Anoki and Friends

She spent many of her nights setting fire to dumpsters. When she first started, she would flee immediately after starting the blaze. As time went on, she’d stay longer and longer. Ashe would sit and watch the fire burn itself out. She loved the orange light, the warmth, the dancing shadows it cast. She would stay right up until the flashing blue and red lights of the police bounced off the alley walls.

It was in one of these instances that she met Jesse McCree.

In Ashe’s humble opinion, it was one of the best fires she had ever set. Something in the dumpster happened to stoke the flame just right. The blaze roared to life, reaching heights she had never experienced before. For a brief moment, she worried that it might set the building behind it on fire. Then suddenly--

“Hey there, darlin’.”

Ashe felt her soul leave her body.

A young man stepped out from the shadows of the back alley. Ashe had no idea where he had come from or how long he had been there. She looked down at the lighter in her hand, then up at the fire she had so obviously set. Before he could say another word, Ashe took off running.

She had so much as reached the end of the alley when she felt a presence behind her.

A calloused hand gripping her arm.

A strong force pulling her back into the shadows.

“Get your dirty paws off me,” she bit out through clenched teeth, elbowing the man in the stomach. He didn’t flinch. Ashe looked up at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was focused somewhere else, somewhere Ashe couldn’t turn to see because his grip was iron around her arms. “What the hell are you looking at? I said let go of me!”

“Shut up, will ya? Do you wanna get caught?” the man said in a rushed whisper. The sound of voices approaching made Ashe panic. It took all of her willpower not to break free and take off running. Three cops walked right by their hiding place, not bothering to look into the shadows.

“Another one? That’s the fourth time this month,” one of the cops said as he looked at the dumpster fire.

“Looks like we have a serial arsonist,” another said.

“So long as they aren’t burning down houses, right? Call in the fire boys, there’s nothing else to do here.”

As the cops chattered away, the man tugged at Ashe’s arm. He beckoned for her to follow, pressing one finger to his lips. They slipped out of the alleyway through a gap in the fence Ashe had never noticed before. When they were well away from the scene, Ashe let the floodgate of emotions go, and to her surprise, so did the stranger.

“What the hell did you think you were doing back there?” He demanded.

“Me? I should ask you that! Who taught you your manners? Grabbing a lady like that. It’s not proper. Were you raised in a barn?”

The man sneered, “Lady? I don’t see no lady. All I see is some rich chick gettin’ her rocks off on settin’ fires.”

“I’m not just “some rich chick.” My name is Ashe and I do more than set fires,” she said with a scowl.

“Really? Well, Ashe, my name’s McCree. Jesse McCree. I’m sure you’ll find that I do more than rescue damsels in distress like yourself, too.”

Ashe clenched her teeth to keep from saying something nasty. She didn’t care if this “McCree” saved her ass from being put in jail. There was something about him that rubbed her the wrong way. The set of his jaw and the look in his eye made her want to punch him. Before she knew what she was doing, she said, “I can prove it.”

Jesse let out a choked laugh, “Yea, sure you can. An’ pigs can fly.”

The overwhelming urge to prove herself, to show her merit, rose up in her very being. It replaced all feelings of panic, adrenaline, and anger. She looked at Jesse with earnest. He seemed taken aback by the fire that was struck within her. He let out another laugh through his nose, “Alright, you can prove it, but I ain’t savin’ your ass this time,” he said. He looked up at the brightening sky, “But for now, we better part ways. Meet me back here tomorrow night,” he said.

Just like he came into her life, he was gone with the blink of an eye. Ashe was left feeling nauseous at the realization of what she had agreed to do.

—

Ashe leaned against a wall smoking a cigarette. She tried to act casual, but couldn’t help her shaking hands or shifty gaze. A calloused hand grabbed her shoulder and she jumped, dropping her cigarette on the ground. She looked up at Jesse with a gaze that could start fires.

“Try not to look so guilty. I could tell you were up to no good a mile away,” Jesse said, picking up her cigarette and putting it in his mouth. His face twisted in disgust and he threw it over his shoulder, spitting on the ground. “Shoulda known you smoked cloves.”

Ashe smirked, “Well?”

“Well, what? You’re the one that’s supposed to prove yourself. What’re you gonna do? Steal a purse from one of those high-end stores? Bust a window?” Jesse said, then leaned in closer, “Fall in love with a dashing cowboy?”

Ashe pressed her open palm against Jesse’s face and pushed him away. He stumbled backwards, catching his balance last second before falling on his ass. Ashe inclined her chin and looked down at Jesse with a glare he could only describe as pure evil, “Listen here, cowboy. I’m calling the shots. You’re just along for the ride. Watch and learn.”

