Ponyboy had never been involved with drugs before--Darry would have killed him. He had paid attention in his economics class, though--enough to understand supply and demand and how to manipulate the market in his favor and maximize his profits.
He'd also overheard enough talk about the subject of selling contraband from the kids at school, and the guys at the DX, and now Tim and Curly, who almost never spoke of much else. He had easily seen that Tim and Curly were making more work for themselves with less revenue than all that trouble was really worth.
Desperate for a way to earn enough money to be able to keep the house, Pony sat down at the deserted kitchen table and crunched numbers and ran over figures again and again until he had come up with a foolproof business strategy to present to Tim and Curly.
"So, you're saying that if we buy more, we sell more?" Curly had asked dimly after Pony had made his proposal.
"And, in turn, make more money," Pony had stressed.
"We've got enough trouble keeping up with the number of folks stopping by here as it is," Tim argued tiredly. "And Buck ain't too thrilled with the foot traffic at all hours of the night."
"So you expand in every way possible. You gotta think bigger than this nickel and dime bullshit," Pony sighed. "You hire people to work under you. You stop driving all the way out to Oklahoma City for the same brick weed that everyone else has and start investing in some quality tree. Bring some class to Tulsa, and you'll have a corner on the market."
Tim thought this over. "Still don't solve the problem with Buck," he pointed out. "He's been breathing down my neck about how inconvenient this is all for him."
"Cut him in," Pony said simply. "If you follow through with everything I've told you, you'll be making more than enough to pay him off for his inconvenience."
Pony smacked the stack of papers with all of his figures on it down in front of Tim as proof that this strategy would work.
Tim and Curly exchanged looks. "What's in it for you?"
Pony bit at his bottom lip. "If I don't start paying the mortgage soon, the bank will foreclose on the house," he told them candidly.
"I see," Tim smirked. "So you're expecting a cut too, then?"
"I was just hoping for a job pushing," Pony confessed, kicking at the ground.
Tim raised an eyebrow at this.
"Obviously you'll be in charge of everything, Tim," Pony said quickly, appealing to Tim's ego. "No one can give an order like you. It'll be easy for you to lead this operation. I just need to make a few bucks on the side."
From the look on his face, Pony was sure that Tim was going to haul off and belt him one. Instead, Tim threw his head back and laughed.
"Somehow, Curtis, I just can't see you dealing," he chuckled. "With your rotten luck, you'll probably get jumped and lose my entire product."
Pony felt his ears turn red. He'd never been much of a fighter, but for Tim to point that out was mortifying.
"The way I see it, you'd be more of a help running numbers, collecting money--you know, that intellectual junk," Tim mused, shoving the stack of papers Pony had presented him with back into his arms. Pony frowned at that.
"Don't sweat it, kid," Tim grinned. "If we're gonna be making as much money as you claim, I'll take care of those mortgage payments."
Pony shouldn't have expected Tim to just go along with his plan. He should have known that Tim would exercise some sort of control over this scheme. At that point, though, he didn't mind taking a backseat to Tim if it meant he'd be taking money in.
Now, the only thing left to do to get their brainchild off the ground was to assemble the perfect battalion. Pony had no idea where to round up such people, but Tim and Curly knew of several lost souls in need of a few bucks.