from his hand.
“I hate to add to your bucket of shit,” Otis said in a completely unregretful tone, “but I have some questions that can’t wait.”
She’d been waiting for this. The interrogation, followed by the I’m so disappointed speech.
“Okay,” Sasha said, keeping her stare on the faded wood of the porch’s railing.
“This woman, where’d you pick her up at?”
“A rest stop, about twenty miles outside the city.”
“Was she already there, or did she show up after you?”
“I don’t know.” Sasha took a long drag of her cigarette, replaying that day in her head. “I had to take a hose to the trailer, the cargo…excreted, so I was there for a little bit before I saw her. She just walked up to me, spouted out some cute shit, and the next thing I know she’s riding shotgun.”
Otis sat back, the bench squeaking under his shifting weight. “Did you see her make any phone calls?”
“No. This morni
ng was the only time she left my sight, except for last night at the party. But she was with Candy, so I don’t think she could’ve made any calls. I followed the road protocols, checked for tails the whole way home, switched up routes midway. I wasn’t shadowed.”
“What I don’t understand,” Otis said, turning his glare to Sasha, “is how can you be so smart and so stupid? What did you think was gonna happen here?”
“I don’t know.” Sasha flicked the cigarette over the railing and leaned forward. “I was just gonna give her a ride, but she was so full of spirit, carefree.” Misty’s easy flowing smiles, the woman’s laid-back attitude. It was everything Sasha could never become. “I wanted to be her,” she said, the words barely making a sound as they trickled out her mouth.
“It was just an act, Sasha.”
“I know.” She sat back, straining to force the images of golden braids and soft blue eyes from her mind. “People like that don’t exist in real life.”
Otis didn’t say anything for a while. Perhaps he wanted to save the lecture, lay it down while a baby ripped its way from her birth canal, or maybe he could see she’d had enough. Regardless of the reasons, Otis didn’t scold and she wasn’t complaining.
“Do you think I brought the heat down on us?” Sasha asked, avoiding Otis’s eyes and the truth that lie within them.
“I think the mess with Satan’s Crew brought the heat on us. You were just the one who walked them through our door.”
Shame pulled Sasha into a slump. “What should I do?”
“Nothing.” Otis knocked a fresh cigarette against his lighter, packing the loose tobacco into its sleeve. “If you get hauled in, you picked up a girl at a rest stop, and she wanted to do drugs so you dropped her off at the next service station. Got it?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m gonna grab a gas can and head up to the cellar, do our yearly burning a little early.” Otis got up, pointing to her jacket. “What are you gonna do about Dez?”
Her hand flew to the lump in her pocket, which created an even bigger lump in her throat. “I don’t know. What do you think I should do?”
Otis shrugged, lighting his cigarette. “You could always tell him to go fuck himself, marry me.”
The slow nod of Otis’s head and the playful gleam in his eyes pushed a smile onto Sasha’s lips. “Don’t tempt me.”
“You already know you’re gonna say yes. Now it’s just about how long you wanna make the poor guy suffer.”
Sasha snickered as Otis strolled off the porch. A few more minutes as a single woman then she’d go inside and end Dez’s suffering, essentially starting a new phase of torment.
Chapter Thirty
Ellen
Rocky cliffs rose higher, and Ellen leaned back in the Chevelle’s bucket seat, loosening her grip on the steering wheel. Four hours, two states, and every dive bar in between, but not one hog in sight. She was actually afraid, not of death or the destruction of her tiny empire. Her fear stemmed from the thought of losing Dante.
The train wreck of her brain settled once she turned onto the compound. Stiff drinks and the quiet countryside sat just up that hill, the two things that could salvage this hellish day. However, when she glimpsed the amount of cars scattered around the lot, she knew only one of those two things would be possible.
Ellen parked in front of the garage, killing the engine. Music and laughter replaced the rumble of horsepower, provoking her last proverbial straw to bend. Some dude leaned over the clubhouse’s rail, regurgitating about a pint of JD, and that straw snapped. An all-out party tonight. If Otis hadn’t lost his mind, she’d beat it out of him.
Red tinges clouded her vision. Somewhere between plotting Otis’s death and scouring the sea of faces for Dante, Ellen found herself standing in the middle of the clubhouse. Her eyes zeroed in on Otis, and he cringed. People crowded all around her, and the word congratulations echoed in the air, a lot.
“Shit, Ellen,” Otis said, weaving through the mob to reach her side. “You had me worried.”
“So you threw a party? Are you fucking serious?”
Otis shook his head, pointing to the small group at the bar. “It wasn’t me. This is all Sasha and Dez’s doing. I tried to get them to hold off but,” he drew her close, his lips grazing her ear, “without telling them the truth, I had no solid reason.”
“When’s the wedding?” a woman yelled over the thump of speakers.
Ellen pulled back, gawking up at Otis. “Wedding?”