Ashe turned on her heel and walked away. She smirked when she heard Jesse follow.

Just like a dog on a leash, she thought.

Ashe lead Jesse down the sidewalk. She had thought long and hard about what she was going to do. She didn’t want to get caught, and if she did, she didn’t want the bail to be astronomical. Her parents could barely care about her in the first place, but if she cost them thousands of dollars in bail, well...Ashe reckoned they’d start to care right quick.

They stopped in front of a dilapidated house. Jesse raised an eyebrow at her, but Ashe was too busy digging through her bag to notice. She pulled out a bottle stuffed with a rag and a lighter. Jesse’s lips twitched in an attempt to not burst into laughter.

“Hey darlin’, I thought you said you did more than light fires?” he asked.

Ashe didn’t say a word. Instead, she flicked her lighter to life, touching the flame to the rag. She turned to Jesse and smiled. The fire cast her face in shadow and light, highlighting that maniacal grin and blazing eyes. It sent shivers down Jesse’s spine. She threw the bottle at the dead bushes in front of the house.

Jesse would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little scared and a little turned on. While Ashe didn’t prove she could do other things, he had to admit this was pretty badass. The flames lapped at the old, abandoned house, easily catching on the rotted wood. They stood there together watching the fire rise and engulf whatever it touched.

Jesse reached out to touch Ashe’s arm. She jerked away, taking her eyes off her masterpiece to glare daggers at him. “Don’t get any ideas, cowboy,” she said. Jesse smiled sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders.

Just as they decided to leave, the cops descended on them. This time, they didn’t use their lights. One moment Ashe and Jesse were alone and the next they were surrounded by officers. Jesse looked like a trapped animal, ready to lash out and bite anyone who approached him. Ashe heard him mumble something about “not going back there.”

“Jack, honey,” Ana said, her voice slow and pointed, like talking to a child. Gabe smirked. He knew Jack was in for it. “Mothman is from Virginia. We are in Los Angeles.”

“So?” Jack huffed, crossing his arms. He may as well have pouted his lip.

“So, we’d get more flack than praise for a California Mothman,” Gabe said. “Let the Virginians have their bug dude. You’re not fitting this ass in spandex.”

“Fine, then what’s your idea, huh?” Jack challenged.

Gabe stroked his goatee in thought, setting the laptop onto the coffee table. He got up to look at the idea board Jack had on the wall. It was covered in pictures, post-it notes, and push pins. They’d covered plenty of hauntings, alien encounters, the occasional cryptid.

“I don’t want another episode where one of us is the monster just yet,” he said. He ran his fingers over the corkboard, stopping at one of the images tacked there. “How about werewolves?” He pulled down the picture of a hulking, hairy beast.

Ana laughed, leaning back in her chair. “Gabe, werewolves? How is that not one of us dressing up?”

“Hear me out, pendejo,” he huffed. “There’s been reports of bizarre animal attacks up in Big Bear. It could be a two-part episode. The viewers eat that shit up.”

Jack steepled his fingers, leaning forward on his elbows. “Go on,” he said, drawing out the ‘o’ sounds.

“So, we take a trip up there. It gives me a chance to get some shots of the scenery and take a break from heavy editing,” Gabe said, going to sit with them around the kitchen table. “We get some exposition. Plant some footsteps, or pawsteps, or whatever.” He waved his hand. “Really set the mood and shit. Then we end on a cliffhanger.”

Ana still looked skeptical, her brow knit in thought. “Okay, but who will be the werewolf in the second part? It would be odd if one of us disappeared after being there for the first half.”

“We can get Jesse to do it. He’d barely need any makeup,” Gabe said.

“McCree? The guy that talks and dresses like he’s in a John Wayne film?” Jack asked incredulously. He leaned forward farther, encroaching on Gabe’s personal space. “The guy who is still undeclared in our junior year?”

“Can you name a better werewolf, Jackie? Or are you volunteering?” Gabe asked, leaning forward to challenge Jack in his space.

Jack elevated his chin, keeping eye contact with Gabe. He grit his teeth. He knew that Gabe was right, but he didn’t want to admit it. The editor drove him up a wall and challenged him at every corner. Sometimes he just wanted to punch that sly smirk off his face.

Gabe was relentless. He wanted Jack to know that just because he was gorgeous (come on, anyone with eyes could see that) and the head of the trio, he didn’t get final say in everything. Gabriel had dealt with plenty of his kind. While he wasn’t a jock, he was still that type of person that thought he could bat his stupid blue eyes and get people to conform to his will.

Ana sighed, rolling her eyes. “Are you two done posturing?” she asked, waving a hand in front of her nose. “It reeks of testosterone in here.”

