Ash

Did I just see a hot chick running down the road with a live chicken under her arm?

Blinking my eyes in disbelief, I rub them vigorously with my palms as if that'll make me see better and look through my windshield again. Sure enough, as there's a long-legged, silver-maned woman sprinting down the road at three-thirty in the goddamn morning with a fucking live-ass chicken tucked protectively under her arm. Pulling over to the shoulder, I put my car into park. Should I ask her if she needs help? Where the fuck did she go? Getting out of my Tesla, I scan my surroundings in search of her. She's gone. Did I imagine her? I am pretty fucking tired…

I'm just about to excuse this as exhaustion and get back in the car when a loud pickup truck screeches up next to my vehicle, their high beams temporarily blinding me. A large figure jumps out of the driver"s side and stalks over to me. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, and when they do, a man around the same size as me is getting my face. The unmistakable look of murderous rage on his face is directed at me. What the fuck did I do?

"Where is she?" he snarls, grabbing me by my shirt and shoving me against my car. I allow it only because I don't know how many friends he has in his truck, and I need to be in one piece for Indy. Plus, if I break my hand again, Mama J will murder me.

"Dude! Where's who? I'm by myself!" Holding my hands up in mock surrender, I notice the doors open at the front of his truck. Three more, perfect. All built just like him, and they have the same angry looks on their faces. I can hold my own, but fighting four large men is asking a bit too much for anyone.

"I know you're helping that dumbass hillbilly bitch steal my chicken!" He accuses while jerking me by the shirt. I knew I wasn't hallucinating! What in the actual fuck is going on? Who steals a fucking chicken? Or gets this mad over a stolen chicken?

"Sir, I can assure you, I haven't seen a hillbilly or a chicken, or a hillbilly with a chicken. I did, however, nearly hit a deer, so I pulled over to calm down." I state as I look at his dirty fists, still clenching my shirt. I mean, it's fucking Hugo Boss, asshole. Can you not fucking wrinkle it? The man lets me go, shoving me against my car as he backs away from me before signaling to his buddies to get back in the truck.

"I find out that stupid cunt is around here, and you're helping her. I'll beat that pretty face of yours into existence."

"I think the correct term is non-existence, bud. Clearly, I'm standing here, existing." Smirking, I gesture to myself. I probably should've kept my mouth shut, but I can't just leave that alone. The man slams his meaty hand on the hood before pointing at me.

"You think this is funny?" He snarls, and I shrug casually.

"Kind of, yeah."

"When I find her, I'm going to wring her skinny little neck and make her bastard kid watch." My face falls, and I'm about to say something, but what can I say? I don't even know who the woman is. The safest thing I can do is continue to play stupid. The man hops back into his truck before punching the gas and flooring it toward me. He swerves at the last second before speeding off down the road.

Slowly, I slip back into my car and take a deep breath as the adrenaline coursing through my body starts fueling a panic attack. I touch the screen on the dash, bringing up the number of my best friend, Atlas, and call him while practicing my finger-tapping technique to settle down. It doesn't help, but I do them out of habit.

"H-hello?" The groggy male voice answers.

"Rise and shine, hubby! How are we doing?" My voice oozes with fake perkiness to hide the anxiety, not that Atlas notices; he was obviously asleep. I take another deep breath before merging back onto the road to head home.

"Ash… it's… Jesus Christ, man, it's almost four in the morning," Atlas groans, there's rustling followed by him whispering, "It's okay, princess, go back to sleep, it's just Ash." God, Atlas, and his lovesick obsession with his wife, Ren. I mean, good for them. No one deserves happiness quite like Atlas, but flying solo this past year has been hard. Atlas is married, and our other friend and boss, Fox, is engaged to the co-owner of the tattoo shop we work at, Hel's Ink. And Derek, our fourth amigo, is the king of doom and possibly a virgin.

So, it's just me out here trying to meet up with southern Cali's finest and get laid. No strings, no commitments, no dates. Just getting in and back out.

"Why are you calling me at this god-awful hour?" Atlas says through a yawn.

"Okay, so I'm driving home, right? And as I–"

"You're driving home? At this hour?" Atlas questions, and I roll my eyes. "Did you strike out at last call?"

"I don't strike out." Though the truth is, I'm sort of in a dry spell. It's been three weeks, and for me, that's an eternity. "Indy's at the hospital," I confess, hating to talk about my sick sister, but I know Atlas won't shower me with pity or run his mouth about it.

"Damn," he says softly. "For how long?"

I rub the tight pain in my chest and take another breath. "Probably just the weekend. She's okay, stable. I had to take her laptop and stuff to her, and then I ran into a couple of buddies I worked with at the station, so I didn't get out until late. But anyway," I force myself to sound excited again as I push thoughts of arriving home from work to get ready to go out, only to find Indy unconscious on the floor. "So, I'm driving home, and I see this hot as fuck dime piece running down the street. At, I shit you not, she's got a chicken tucked under her fucking arm!"

There is a beat of silence before I hear Atlas sigh. "Okay, so you're high."

"I'm not high!" I yell while pulling into the parking garage of my apartment building. "I'm serious! I mean, okay, it could've been a duck—wait, no! The guy that tried to beat my ass said chicken! This was definitely a chicken."

"Yeah… uh, huh. Good night, Ash, don't let Mama J find out you're fucked up this close to work." Atlas hangs the phone up before I can respond, and I'm left again in the suffocating silence, alone with my own thoughts and feelings.

I look at the elevator that will take me to my quiet, empty apartment. The thought causes me to rub my chest again. I grab my phone and pull up a hookup app. Maybe I can find a late-night booty call so I don't have to be home alone.