Dallas Winston sat down at the card table, cluttered with empty beer bottles and full ashtrays, as he ripped open the first envelope. It was from his sister Jodie who was almost a thousand miles away in Chicago.

He took out it's contents; a couple of $50 dollar bills and a folded note. Hie eyebrows raised as he looked at the cash. Usually it was no more than $20, but he welcomed the surprise. Pocketing the cash Dally proceeded to open the letter which was written on a food stained piece of scrap paper.

Dal,

This is everything I got you right now, it needs to last you a few months. My boss is saying that my stomach is getting too big to continue stripping so this is all you're getting until this baby comes. I'll send you a letter when he get's here though, maybe a picutre too, who knows.

I hope you're doing okay. Make sure to stay out of trouble.

-Jo

Though he was one of seven children, Jodie was the only one he still kept in touch with. He would write to her from jail and when he was released she sent him some money every month or so. Even though they didn't have the same father, Jodie knew that Jack Winston wasn't going to do Dallas any favors, he never did their mother any. He was too busy shooting up to take care of even himself. Independence and distance were the two things Dallas wanted though, even if he didn't approve of his fathers drug habit he never complained too much about it. He was just waiting for the day the old fuck would finally overdose.

Dally picked up the next envelope that was waiting for him on the table. There was no return address and he was intrigued. It was rare for him to receive mail, let alone from an unknown sender. Usually it came as fines from the police station, other times from buddies who were stuck in the cooler and didn't have any other company, but rarely was it from anonymous.

He tore into the envelope and pulled out a lined piece of paper. Before he read it he looked to the bottom of the page, seeing who the sender was. His heart almost stopped and his chest became tight. Signed neatly at the bottom of the page was the name Charlie.

Hey Dally it's been a while since we last talked. I hope you're doing alright in Oklahoma. Listen, I know you told me not to but I got caught up with the Street Rats. Things got worse after you left and you always told me to protect myself first right?

It's been to much for me, theres to much going on. I need to get away from it all. Cliff almost died last month, did you know that? He got shot outside of some bar who fucking knows why. Everyday people are fucking shit up and everyday someone else dies from being gunned down. I fucking hate it here in New York man I need to get out. I need to come visit you down South okay? Write back to me at the address at the bottom.

Your brother, Charlie

Dallas sighed, tossing the letter onto the table. He reached into his shirt pocket grabbing the pack of cigarettes and book of matches that lived there. Lighting up his smoke he thought of New York. It had been two years since he left that life behind. It's been two years since he's heard anything from his brothers.

Cliff was shot huh? He scoffed and shook his head. I'm surprised the bastard isn't dead yet.

Exhaling a cloud of smoke, Dallas reclined in his chair, kicking his boots up onto the card table. He thought about Charlie moving down here. It would be safer, thats for sure. Tulsa has it's fair share of gangs but you're never more than 20 minutes from cow country if you ever needed to get away. Maybe the fresh air would do the kid some good. Tulsa was gritty, but New York was straight dirt.

But where would he stay? He couldn't stay with his father, hell, Dally could hardly stay with him. Dallas looked around Buck's place. The midmorning sun streamed through the dirty windows, illuminating the dust and smoke particles that swirled lazily in the air, giving it a hazy quality. Chairs were strewn through out the rooms and beer bottles littered every surface, these were what remained from last night. This was no place for a kid.

Dally was lucky that Buck let him stay here, but he knew that he was an exception. There's no way Buck would let a 13, wait shit, 15 year old move in. The only way that he could make this work is if the kid came down with a decent amount of cash, then they could figure something out.

After searching for a pen and a sheet of paper, Dally wrote his reply. He tucked the letter into his back pocket and headed off for the Curtis house. Darry had a stamp and an envelope, right?

After sifting through Buck's mail for a few weeks, Dallas finally got a reply. Charlie agreed to bring down $200 to Tulsa. He just needed some time to get the cash. Dally told him to take as long as he needed to, he wasn't going no where, besides an unexpected vacation to the cooler.

Correspondence between them went dead soon after he sent that last letter. Dally thought that maybe if he stopped looking everyday for a response than maybe it would come. A watched pot never boils right? For the first few weeks he brushed it off, maybe the kid was busy. Maybe he got a job to save up. Then, those weeks turned into a month. Then two months went by. And Dallas was pissed.

He gives this little shit head a chance to escape that hell hole and he can't even reply. He's probably throwing it away. Dally would have killed for someone to give him this chance when he got the fuck out of there. Instead, Dallas was left to his own defenses. He saved up enough for a one way bus ticket, packed all of his shit into a small duffle bag, and rode down to Tulsa alone only to wind up at his old address, where inside waiting for him was his father passed out on the couch with a needle in his arm. If he ever hears from that little punk again he's gonna let him know exactly what he's giving up.

Dallas got his reply three months after he sent his last letter. It was in a letter from Jodie along with a newspaper obituary she included.

Dal,

Mom sent me this and I thought you should know about it too. Our little brother Charlie died a few weeks ago. He was holding up a grocery store when the owner shot him. They found him with like $150 cash in his pockets so they think he robbed another place too. Mom didn't know much about it but she thinks he was getting ready to run away, why else would he have that much cash on him you know?

The baby should be coming in the next few months, I'm thinking about maybe naming him after Charlie.

Stay out of trouble,

-Jo