The Fall

1956

The whole operation was nothing more than an accident; it was never supposed to get as big as it did. When their parents died, leaving the two oldest boys in charge, ends weren't meeting. They were never a particularly wealthy family in the first place, but after both sources of income were lost, money was hard to come by. The oldest Carson boy, named Cash, got a job. It was enough to pay the rent, or put food on the table, or pay the bills. Never all three.

The middle boy, Zane, was still in school and fell into the wrong crowd, not unlike most teens do after losing everything. He got involved with the River Kings. They were a pretty well known group, and one of the only actual organized gangs besides the Tigers. There was plenty of partying; girls, booze and drugs. Exactly what Zane needed to take his mind off of things.

One day, sitting around the Kings' headquarters, Zane overheard a couple other boys talking. They were getting ready to do a sell. They were rare, seeing as the Kings' preferred to keep the drugs to themselves, but when they did happen, it brought in major dough.

"Nah, man, I told you; I don't do drug runs." One of the boys, John, said, shaking his head. The other boy, Allan, was starting to get mad. Being in the gang meant obligations. Everyone has to do some things they don't want to sometimes. But Zane was quick to jump in.

"I'll do it." He volunteered. Both boys looked at him for a minute.

"I'll run it by Max." Allan said. Max was the main man. He had final say so over everything. Zane wasn't too bothered by that. He and Max were cool, they'd gone to school together and he'd been one of the first people to reach out and take Zane under his wings after the death of Zane's parents.

Max had agreed, of course. Allan took him into the basement, where the magic happened. A few guys were standing around, doing their respective jobs. One guy, Steven, turned around when they walked in. He just nodded his head to whatever was in front of him.

"This is about ready. Just have to cut it." He said. What was in front of him was pure cocaine. 'Cutting' meant that he was going to mix in another product to make it look like there was more than there actually is. He would mix in talc or baking soda or something like that. That way, you can buy eighty bucks worth of pure cocain, double it, and sell it for a hundred and sixty. And no one would ever know the difference. Most people hooked on coke don't care.

That's how it started. Holding a backpack with a hundred and sixty dollars in it, and not having to work for hours on end for it. It was like a dream. He didnt get to keep all of it, of course, but still. Zane went home and told his brother that night that he had it figured out. He knew how to make it so that they never had to worry about getting kicked out, or going hungry or paying the bills again.

Cash had told him right away that he was off his rocker. There was no way they were going to start manufacturing coke. That was a lot of jail time if they got caught. Not to mention their parents would probably be rolling over in their graves.

"Come on, Cash, we do it long enough to catch up on the bills and stuff and we get out!" Zane was practically begging.

"Listen, buddy, fifteen years in the pen ain't my idea of a good time. That's a big pill to take and I'm not tryin' to swallow it." Cash was half pissed that Zane would even suggest that. About that time they heard the sound of little feet coming down the hallway. They turned to see Ryder, only nine at the time.

"Bubba," She spoke to Cash, "I can't sleep."

She was rubbing her eyes sleepily as she climbed in Cash's lap. "What's wrong, doll? Did we wake you?"

"No, bubba, I'm too hungry to sleep."

Cash felt his whole heart shatter to pieces. It wasn't right. She was just a baby. She shouldn't have to go through all that she has. That was the turning point for him. His whole world revolved around that little girl; and if it meant she could have everything she deserves, then that's what needed to be done. He laid Ryder back down in her bed, whispering to her that it would all be okay soon. He told Zane about his decision when he returned to the living room, and they never looked back.

May 1965

That was nine years ago now, business had boomed. The Carson boys were now the largest distributors in Tulsa, and the number showed. They had a name in the streets, and money galore. The operation ran twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. It wasn't just the boys now, though. They recruited a few guys that were so loyal it didn't make sense. They weren't anything to play around with, either.

The warehouse was guarded by two guys at the only entrance, armed and ready to empty a clip at the first sign of trouble. There were a few more that helped distribute their products. In the beginning, it was only cocaine; now, they made a few extra dollars selling weed also. Lots of hippies floating through the area.

Ryder was seventeen now, nearly eighteen. It was really rare for her to distribute. Her brothers wanted her to stay out of it as much as possible. When she did, it was to regulars. The Shepard gang, Buck Merril, Dallas Winston; just to name a few. It wasn't that her brothers didn't think she could handle her own. No, she could handle herself well. They just didn't want to put her at any more risk than they have to. If anything happened to her, it would be their downfall. After all, this was all for her.

Ryder knew this, too. She remembered those nights after their parents died, never getting any sleep; either because of nightmares or the hunger, but most of the time both. She remembered all the times they would really get up and going, then be back to square one after someone broke in their house and all the droughts.