“Once Jack stops being a diva,” Gabe said. He crossed his arms, eyes never leaving the blond.

“Me? A diva?” Jack said, clutching a hand over his heart. “I’m hurt, really.”

Gabe reached out and flicked Jack’s nose, making him scrunch up his face. The tension dissolved as quick as it arose.

They bickered more than she and Jack did. They were both so passionate and sure of themselves, it was natural for those energies to clash every so often. Ana loved how they could have a heated argument, then reset like nothing happened. Even if they were to beat the hell out of each other, they’d end up laughing it off.

Jack grunted, crossed his arms, and leaned back in his chair. Gabe took it as a victory. He poked his tongue out at Jack, who flipped him off.

“So, Jesse is our werewolf?” Ana asked.

“On one condition,” Jack said.

Gabe quirked an eyebrow. “Let me guess. So long as he dresses up as a werewolf and climbs into bed with you?”

Jack’s face reddened. “N-No! Why would you say something like that?” he stammered. “I was going to say so long as we can use his van to drive up there!”

Ana pulled a disgusted face. “Let me get this straight. You had an issue with Jesse coming, but you have no issue climbing into the back of his van. His van that smells like stale Pabst, cheap cigars, and In-n-Out?”

Jack put his hands up, the blush on his cheeks slowly dissipating, “Hey. If you want to use a ride service to get there, feel free. Sorry, Gabe, but your motorcycle and my shitty junker aren’t going to cut it.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t totaled your pickup,” Gabe grumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Gabe said. “We leave for the forest this weekend, then.”

--

Getting Jesse on board was easy. Gabe showed up to his dorm room with a case of beer (carefully smuggled in) and a box of cigars. He knocked on the door. There was a clatter and a groan from the other side before the scruffy face of Jesse McCree peered out at him.

“Oh, hey Gabe,” he drawled. He was shirtless and clad in boxers, his cowboy hat casting his face in shadow. His eyes immediately landed on the six pack tucked under the editor’s arm. “Whatcha need this time?” he asked, opening the door to reveal his room.

It never failed to make Gabe balk. The man lived in chaos. There were clothes, beer cans, and fast food detritus everywhere. Jesse clicked his tongue, taking the beer from Gabe. “C’mon, now. You always look like yer about to implode every time ya stop by.”

“Jesse, there is a pair of underwear on the ceiling fan.”

“Oh, that there is,” Jesse said, snatching the boxers down and tossing them into the corner.

“What does your roommate think?”

“Who, Genji? Half this stuff is his,” Jesse said, kicking aside a pair of neon green boxers before plopping down on his bed. He pulled one of the cans from the plastic rings, cracking it open. He tipped the can toward Gabe. “So, what can I do for ya?”

“Well, uh…we need a werewolf for the shoot this weekend,” Gabe said, sitting beside Jesse, careful not to touch any of the stains on the sheets.

“Werewolf, huh?” Jesse stroked his beard, taking a long sip of the beer. “Dunno if a six pack a’ Blue Moon is gonna cut it.”

Gabe sighed, taking the pack of cigars out of his pocket. He threw them into Jesse’s lap. The cowboy beamed, turning the pack over in one hand. “You know me good, Reyes. You got yourselves a werewolf.”

“We also need your van.”

“Figured. Wasn’t no way Jack would have me along without my baby. How is Jackie boy doin’, anyhow?” Jesse asked, watching Gabe out of the corner of his eye.

Gabe flexed his jaw and crossed his arms. “He’s good. Still an asshole. Still stupidly good looking,” he said measuredly, unsure what Jesse was looking for.

“Sooo...you tapped that yet?”

Gabe thought he might actually combust. His face heated and he tugged his beanie down over his ears, hiding their red sheen. He glared at Jesse, who was smiling around the rim of his can.

“Fuck off,” Gabe snapped. “Jack is just an asshole friend who happens to be hot, like you.”

Jesse raised his arms and shrugged his shoulders. “I’m flattered, doll. But if you don’t, I will.”

Gabe snorted, rolling his eyes, “Jack wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole. It was hard enough convincing him to let you come.”

Jesse winked, crumpling the now empty can in one hand. “He just ain’t seen me lay on the charm.”

“Have at him, cowboy. I bet he shoots you down the first time you wink at him,” Gabe sneered.

“You got a bet,” Jesse said, punching Gabe in the arm. Gabe smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

—

The back of Jesse’s van smelled like bad decisions. The white panel van was painted with a desert mural on one side, while the other had “It’s High Noon” scrawled in towering font. The back of the van had shag carpeting that reeked, and the only seating was the front bench made of peeling red vinyl. Gabe was crammed in the back alongside Ana and their equipment. Jack was at the wheel, not trusting Jesse to get them there without a near-death experience. Jesse rode shotgun, not trusting Jack to drive his baby.

