by Jamie Zakian
Vinny watched Sasha pull Tyler close, resting her head atop his. God how he wanted to forgive her. It’d be wrong to do it now, just because she’d been…assaulted in jail. Only Sasha could fuck up a person’s fortitude to hold a grudge. It hadn’t even been a week.
“You wanna watch Fraggley Rock?” Tyler asked, clicking the buttons on the remote.
“What is it?” Sasha stared at the TV, narrowing her eyes. “I don’t know, dude. This shit’s kinda freaky.”
Tyler giggled, clicking more buttons.
“What I really want is some ice cream,” Sasha said, nudging Tyler. “What kind you got?”
“We don’t have any ice cream.”
“What?”
“Daddy doesn’t like sweets.”
“Say what!” Sasha steered her gaze to Vinny. “My mom always kept the ice chest loaded with treats.”
“Dez don’t like sweets.”
Sasha snorted, rolling her eyes.
“We could go to the diner,” Tyler said, hopping to his feet. “They have good ice cream.”
Vinny walked into the middle of the room, waving his arms. “Nah—”
“Yeah!” Sasha climbed off the couch, groaning. “I can take you to the diner.”
Tyler ran into the hall, tore back through the room, then headed for the stairs. “I gotta find my shoes.”
Sasha chuckled, and Vinny charged forward.
“What the fuck are you doing?” He’d shove her, if she didn’t look so beat-up already.
“What? I can’t take my kid out for ice cream?”
“No,” Vinny said in a hushed shout. “Not without Dez.”
“Where is he?”
Vinny shrugged, gesturing to the window. “Out looking for Otis.”
“That could take all night. What’s the fucking problem?”
Vinny didn’t want to say it, but fuck, Sasha wasn’t leaving him much of a choice. “What if…What if you take off, with him?”
“Oh my God. What kind of monster do you think I am?”
“I don’t…I can’t…” There weren’t words to describe the type of monster Vinny thought Sasha was. Soulless, cruel, selfish wasn’t strong enough to describe the woman who ripped out hearts for sport.
“I had a really fucked up night, Vinny. Can I just have one awesome thing? Shit, man, I’m looking at a life sentence.”
This wasn’t right; Vinny shouldn’t have to make a decision like this. Tyler hopped down the steps, jumped over the railing, and pulled Sasha toward the door.
“C’mon, Mommy. I’m ready.”
Sasha’s pleading eyes clung to Vinny’s face as her feet shuffled backward. A look he knew well radiated from her gaze. It was the one that told him she’d always have his back, but he didn’t know. He couldn’t trust her, but he couldn’t stop her without hurting Tyler.
“To the diner, and right back,” Vinny said, surprised at how firm his voice came out.
Sasha grinned, hobbling out the door, and Vinny rushed after them.
“Seatbelts,” he yelled from the porch. She waved him off, and his stomach churned. He paced, lit a cigarette, then tossed it to the ground. A truck roared to life, its rumble competing with his heart’s beat.
Vinny ran down the porch steps, stopping at the edge of the hill. “Fuck.” Sasha’s headlights flooded the lot, pulling him down the rocky slope. He should stop her. “Fuck!” Dez was going to kill him, peel his skin off in thin strips. An engine revved, growing fainter as it echoed down the mountain. It was too late. He just let that happen, let Sasha drive off with Tyler. Jesus Christ he was done, and she’d be done too if she fucked Vinny over.
***
Sasha
The feds had done a fine job of ransacking the truck. Tyler didn’t seem to mind a few more rips in the already torn bench seat, and Sasha didn’t give a shit about this old pickup. It was the precious cargo inside that mattered.
She peeked over, catching a goofy smile. Her foot eased off the gas pedal, the truck practically crawling to the stop sign at the end of the steep road. Man, this little dude made for one heavy load.
“It’s right,” Tyler said, his squeaky voice locking her boot even tighter to the brake pedal.
“I know, silly. I’m just…nervous. I never had a kid in my cab before.” She turned right, heading toward town.
“It’s cool. I’ve been in lots of trucks.”
It was cool. Tyler’s attitude, rolling tongue, his cute gestures with his little arms. He was like a tiny awesome person.
“Uncle Vinny let me drive his truck once. But don’t tell Dad.” Tyler turned toward Sasha, pointing his little finger. “He’ll freak.”