It was a scary business, too. She didn't know anyone yet who played this game and won. One of the reasons their operation was so big now was because the streets are thin...everyone's getting caught. But, they were hoods, they didn't have too many options. The only thing you can do this far in is pray; pray that you don't wake up with the police in your house with guns drawn on you and indictment papers out.

One run that she always did was to Tim Shepard. He refused to do business with anyone else. He said its because she was the only one he trusted. She was pretty sure it's 'cause he thought she was hot, but either way. She was fine with his selective-ness. They were buddies, her and Tim. They both had real bad tempers and tended to get into a tousle every now and then. But one thing about Tim is that he's loyal; if he's on your side, he'll kill for you. And that's the kind of people you want around in this game.

The Carsons ran a close business relationship with Shepard's gang; kind of a mutualistic relationship. The Carsons offer Shepard's gang free drugs in exchange for a little protection and the right to sell on some of their turf. Shepard wasn't too hesitant to oblige; his gang wasn't really a drug dealing gang anyways. Either way, the Carson boys agreed to deliver to Shepard whenever, whatever.

Which is why Ryder was on her way to Buck Merril's at 2:45 in the morning. They usually make runs at night, but Ryder tried not to be out this late. But they owed Tim a favor, and he called it in. So, there she was, driving across town in her Corvair. If it was anyone but Tim, she would've told them to go right to hell. If it was anyone else, her brothers would've done it for her. They were a little difficult to convince, but she talked them over. It was just Tim, after all. A little rough around the edges, but all together harmless towards his girl friend.

Upon arriving at Buck's, Ryder was only half surprised that the party was still going strong. Buck answered the door, smiling when he saw who it was.

"Well, if it isn't baby Carson. Man, are you a sight for sore eyes." He said, leaning against the door. She rolled her eyes, but smiled anyways.

"Now, Buck, you know you wouldn't be talkin' like that if Cash and Zane were here! I came to see Tim." She said lightly, pointing a thumb at the backpack that was slung over her shoulder. He laughed and nodded, letting her in, telling her which room she could find Tim in.

A few people stopped her on the way up to talk, but she just pushed through, saying she'd be back in a minute. After finally getting upstairs and to the right room, she pushed the door open, not bothering to knock. She froze when she saw Tim sitting on the bed.

_
Ryder POV

Tim was wincing an almost unnoticeable amount while he dabbed a long slice from his shoulder to his elbow. It had stopped bleeding for the most part, and didn't look all that deep, but it had to still be painful.

"Holy fuck, Timmy, what'd you do this time?" I sighed, tossing my backpack on the bed next to him. He glared out of the corner of his eye as I unzipped it and looked for the right stuff.

"What makes you think I did something?" He paused as I pulled the coke out, "It coulda' been someone else starting it this time."

"Yeah, but it wasn't was it?"

His lack of answer was all the answer I needed; of course Tim started it. He was just an asshole like that. Couldn't help it, I guess. He just shrugged noncommittally like he didn't really care what I thought. Hell, he probably didn't. I know he didn't.

"You know this ain't for me, right?" He asked, holding up the little bag. I just gave him the most unimpressed look I could manage.

"You know I really don't care, right?" I raised an eyebrow and he kind of smiled. He hated when I sassed him like that, and I knew it; he also knew that I knew it.

"You get mouthier everyday."

"I say what I want because none of you pussies are going to punch me in my mouth to shut me up." I smiled sweetly, doing my best to keep from giggling at the way his jaw went kind of slack for a split second.

"Shit, kid, I'm stupid; I ain't suicidal." The only run in Tim had ever had with her brothers is when she and Tim were in their freshman year of highschool and Tim tried to put the moves on her; resulting in a broken nose and a few shattered ribs, courtesy of Zane Anthony Carson. Though that'd been years ago, I suppose Tim never was one to forget a good beating.

"Well, the way you're wrapping that cut without any disinfectant or anything says otherwise." I said, shoving his hand away and grabbing the first aid kit out of my backpack. When you're around tough guys as often as I am, it comes in handy.

I went to work rubbing the cut down with alcohol wipes. Tim swore and called me every name under the sun. As I wrapped it up in gauze, though, he'd quite down, just looking at me as I worked. I let my hair fall around my face to hide the blush that was creeping onto my cheeks. His eyes left a trail of fire everywhere they went, one I could feel all the way down to my bones.

"Alright," I cleared my throat, standing up quickly, "All done."

He smiled, "Thank you."