“They’re getting hitched,” Otis said through a grin.
The room faded to black, only Sasha shining through. Ellen watched her little girl smile and sparkle. In that moment, her child held the radiance of a fierce woman. The spoiled brat would return, like always, but for this moment, she’d enjoy the glimpse.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Otis asked.
“No.”
“Come here,” Otis said, cutting into the crowd.
Ellen followed him into the backroom, shutting the door on a large percentage of the racket. “I’m so pissed and so happy, which is making me pissed off even more.”
“It’s all right.” Otis pulled a flask from his pocket, handing it to Ellen. “This party is also a trap. Kev, Vinny, and the prospects are stationed around the compound. They’re loaded up and on the prowl.”
“What did you tell them?”
“To stay low, keep an eye out for anyone creeping into the big house. Or anywhere else they shouldn’t be.”
“Smart.” Ellen took a step toward Otis. The ridges of his chest looked so inviting, a perfect place to rest her frantic head. “Otis, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Her arms circled his waist, and he held her close.
“Let’s hope you don’t have to find out.”
Otis’s deep voice echoed in his chest, singing in Ellen’s ear, and she squeezed him tighter. “I’m sorry to drag you into this mess with your cousin, but Dante, he gets under my skin.”
His big, safe hand cupped her cheek before gliding down the side of her neck. “I tried to warn you about him, twenty years ago when you saw him at my party that night.”
Ellen grinned, peering up into deep, brown eyes. “Yeah.”
“And when you said you’d marry him.”
“Right.” The comfort of his touch grew cold, and she slinked away.
“Then, when you ran off with Ashby.”
Ellen plopped into a chair, kicking her feet onto the table. “If you’re so intuitive, why’d you follow me?”
“You know me, I’m a masochist. Can’t get enough of the pain.” Otis grinned, heading for the door. “You coming? It’s your daughter’s engagement party, hopefully her only one.”
Ellen settled back, the legs of her chair creaking. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
Otis nodded then slipped out the door, into the blare of music and excited voices. The sounds of celebration usually quelled her never-ending stream of thoughts. Not tonight, though. A moment she’d been dreading had come to pass this night. The choice. After years of slinging angles, she had to pick between the man who drove her wild for the last two decades and the club that kept her sane.
She reached for a bottle of whiskey, her boots thumping back to the floor. Hard liquor burned its way down her throat, replacing the scorch of regret. If she had a soul, she’d sell it for five minutes with Dante. She could sway him. Given time, he’d fall right into the fold, and he knew it. That was the reason he stayed away.
A cheer sliced into her solitude like a knife. Ellen sunk down against the wooden back of her seat, clutching the bottle to her chest. The party could wait. She needed a few more swigs of whiskey and to make a life-altering decision.
***
Sasha
Sasha lingered in and out of the conversation. She really did want to know about the property for sale up the mountain, but her attention couldn’t break from the backroom. Dez squeezed her leg, and she looked at him. His glare demanded an answer, which she wou
ld gladly give if she had any idea what the fuck he’d asked.
“You feeling all right?” Dez asked, running the back of his hand over Sasha’s cheek.
“Yeah.” Sasha pushed his arm away, jumping off the barstool. “I’ll be right back.”
A usual five-second walk to the backroom took five fuckin’ minutes, thanks to the bombardment of people Sasha barely recognized. The barrage of well-wishers ended with Otis, who guarded the door to the backroom like a pit-bull.
Sasha gestured for Otis to move aside, and his eyes narrowed. A snicker flew from her lips, as if he could stop her. She hip-checked Otis from her way, opened the door, and strolled inside the backroom.
“Hey,” Sasha said when her mother looked up from the bottle in her hand. She closed the door and crept toward the table. “Can we talk?”
“That’s never a good opener.” Ellen kicked the chair beside her out, its legs grating the wood as it slid toward Sasha. “Take a load off.”
On the drop into the chair, Sasha eyed the joints in the ashtray that centered the table.
“Did you stop smoking?” Ellen asked, grabbing a joint and lighting it up. “You don’t have to. I smoked my whole pregnancy, and you came out just fine.”
“Awesome.” Sasha took the joint, drawing in a long hit before passing it back. “I wasn’t sure,” she said through a tunnel of smoke. “When I was in New York, I had a talk with Antonio Lazzari.”
Ellen snickered, taking a gulp of the near empty bottle in her hand. “And what did Tony say?”
“That Dante is his brother and that you were with him, before you met my dad.”
“Yeah. That was a long time ago.”
Two men and one woman, the subject hit a little too close to the collar for Sasha. She didn’t want to ask her mother these questions, didn’t care to know the truth, but needed to figure out how to find her own answers. “You must really love him, Dante. To still be messing with him after all these years.”
Her mother leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. “What are you getting at?”
“I guess, I’m just wondering. If you could go back, do it different, would you have picked Dante instead?”