Free Ashby Holler by Jamie Zakian Page B

here alone for so long.”
    “I hide nothing, am ashamed of nothing. My father respects me for it.” Carmen lifted the end of Sasha’s tank top. “Is that what this bruise is about? Intolerant redneck fucks? Things are a lot different here in the city, mama.”
    Sasha stopped Carmen from fumbling with her belt. Thoughts of a brutal stomp-down and a visit to the cellar kind of killed the mood. “I should hit the road. Besides, I came like five times just watching your body quake.”
    “Ooh.” Carmen fell against Sasha’s chest, licking her lips. “There’s that magic tongue again.”
    A heart beat against Sasha’s chest, and it wasn’t her own. It was faster, harder. The thump turned to a pound as she slid her hands down Carmen’s back, clutching onto her ass. Their lips met, gliding, caressing, skating atop one another. It took every ounce of strength and the last bit of her willpower, but Sasha pulled herself from the sensuous woman’s embrace.
    She hopped into the front, lighting a cigarette while Carmen slinked back into her dress. Carmen’s fingers slid along the back of her hand before she stole the cigarette from Sasha’s grasp.
    “All right, mama. Let’s get you on your way,” Carmen said through a billow of smoke.
    Sasha opened her door, climbing out. She helped Carmen ease off the steel grate step, those high heels wedging in the rough slits.
    Once on solid ground, Carmen smoothed back her already perfect hair then smirked. “You know, if we pooled our resources and cut out the overhead, we could run the largest syndicate in the midwest.”
    The words sent razor-winged butterflies whirling in Sasha’s stomach. Her mouth opened, but her thought process hadn’t caught up yet, so nothing came out. Finally, she said, “I’m not lookin’ to run anything.”
    Carmen laughed, more of a wicked taunt, and crept closer. “You will. And when you do, I’ll be waiting.”
    After a long, ravenous gaze, Carmen strolled away. “Next time, mama.”
    “Absolutely,” Sasha said in more of a whisper. By the time she climbed back into her rig, Carmen was gone and the warehouse bay open. She backed her big rig out of the warehouse, weaved past abandoned buildings, and barreled down toward the freeway.
    “Shit, seven-thirty. I’m so late.” The engine whistled as Sasha ran through gears, pushing for the south. She clicked on the radio, turning up the volume. Not even the wail of Def Leppard could drown out Carmen’s words. They could monopolize all criminal activity in a five-hundred-mile radius, easy. It would mean…sacrificing everything.
    A shiver ran down Sasha’s spine. She shook it off, shifted into tenth, and settled back for a long ride.
     
    ***
     
    Vinny
     
    Pebbles skipped under Vinny’s anxious pace. He looked at his watch, stopping to gawk. “Twelve-fifteen,” he groaned. “Where the fuck are you?”
    Voices drew his gaze back to the clubhouse. From across the lot, he watched Dez escort Debbie to his truck then drive off. Alone again, with only the chirp of crickets, Vinny resumed his circular gait. The rumble of a diesel engine echoed from the hills below, cementing his feet in place. He listened, head cocked toward the night sky. When the whoosh of airbrakes silenced the mockingbirds’ call, he dashed up the porch steps.
    First, Vinny slouched on the bench with his arm propped along the back. Then he sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. Finally, after a mental reminder about the hazards of dorkiness, he lit a joint and drooped against the armrest.
    A truck’s door slammed shut, and his heart skipped. Beads of sweat pooled on his palm at the sight of Sasha. Her long brown hair tapped her leather jacket as she floated across the compound, baggy cargo pants dragging in the dirt.
    Vinny hit the joint when Sasha’s boot landed on the porch, casting a red glow around his face and luring her stare.
    “Hey,” he said, a stream of smoke following his voice.
    “Yes! Weed me.”