And, Gabe thought, to “lay on the charm.”

Jesse leaned close to Jack, talking in hushed tones. To Gabe’s surprise, Jack smiled and laughed.

“Gabe, you’re brooding,” Ana said, resting a hand on Gabe’s shoulder. Gabe grit his teeth, prying his eyes away from Jesse’s courting. He looked at Ana, who had one eyebrow cocked at him.

He rolled his eyes. “What? I brood. It’s what I do. When am I not brooding?”

“I can name a few instances,” she said.

Gabe held his tongue. He ran his hand across the dingy shag carpeting. He tried not to think of what was hiding in between the pieces of red fabric. He looked back at Ana. “He’s winning the bet.”

“What bet?”

Gabe cast a glance at the duo, making sure they were too busy to pay them any attention. “I bet Jesse that Jack would turn him down as soon as he even tried any of that charm shit.”

Ana rolled her eyes. “Never make a bet with that man, Gabe. He’s been gambling since he popped out of the womb.”

A sudden crooning came from the front seat. Jesse had his feet propped up on the dash, a cigar in his mouth and his head back. He belted out the lyrics to Hound Dog at the top of his lungs. Jack laughed along and tapped his fingers to the beat. Ana couldn’t help but laugh. She clapped a hand over her mouth.

Shoot me, Gabriel mouthed. He fell back onto the carpet, the film equipment prodding into his back.

“Jack, you better stop at the next scenic pull-off before Gabe melts into the shag,” Ana said over Jesse’s raucous singing.

Jack gave a thumbs-up in the rearview mirror.

When they came to a halt, Gabriel threw open the back doors, almost throwing himself over the side of the cliff that overlooked LA. He scowled at Jesse as he loped over to the edge. Gabe briefly debated pushing the cowboy off.

He decided murder wasn’t something he was prepared to go to jail for and grabbed his camera from the back of the van instead. He toyed with some of the settings before turning it on and panning across the view. If they had had more time, he would have loved to do a timelapse.

Gabe shooed McCree out of the shots, since he was supposed to be their werewolf. He got a shot of Ana leaning over the rails, looking off into the distance while her hair blew in the wind. She turned toward the camera and smiled, as though she had been caught. It made Gabe grin from ear to ear.

He panned the camera to Jack. He looked like a Boy Scout troop leader. All blond hair and blue eyes and tanned skin. He sat on the rail with his legs dangled over the side. Gabe was afraid he might fall, but the blond man had a sure grip on the rail. He leaned back on his hands and tossed Gabe a look over his shoulder. It was a cocky grin, one he was used to when they were getting into trouble.

Ana pressed into Gabe’s side and craned her head to look at the digital image projected on the camera’s screen. She smiled and pinched his side. “Your turn,” she said as she took the camera from him. Gabe shot her a glare, but didn’t argue. He disliked being on camera, but couldn’t object to making a cameo in some B-roll shots.

He leaned against the rails beside Jack. He took out a cigarette and lit it up. The smoke wraithed around his face and obscured his features. He smirked at the camera as he flicked his ashes toward Jack, who laughed and took a jab at Gabe’s shoulder. Careful not to send Jack sailing over the side, he grabbed the back of Jack’s shirt and gave him a tug. Jack lost his balance and tumbled back onto the ground. He glared up at Gabe, who was taking another drag from his cig.

Jack grabbed Gabe’s ankles and yanked them out from under him. Gabe landed on his ass with a momentous thump.

“Smoking kills!” Jack said between gasps of laughter.

“Yea, and I’ll kill you after that!” Gabe said and flicked his cigarette to the side. He grappled with jack on the ground, getting him in a headlock. Jack bit his arm, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make Gabe wince. “Hey, that’s dirty!” he laughed, not relenting his grip.

“Like you fight clean,” Jack said through grit teeth.

“Tell me in the best editor ever and I’ll let you go,” Gabe said, unaffected by Jack’s squirming.

Jack huffed, his hands in Gabe’s arms in an attempt to pry them off. His eyes flicked up to Ana, who was still rolling. He bit the inside of his cheek and grumbled.

“What was that, Jackie?”

“You’re the best editor…” Jack said louder.

“Ever.”

“Ever,” Jack sighed and rolled his eyes.

Gabe released Jack, earning a punch to his arm. Jack rubbed his neck and laughed through his nose. Gabe gave him a shit-eating grin and flipped him off.