Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns the Outsiders and all of it's characters
The day after his Twentieth birthday, Tim Shepard wakes up with a hangover, a girl he doesn't really care for in his bed, and a shitload of things to do. He sits up and runs a hand through his tangle of black curls, sighing. The girl shifts a little, her tan skin a contrast to the bright white sheets. He thinks her name is Janice or Janine or Jane, but he can't remember it very well. We wasn't really focused on her name last night, when he was drunk and as carefree as he ever got. All he had been thinking about then was a certain part of her anatomy.
But now, he wishes he could remember; he's find girls are easier to get rid of girls painlessly when you know their name. He doesn't remember last night to well, but he knows this broad is confident and thinks a lot of herself; it's hard to turn chicks like her down, because they take it as a personal slap to their pride, and tend to avoid any future meetings.
He gets out of the bed, his back cracking. The bedroom of his small house is cramped, and he hardly has room to get dressed in the space between the bed and his dresser. He doesn't keep much in their- some jeans, a few shirts, and two jackets- but it was the cheapest dresser he'd found two years ago, when he bought this place.
The girl moans slightly as she wakes up, stretching and pulling the sheet up to cover her chest. He can't see why she bothers- he's seen it all last night.
"Morning, babe." her voice is sweet at honey, but he really doesn't care. She was good, but boring, and no sultry voice is going to change that.
"Morning." he replies, hunting through his drawers for some socks. He finds them, and slides them on, followed by shoes.
"You going somewhere?" she asked, frowning.
"Yep." he pops the 'P', before grabbing her clothing from the floor and tossing it to her. "I got business to take care of." he says. He heads towards the bathroom in this pitiful excuse for a master bedroom, and the girl pouts some more. He thinks her lips might just fall out if she tried turning them further down.
"What about me?" she asks, trying to sound seductive but instead sounding insecure and confused. He kind of pity's her.
"This house," he begins, as he prepares to close the bathroom door, "Ain't to big. I'm sure you can find your own way out." with that, they're separated by the thin wood that is the bathroom door. He stopped feeling guilty about that sort of thing a long time ago. That broad knew what was gonna happen, but she made the choice to follow him home, and that ain't his problem.
Besides, most chicks know by now that Tim Shepard doesn't stick with the broad he sleeps with. So if she didn't know that, that ain't his problem.
When he's cleaned up, he stumbles all the way to the kitchen, and begins making some coffee. The chick has disappeared, which is good, because he hates dealing with the stubborn ones. He once knew a broad he'd had to physically guide out of his house- it had been annoying,and had put him off redheads for a while.
He downs the coffee in less than three minutes, knowing he needs the energy; unfortunately, he wasn't lying when he said he had business to take care of. He has a few people to meet up with, and a few things he needs to get from them, and then he's got to make sure thees things end up in the right hands.
He's out of the house by nine AM, an astonishing feat for a hood who's just celebrated his birthday and who people expect to be walking around drunk all day. But Tim ain't never been the kind of guy who puts off things that can be done right then. And this could be done right then.
His old Chevy somehow rumbles to life at the fourth turn of his key. A friend of his- Gary Oldman, is good with cars- he ain't no mechanic, but he could probably fix this piece of junk. He makes a mental note to talk to Gary about it, and drives towards Tulsa's north side.
Catherine Hillside is thumbing through bills when Tim walks in to the dingy place she runs. The peeling paint on the door reads Olivia Carlton's antique books, but he knows no one searching for reading material would come in here. He also knows Olivia Carlton is long gone, just a name adopted by Catherine.
He isn't shocked that some blond broad is in the shop to, sitting in one of the large chairs- Catherine always has her nieces and daughters from her multiple ex-husbands hanging around here for company. He is surprised to see one of the dusty books that are mainly for show open in her lap. Tim is hardly stupid, especially about chicks- he knows they like to read. It's just that this one looks like one of 'em half greasy chicks, the kind who dress like the girls on this side of town, if the girls on this side of town gave a damn about being slightly modest. Most girls with greaser habits tend to avoid the books.