It was low enough that it could hardly even be counted as a whisper, but it was still a thanks. Tim didn't hardly thank anyone, ever. To an outsider, it would be astonishing. But to us, that's just the way our relationship is. We're closer to each other than we both are to other people. It's easier that way; not being too close to anyone. Everyone you love leaves. I learned that the hard way. But me and Tim, we just clicked. Maybe something about the way we both ride and never worry about the fall.

"Now, you gonna come down here and dance with me or what?" Tim was my honorary dance partner for whenever I come to Buck's. He smiled at me.

"Sure, sure, doll-face. I'll dance with ya'." He got up, throwing his arm around my shoulders. It always gets me kind of tickled how he tries to make it sound like he's doing me a favor, like he wouldn't drag me to the dance floor if I didn't suggest it first.

We made a pit stop at the bar and Tim ordered us both a couple shots and a mixed drink for me while he settled for a beer. It wasn't my intention to get drunk tonight, but if I was going to, it might as well be in the best of company. We did our shots, chasing them with more alcohol. I giggled when the buzz hit me only a few seconds later. What a lightweight.

We danced for quite a while, the buzz turning into full on drunk as I finished my drink. My inebriated mind couldn't help but admire Tim. He was a doll, really. Maybe too tough for a lot of people, or scary even, but he wasn't all that bad. He had a real James Dean cool-ness about him that a lot of greasers dream about having. His stormy eyes held the same mischievous squint and his crooked grin could bring kingdoms to their knees. It was no wonder he was so powerful.

When Tim got drunk, he didn't usually act any different than when he's sober. Tonight though, maybe he'd been drinking long before I got here. Maybe he'd never been quite this drunk before. Tim Shepard didn't do 'cute' stuff; he was all tough, man and a hurricane in his best mood.

That being said, I was incredibly surprised when Tim suggested we sit outside for a bit and watch the sunrise. I agreed, of course. Nothing better to do. It seemed a little soft for Tim, but I wasn't keen on mentioning it and getting pounded into next week. So I just sat on the bench next to him, leaning our heads back against the brick building and watching the sky change colors.

Tim looked over to me, our eyes meeting like a stormy ocean and a clear one.

Youth is like diamonds in the sun
And diamonds are forever young

If I could have paused that moment, I would have. Looking at him, unguarded and open, it was like looking at a different person. In that moment, I wasn't the sister of two drug kingpins whose parents died before she got to know them. Tim wasn't some hood without a cause who stays in trouble because he has nothing better to do. We were both just kids who had to grow up too fast. The thought stopped me in my tracks. Why can't we stay young and happy forever?

Tim closed his eyes and I wish he hadn't, because when they opened again they were back to Tim Shepard's eyes. Just as if the last few second had never happened. That's really all it had been...a matter of seconds that Tim let his guard down. He stared at me for a minute, studying. For what, I couldn't tell you; whatever it was, though, he found it.

Tim's kisses were like his fighting. Smooth and calculated, but so overwhelming and all at once that you feel like you can't catch your breath. A large part of me wanted to push him away, like I always do whenever someone gets too close. A larger part wanted to pull him closer.

So I did...I pulled him closer, so close that there wasn't a single inch of my body that wasn't pressed to his. I was practically in his lap, hands threaded through his hair, and it still wasn't enough. He deepened the kiss and I swear I saw heaven and angels and god.

I can't tell you exactly how we wound up in a bed, but I can tell you that by the time we got there, I was halfway out of my mind. After he laid me down, he must've asked if I was sure about what we were about to do, but the only response I gave was popping every button on his shirt and tearing it off his shoulders. I would feel bad in the morning, but in the moment I didn't really care.

He was more gentle with me. His hands were soft as the traced from my hips to my ribs, rucking my shirt up. I held my arms up so he could pull it off the rest of the way. His eyes widened the smallest bit when he saw that I was bra-less, but he recovered quickly, leaning down and planting soft kisses over my breasts and down my stomach. He hooked his fingers into the waist band of my shorts, pulling them and my underwear down at the same time.

My breath hitched and I sobered up significantly as I realized what was about to happen. It's not like I was a virgin. I had a boyfriend before, but that had ended pretty badly. It was more about the fact that it was Tim that I was about to do this with. I couldn't afford to get attached to anyone, and I knew that's exactly what would happen if I went through with this.

But I didn't stop him. Not when he finished undressing me, then himself; not when he reached between us, opening me up with his fingers. Not when he finally, finally pressed into me, slowly and then faster as I adjusted. He was never anything but gentle, and it brought tears to my eyes. I was glad he kept his face buried against my neck.

We made love twice. The clock beside the bed read 8 AM when when I finally fell asleep, tangled up with Tim. It was the best sleep I'd had since I was a kid. Most nights I woke up at least two or three times because of the nightmares.