“Okay.” Sasha couldn’t help but laugh. The kid was just like her, which could be a bad thing.
A screech of tires lured her stare. She looked out her window, right at the grill of a dump truck. Her hand flew to Tyler. She had just enough time to curl her fingers into Tyler’s shirt before a crash flung her to the side. Glass shattered, pelting her cheek as it flew across the cab.
The dump truck slammed into the driver’s door of Sasha’s truck, flipping it onto its roof. Metal screeched against pavement, sparks showering her skin as the truck grinded to a stop.
While hanging upside down, Sasha leaned across the cab. Blood dripped from her fingers, slapping the mangled roof below as she reached for Tyler. The steering wheel turned under her legs, and she fell to her side. Shards of glass burrowed into her elbows, slicing as she scooted toward the tiny, dangling lifeless arms. Warm drops rained down, splashing Sasha’s cheek. She looked up, and a rush of panic forced a cry from her lungs. Tyler hung upside down, suspended by his seatbelt, blood pouring from his still face.
“No!” Sasha reached up, fumbling for the buckle. “Baby, please.” The latch unclipped, and Tyler dropped into her arms. A groan trickled from his bloody lips and she grinned, hugging him tight. His pain-filled moan scraped her heart, but it was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. It meant he was alive, her baby was alive.
Sasha ripped off her flannel, holding it against a long gash on Tyler’s forehead.
“You hit it too hard,” a man’s voice echoed above the clink of falling glass. Sasha’s entire body froze except for her right hand, which latched onto the butt of her holstered gun.
“The boss wanted her alive.”
City folk. She could pick out that shrill tone in a crowded bar. Not New Yorkers, but definitely easterners. It didn’t matter. Sasha pulled the gun to her chest, sliding away from Tyler. In a minute, they’d be bullet-riddled easterners.
The safety clicked off, and Sasha flinched. The soon-to-be dead men must not have heard it since wing-tipped shoes kept strolling her way. She took aim, glancing at Tyler. His little chest rose and fell, faster than it should. It sparked her own breaths into overdrive. She forced her stare back to the caved-in windshield, looking into a man’s shocked eyes. She squeezed the trigger three times before her brain overrode her body’s fear.
Above the buzz left by gunfire, Sasha heard the click of bullets loading into chambers. She laid down in front of Tyler, trying to follow the shuffle of feet. Not her son. This world could rape her, strip her down to ugly bits, but it couldn’t take her son.
A wail of sirens bounced off the hills, and Sasha’s body nearly crumbled. Never had she been so happy to hear the police headed in her direction. The tap of shoes faded, and her arm dropped. She waited until the sound of a dump truck’s diesel motor drifted away and the sirens grew closer to toss the gun and grab Tyler. A gray haze rolled in to fog her vision, but she beat it back. She had to stay awake, hold this shirt to Tyler’s head, be strong for her boy.
Lights flashed, tinting the crushed cab in blue and red. Voices shouted, telling her she’d be okay, yet her arms grew weaker. In a rush of hands and faces, Tyler was ripped from her clutch. Sasha rolled onto her back, landing in a bed of glass. Darkness crept up, dragging her from the whirl of lights and shouts of men.
***
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Dez
Dez drove up the compound, slamming on the brakes when Vinny ran down the clubhouse steps. Without waiting for Otis to park, Dez shut his engine and climbed from the truck.
“I’m sorry, Dez,” Vinny said, his brow scrunched.
Those three little words ignited a blaze of panic. Dez pushed past Vinny, looking inside the clubhouse. “Where’s Tyler?”
Vinny shook his head, staggering away, and Dez reached for Vinny’s throat. Otis held Dez back. Then Kev joined in, since Dez wasn’t going to stop until his hand squeezed answers from Vinny’s throat.
“Sasha took him,” Vinny yelled, and Dez fell limp. “To the diner, for ice cream.”
“You stupid fuck!” Rage swelled, and Dez broke free from the hands holding him down. Everyone jumped back, inching away. He’d bust Vinny’s face right now, if he had time. “How long ago?”
Vinny flinched, continuing his slow backward flee. “Forty-five minutes.”
“Fuck!” Dez yelled, heading for his truck. “She could be two states over by now.”