She looks up and their eyes meet, and he swears she give him a hateful glare.
"Timothy Leroy Shepard, it's nice to see you, darling." Catherine smiles at him sweetly. Good old Cathy is really something, as anyone who's met her can tell you. She has a massive figure, and Tim always wonders how she fits in this narrow shop. Her hair is dyed a red color to light for her dark eyebrows and tanned skin, and she likes to dress in exuberant colors that really shock anyone she comes across. "Now pay attention, Marilyn," she says, turning to the platinum blond in the corner, "This is one of my best clients."
Marilyn smiles kind of sarcastically.
"I'll bet he is." she says, her voice filled with scorn. Catherine rolls her eyes as if to say what an I gonna do with her, but turns her attention back to Tim. Catherine isn't to tolerant of rudeness, which means she must like this Marilyn, or the younger girl would have gotten a piece of 'ol Cathy's mind. Tim has been on the receiving end of Catherine's lectures, and now he tries to keep her in a good mood.
"I take it you're here for your order?"
"Yes, Ma'am." He doesn't usually call anyone Ma'am, but when the phrase was directed at Catherine, it was kind of a mutual joke. Besides, you don't want to piss Catherine Hillside off, unless you have a death wish.
"Well, you've made all your payments but the last, and you can give that to me later." she turns to the blond again, "Tim Hasn't missed a payment in all our professional history," she say, almost proudly. She turns back to Tim, "And lets keep it that way. I'd hate to set one of my boys on you, hon." she laughs as she says this, but Tim knows it ain't no joke; he knew a guy who didn't make his payments, and he don't know that kid any more.
"I've got the payment with me, and you'll get it when I get my stuff." he say's coolly. He trust Catherine, but he's a business man.
"And we're about to get it to you. Marilyn." Catherine nods towards the door, And Marilyn gets up reluctantly, muttering something about deserving some pay. As she walks, Tim notices shes got a great ass, and she seems to enjoy shaking it around, because theirs no way that much movement is accidental.
"Who's kid is she?" he asks, when she is safely out of the room. Catherine lets out a loud laugh.
"Mine, would you believe it?" Tim would like to say that no, he wouldn't, but lets her go on. "Never thought one of my kids would be so pale. I swear, she's an albino. And she's tiny. That comes from her dad- my second husband- he was real small and so is she. Of course, his size is why I ended up divorcing him. Ha! But She's a hell of a lot smarter than my other kids. To smart to pull half the stunts she tries. I swear she does it all to piss me off."
Tim can relate; until a few years ago, when she straightened up and started going with that Curtis kid, Angela was like that- wild and reckless, and did most of the stuff she did to push limits.
"I swear, if any of my girls are gonna be the death of me, it'll be that one. Just last night, she gets home at two AM, hops of this boys motorcycle, and walks in like that was nothing. And I heard from one of her sisters that she's going with Simon Carpenter, of all the lousy hoods." she looks up at his face, "No offense."
"None taken." he says dryly, right as Marilyn Comes out of the back room, with a large cardboard box with some Phony Book company's name plastered on it. He looks at her closely- she's a real looker, if you like the mean type of broads, and like her Ma said, she's pale as all get out. She's got a good figure and legs a mile long, but she's real skinny and Tim figures she'd break if you fucked her. He doesn't have to wonder what a chick like her is doing with Carpenter, the head of the River Kings.
She shoves him the boy and he pulls a folded envelope from his pocket, handing it to Catherine the moment the box is securely in his hands. And turns to leave.
"I'll see ya' 'round, hon." Catherine calls. He turns and nods at her one last time before leaving the shop. He knows he won't come to that location for a while, in fact, if all goes well, he won't be in there for a very long time.
He figures everything is going to be going a lot better.
And he feels kind of smug. He's like to see the look on that pretty little face Marilyn's got when she realized the RK's are hardly on top of this town.
He smirks. He thinks his twentieth year will be his best yet.
So, tell me what you think. I worked pretty hard on this, so I'd love some reviews.
