JJ Hollins

---

I walked out of Mountain View Unit prison and looked back at the door as it clanged shut. I was escorted over to the admin building, where I’d been checked in not so long ago.

I was supposed to be in the facility for two years. But I was well short of that.

There was no mountain in view of the prison. It was home to Yolanda Saldívar, the woman who murdered Selena. It was also home to female death row inmates.

And me. Though, the word ‘home’ was a poor choice. I’d lived there but it wasn’t home. I was 23 years old and – to date – had never lived in a place that could truly be called home.

As I walked alongside Aidy, a prison guard, I looked to the parking lot and saw what I guessed was the car that had been sent for me.

It was all arranged. My mother had told me on the phone how I was getting out after only a few months.

“You do this, it’s not a question: it’s the only job you’re going to get. My brother has done a lot for me – uh, you.”

I knew Mom said it right the first time. I was payment for her debts to her brother. He’d bought a condo for her in Florida and paid her credit cards.

“If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be getting out. That public defender fucked you over. You’d be in for at least another nine months, maybe the full two years. As it is, three months and done, thanks to your Uncle’s lawyer. You do what he says.”

“Which is what?”

“It’s a bartending job. Which you already know how to do. Just don’t be an idiot and get caught with weed.”

“Thanks, Mom, I miss you, too.”

“Look, I don’t need your attitude. You were busted with a bag. I know you said you were getting it for some sick loser boyfriend but no one gives a shit. You’ve got a second chance and it’s thanks to your Uncle. He’s going to pick you up and you can ask him the details.”

“No loving reunion with your only child?”

“You take that ungrateful attitude to your Uncle and see how far it gets you. You think jobs are falling off trees for barmaids with felony records?”

My Mom was mean, always had been, but in this case, she was right. I literally had zero options. I was a great bartender, but I was also damaged goods. What restaurant knowingly brings in a girl with a record? I never stole a dime in my life but still: if I were an owner, I wouldn’t risk me either.

“‘Kay, good talk, Mom.”

“Just do what your Uncle says.”

She hung up. My mother was a toxic individual and I tried to be immune to it but it still stung to have her throw her acidic bullshit in my face.

---

Checking out of prison was just as surreal as checking in. You were monitored every step of the way, told where to go, how to stand.

“Go there, they’ve got your belongings.” Aidy pointed to the counter.

“Thanks, Aidy,” I had grown close to some people in this place. Inmates and guards. I’d also acquired enemies. Aidy was a good one. She’d helped me on my first day, made sure I had a cellmate that wasn’t a violent offender. And now, just when I was getting the hang of Mountain View, I was out.

The clerk handed me a large plastic bag holding literally everything thing I owned. They’d also given me civilian clothing: a pair of khaki pants and a white button-down shirt from a big box store. The whole thing hung off me. I was so glad to see my favorite jeans and leather jacket in the bag.

That leather jacket and good pair of jeans was the only emotional reunion I would get.

“Joan Jett Hollins, you’re a free woman. Here’s one hundred dollars cash. You may use it to get a cab to the bus station. That’s what a lot of people do.”

“Thanks, all set.”

My sentence had been commuted thanks to my Uncle’s attorney, so I wasn’t going to have to report to a parole officer. As far as the State of Texas was concerned, I had paid my debt for buying pot and giving it to a dying friend. That one pound had taken more than a pound of flesh out of my life.

As far as my mother and Uncle were concerned, though, my debt service was just beginning.

I walked through the gates and into the hot late morning sun. I shielded my eyes to look around. I had only met my Uncle a few times. He wasn’t in my life other than when my Mom invoked his name as savior or threat.

But I instinctively knew the car idling in the lot was for me. It was a black sedan, older, but shiny. It was straight out of the seventies really. I squared my shoulders and walked toward it.

I bent down to look inside, and there he was, in the back seat. My Mom was always impressed that Uncle A.J. was the Prez of his MC. Apparently, the president had a driver.

“Get in.” He glanced at me and I opened the door to the front.

“No, back here. We have business.”

I got in the large back seat. My Uncle nodded to the driver and we sped forward. I looked for a seatbelt, but there was none.

“You’re working at a private place. I had to call in a lot of favors to get you this gig. Sent a resume on your behalf even. You’re fucking welcome.”

“Bartending, right?”

“Yep, for the Dark Saints at their clubhouse. They got an emergency opening.”

I wondered if my Uncle or his Devil’s Hawks had caused that opening.

“They’re stupid. They think they can’t be touched, they think they’re so fucking careful and I’m going to inject you right into their heart.”

My Uncle wasn’t looking at me or looking out for me. I was there to serve his purpose. I knew that as sure as I knew I was going into a more dangerous place than prison.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Just be a cute piece of ass. Listen, get the drinks. I’ll text you on this phone, a burner. You’re not stupid; you know when shit’s important. The club Veep, E.Z. is also in my pocket, but I don’t fucking trust him. Keep an eye out. If he slips me information, I want to know why.”

I wasn’t a spy. I wasn’t a cop. I was a 23-year old who could pour a mean drink and had shitty luck.

“I – I don’t even know what to look for.”

“You fuck this up, you better believe we’ll pop you again and you’ll be back inside. Just watch and listen and answer when I call.”

It was the confirmation of what I knew. My Uncle had made sure I owed him. Someone he knew had busted me to the cops for the pot. Uncle A.J. had me like a bug pinned to Styrofoam, and squirming would only make it worse.

“I’m dropping you off here. I can’t be seen in Port Az right now, or with you. You do this right and we’ll get you a job in a nicer place. Do it wrong, well, I fucking told you, you’ll be back inside, or worse, the Saints will fucking kill you.”

My Uncle tossed a wad of rolled up bills at me as I got out. I caught them and looked at him one last time.

“Nice catch. Don’t fucking look like such a goddamn lost puppy. Once you dress the part, you don’t have to work that hard. They all think with their dicks. But hurry up, you’re first shift is tonight at seven.”

That was all the reassurance I got my Uncle.

This was the only family I had: a mother who’d sold me to an Uncle who was ready to sacrifice me for whatever bullshit power struggle he had going between The Devil’s Hawks and The Dark Saints. I meant nothing to any of them.

I flipped through the wad of cash. There had to be at least two-grand in one hundred dollar bills. I caught the bus to downtown Port Az. If I were going to survive, I’d have to put on my armor. I had my black leather jacket, but that was all that looked even remotely right for what I needed to do. I had spent enough time in Port Az to know where to get leather, jeans, and a handful of tight t-shirts for this job.

I also found a small apartment for rent, over the last store I visited, Bohemian Wraps City.

“Here’s first and last month’s rent. I start a job tonight,” I told the owner. She was pretty and had a kindness about her.

I couldn’t afford kindness in return though, even with the two-grand.

“Great, usually it’s too small for people. It was bigger but the hubs split one place into three,” Lyric Wilde, my new landlord explained.

“I just need in it, like now, today. I’m sort of in a jam.”

“You know I should be doing credit checks and all that, but screw it. You’re the only one interested and I know people. You’re a sweetie under that biker chick rocker look. So, what’s your name again?”

“JJ.”

“Enjoy the apartment, JJ.”

Lyric smiled, handed me the keys and then rushed off, called to handle something in her store. I wondered what it would be like to be so open, trusting, and in charge of your own life. I shook it off. I had to keep the tough I’d earned this year and wear it like the leather I’d just purchased.

I went up to my new place, showered, and consulted the bus schedule. I needed to get moving.

It was time to report to work at the Dark Saints MC. It was time to do what I could to figure out exactly what my Uncle wanted from them, and me.