“She’ll be back,” Vinny said, in more of a question than a declaration.
Dez cocked his fist, lunging for Vinny. Then remembered, no time. “Fucking retard.” Later, he’d kill his brother later.
The phone rang inside the clubhouse, and Kev ran to get it. Dez peeked through the window, catching an open-mouthed gawk. His chest clenched, tighter than his jaw as Kev dashed back onto the porch.
“Tyler’s in the hospital,” Kev yelled in a near hysterical pitch, his eyes wide with fright.
Dez’s knees almost gave out. He couldn’t breathe. What the fuck was wrong with the air? How could it abandon him when he needed it most? Otis nudged Dez’s arm. It kicked his legs in gear, but did nothing to resolve the no oxygen problem.
“Come on,” Otis said, guiding Dez to the passenger side of his own pickup. “I’ll drive you.”
Chapter Nine
Sasha
Clouds of smoke wafted in gentle swirls, circling Sasha. Through thick puffs of gray, she glimpsed the clubhouse walls. People stood all around her, frozen solid mid-party. Their cups were raised, halted from reaching their lips. Arms were in the air, stuck mid-sway as their owners hit pause on a dance. Nothing moved, except for a flash of red behind the haze.
Sasha only glimpsed a half-second of a maybe memory, but she felt the electric buzz vibrate her bones.
“Candy!”
Green eyes broke through the clouds, curvy hips swinging as Candy sashayed through the crowd of statue people crammed into the hazy clubhouse. Soft skin brushed Sasha’s fingertips when she grabbed Candy, bringing warm tingles. It was real. Her lips pressed against the sweetest mouth she ever tasted, and a scent she never thought would flow again filled her lungs.
“I love you,” Sasha said. She had to say it, just in case Candy didn’t know, since she didn’t have the balls to say it before.
“Don’t forget your skin,” Candy’s silky voice whispered, echoing around the smoke-filled room.
“What?” Sasha asked. She reached for Candy, grasping only cold air. A steady beep blasted her ears, flashing the world in blurs of color. Sasha searched the whirlwind for Candy, seeking out any hints of red.
Fingers pried Sasha’s eyes open, and light flooded in to slap her brain. She swung her arms, whacking a solid body.
“Calm down, Ms. Ashby,” a woman said gently. “You’re all right, at the hospital.”
Sasha sat up, straining to see beyond the fuzz clouding her eyes. No Candy. No clubhouse filled with frozen people. Just a hospital room, also known as a waiting area of Hell.
“Tyler!” Sasha yelled to the woman beside her, who quaked in her crisp nurse’s outfit. “My son.”
“Your son is in critical condition, but—”
Sasha ripped the IV from her arm, pulling wires off her chest.
“Oh dear,” the nurse said, backing toward the door.
“Where’s my clothes?” Sasha shouted, stopping the nurse in the doorway.
“Closet.”
“Don’t go anywhere.” Sasha leapt from the bed. Pain hit in waves, clawing every inch of her body, and she dropped to one knee.
“Please,” the nurse cried out, only stepping one foot from the doorway. “You’ve sustained massive injuries.”
“They’re old.” The mirror on the closet door showed fresh bruises on her side, matching the new scrapes on her arm and face. “Mostly.”
“If you’re in a bad relationship, we can help,” the nurse said.
That brought a snicker. Her bad relationship was with the feds and apparently the mob. Sasha fastened her belt, crying out from the spikes of pain that accompanied her wiggle into a blood-soaked tank top.
“I got these in jail, by a giant dyke bitch who raped me. Aren’t ya glad you’re nosey?” Sasha walked past the woman’s gawk into the too bright hallway. “Now, where’s my kid?”
In a jumble of gasps and oh-mys, the nurse took off down the hall. Sasha followed, faster than her achy body would allow. Fuck the pain. Fuck people’s mushy feelings. She couldn’t give two fucks until she saw her boy, held him tight.
When she walked into a dimly lit room and actually saw Tyler, she almost ran the other way. Now, she didn’t want to see. It twisted her stomach to glimpse her boy’s beautiful face covered by a hard plastic mask. Her knees quaked at the sight of wires and tubes running into his pale bare chest. The group of doctors who hovered over Tyler’s still body were doing fuck-all to wake the kid besides smoke cigarettes, and she could do that.
