three dudes?”
Sasha waved her hand, as if that could clear Dez’s question from the air. “I don’t know. There was a lot going on.”
“You might’ve taken me.” Dez looked into Sasha’s eyes, then away.
“I doubt it. You weren’t drunk.”
“Neither were you.” His next words failed, leaving his mouth open and chest raised.
“Yeah, well, I’m pretty fucking sober now. And it sucks.”
Dez smiled, pushing a strand of blood-clumped hair from Sasha’s face. “I’d kiss you, but your lip’s all split.”
“What, not attractive?” Sasha leaned back, shrugging.
“Come on,” Dez said, climbing to his feet. “Let’s get you out of those bloody clothes and into bed.”
Sasha held her arm out stiff. “Joint. Need joint.”
A chuckle lifted Dez’s lips. “I got ya, man. Bed first.”
“Yeah, all right.” Sasha took Dez’s hand, wobbling to her feet.
Chapter Eight
Sasha lay in bed, listening to the chirp of birds. The small amount of sleep she managed had cleared her drunken mind but did little to heal her sore body.
“Fucking chicks,” she muttered, crawling from bed. No one but a woman could’ve sent her running to Jack’s bar, practically looking for trouble. She stripped off her shirt, stepped in front of the mirror, and stared at her reflection. Shades of blue, purple, and yellow spanned her left side, from thigh to ribcage. Her face was only a tad better. Fat lip, puffy cheek, and a few scrapes.
“Little girl.” She hit the glass with her scabbed knuckles, shaking the closet door and rocking the image that failed to match her mentality.
She dressed slow and careful. Each move inspired a new wave of sharp throbs. As she tied on her bandana, the phone rang. Piles of messy clothes tripped up her steps. She hopped to the side to keep from trampling her jacket and reached for the screaming receiver.
“Yeah.”
“It’s a go,” Jack said in a rush. “They already told the cops a group of blackies jumped them.”
“Jesus.”
“I think they were a little relieved. I mean, who wants to admit they got beat down by a girl?” Jack said with a bit of a chuckle.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“Oh shit. Not that you’re a regular girl or anything.”
“Every word is getting worse, asshole. I like you better when I’m drunk.”
“Ha! I get that a lot,” Jack said, glasses clinking in the background. “Anyway. They’re all at my place now, waiting for the cash.”
“All right. I’ll be there in an hour or so, but I ain’t coming alone.”
“I’ve been a friend of the club a long time, Sasha. I don’t want no trouble with you.”
“Nah, it’s more of a heads-up than a threat. Thanks, Jack. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Before Sasha could hang up the phone, a light knock rattled her door. “Grand central fucking station around here,” she muttered. “What?” she yelled.
“It’s Vinny.”
A slew of grumbles erupted from Sasha’s lips at the sound of his voice. She popped a cigarette in her mouth, flicking her zippo to life. “Come in.”
The door crept open, and the chain of a wallet swung into its frame as Vinny peeked inside.
“Oh, you’re up,” he said, stepping inside the room. “I thought—”
“What? I’d be a blubbering pulp.”
“No. I don’t know.” Vinny shut the door, kicking aside the mess to clear a path to Sasha. His eyes lifted to her face, and he grabbed her hand. “Sasha, I…”
Sasha backed away, shaking her head. Whatever dumb shit was about to tumble from Vinny’s mouth, she didn’t want any part of it. In the blink of an eye, his expression went from one of love to annoyance.
“Why didn’t you call me?” Vinny yelled. “I would’ve chilled at the bar. I was so bored last night.”
“I don’t know. I—”
“And Jack’s bar, really. Only inbred fucks go there. What the hell?”
A shrug was all Sasha offered. She couldn’t tell Vinny how she ran to Jack’s
Sasha waved her hand, as if that could clear Dez’s question from the air. “I don’t know. There was a lot going on.”
“You might’ve taken me.” Dez looked into Sasha’s eyes, then away.
“I doubt it. You weren’t drunk.”
“Neither were you.” His next words failed, leaving his mouth open and chest raised.
“Yeah, well, I’m pretty fucking sober now. And it sucks.”
Dez smiled, pushing a strand of blood-clumped hair from Sasha’s face. “I’d kiss you, but your lip’s all split.”
“What, not attractive?” Sasha leaned back, shrugging.
“Come on,” Dez said, climbing to his feet. “Let’s get you out of those bloody clothes and into bed.”
Sasha held her arm out stiff. “Joint. Need joint.”
A chuckle lifted Dez’s lips. “I got ya, man. Bed first.”
“Yeah, all right.” Sasha took Dez’s hand, wobbling to her feet.
Chapter Eight
Sasha lay in bed, listening to the chirp of birds. The small amount of sleep she managed had cleared her drunken mind but did little to heal her sore body.
“Fucking chicks,” she muttered, crawling from bed. No one but a woman could’ve sent her running to Jack’s bar, practically looking for trouble. She stripped off her shirt, stepped in front of the mirror, and stared at her reflection. Shades of blue, purple, and yellow spanned her left side, from thigh to ribcage. Her face was only a tad better. Fat lip, puffy cheek, and a few scrapes.
“Little girl.” She hit the glass with her scabbed knuckles, shaking the closet door and rocking the image that failed to match her mentality.
She dressed slow and careful. Each move inspired a new wave of sharp throbs. As she tied on her bandana, the phone rang. Piles of messy clothes tripped up her steps. She hopped to the side to keep from trampling her jacket and reached for the screaming receiver.
“Yeah.”
“It’s a go,” Jack said in a rush. “They already told the cops a group of blackies jumped them.”
“Jesus.”
“I think they were a little relieved. I mean, who wants to admit they got beat down by a girl?” Jack said with a bit of a chuckle.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“Oh shit. Not that you’re a regular girl or anything.”
“Every word is getting worse, asshole. I like you better when I’m drunk.”
“Ha! I get that a lot,” Jack said, glasses clinking in the background. “Anyway. They’re all at my place now, waiting for the cash.”
“All right. I’ll be there in an hour or so, but I ain’t coming alone.”
“I’ve been a friend of the club a long time, Sasha. I don’t want no trouble with you.”
“Nah, it’s more of a heads-up than a threat. Thanks, Jack. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Before Sasha could hang up the phone, a light knock rattled her door. “Grand central fucking station around here,” she muttered. “What?” she yelled.
“It’s Vinny.”
A slew of grumbles erupted from Sasha’s lips at the sound of his voice. She popped a cigarette in her mouth, flicking her zippo to life. “Come in.”
The door crept open, and the chain of a wallet swung into its frame as Vinny peeked inside.
“Oh, you’re up,” he said, stepping inside the room. “I thought—”
“What? I’d be a blubbering pulp.”
“No. I don’t know.” Vinny shut the door, kicking aside the mess to clear a path to Sasha. His eyes lifted to her face, and he grabbed her hand. “Sasha, I…”
Sasha backed away, shaking her head. Whatever dumb shit was about to tumble from Vinny’s mouth, she didn’t want any part of it. In the blink of an eye, his expression went from one of love to annoyance.
“Why didn’t you call me?” Vinny yelled. “I would’ve chilled at the bar. I was so bored last night.”
“I don’t know. I—”
“And Jack’s bar, really. Only inbred fucks go there. What the hell?”
A shrug was all Sasha offered. She couldn’t tell Vinny how she ran to Jack’s
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