“The mother’s awake, Dr. Woodrow,” the nurse said, keeping her distance from Sasha.
An older man stepped away from Tyler’s bedside, taking Sasha by the hand.
“Sasha. I was your doctor during your coma.”
The doctor stared at Sasha, like he wanted a thank you for doing absolutely nothing while she was trapped in a sea of black.
“What’s wrong with him?” Sasha asked, pointing at Tyler. “Why isn’t he awake?”
“Your son lost a lot of blood. When patients are so young, we like to transfuse with the parent’s blood.”
“Here, take mine.” Sasha held out her arm. They could have all her blood, if it brought Tyler’s smile back.
“We would have, but you’re B positive. Tyler is A positive. We’ve contacted his father. He should be here any moment.”
“Then will he wake up?” Sasha glanced at the tiny body on the bed, only for a second. Gore had never turned her gut before, but this was different. She couldn’t stomach the sight of Tyler’s little body covered in scratches and welts.
“I’m going to do everything I can to help your boy,” the doctor said, patting Sasha on the arm.
Dez pushed his way into the room, dropping to his knees beside the bed. He took Tyler’s limp hand, casting a glare over his shoulder. “Dammit, Sasha. What did you do?”
“He needs your blood,” Sasha said, still stuck in the middle of the room.
“Do you know your blood type, Mr. Archer?” The doctor asked, and Dez jumped to his feet.
“B positive.”
The room took a quick spin. Sasha stumbled, bumping into the nightstand. “Oh no. I…”
“I’m sorry,” the doctor said softly, “but we need the real father.”
“What?” Dez growled. He looked at Sasha, but she couldn’t speak. How could she, with the hurt slathered on his face? Without a word, Dez stomped to the doorway, grabbed Vinny by the collar, and dragged him across the room. He shoved Vinny into Sasha’s chest and walked out the door.
“Is this the father?” the doctor asked.
“What?” Vinny damn near shouted.
“Do you know your blood type, son?”
Vinny looked between Sasha and the doctor before a meek, “A positive,” streamed from his mouth.
“He’s Tyler’s biological father,” Sasha said, pointing but not looking at Vinny. “But Desmond Archer is Tyler’s legal father.”
“I understand,” the doctor said, ushering Vinny to the door. “I need you to come with me Mr.…”
“Archer,” Vinny muttered.
The doctor stopped short, glancing back at Sasha.
She shrugged. What the fuck could she say, besides yeah, I’m a brother-lovin’ whore. They left the room, but the nurses at Tyler’s bedside hurled snotty leers.
Sasha staggered into the hall, following a slew of “Fucks!” and “Sasha’s” to the waiting room. Her eyes connected with Otis as she stepped in the doorway. He tried to ward her away with his stare, but she walked inside anyway. When Dez saw Sasha, he latched onto her neck and squeezed.
“Why’d you come back, ruin my life?” Dez shouted, snuffing out the flow of air.
The need to fight never came to Sasha. Her arms hit her sides, all her muscles giving in. Dez was going to kill her. Thank God someone was finally going to kill her, end the misery she spread onto the beautiful people of this world.
It took Otis, Kev, and a security guard to pry Dez’s fingers from Sasha’s neck. She dropped to her knees, hacking as cool oxygen rushed in to scrape her sore throat. Dez stormed off and she reached out, only grasping the edge of his pants. Kev took her hand, and she yanked it away. Nobody else should touch her. She’d infect them with her plague of tragedy.
Shame was a strong motivator, granting Sasha just enough energy to climb off the floor. She limped toward the door, keeping her eyes low.
“Where you going?” Otis asked.
Funny, how they all wanted to know where she was going. Probably had bets on when she’d split.
“To find out who tried to kill my son, so I can strangle them with their own entrails.”
“She didn’t mean that literally,” Kev said to the security guard as Sasha slipped from the waiting room.
***
Dez
Dez paced in front of his truck, sucking down a joint. The cherry singed his fingertips, and he chucked it to the ground. He’d been burned enough, wasn’t taking that shit from his own joint. He would blow town, leave the fucking state, but he couldn’t abandon Tyler. Just ‘cause some doctor spouted out the same shit his brother dropped on him last month doesn’t make it true. Why did it have to be true?