Thanks for the reviews! Standard disclaimer applies.
Again, sorry for the wait; packing up for college has proven more stressful than I though.
Part Six
Tim loves Curly in the way he loves fights. He doesn't really enjoy it, but there's something in his blood that forces him to keep going.
"I swear to god, you try something as brain dead as that again and I'll put your face through a meat grinder," Tim growls as he pulls Curly away from the eight very pissed, very bloody socs the dolt had tried to pick a fight with.
"It would be an improvement, if you did," Red chimes in, kind of unhelpfully.
If Tim and his inner circle hadn't been driving by just as Curly and his two pals (neither of whom were part of the gang, or had a snowball's chance in hell of getting in, whatever Curly promised them) had been about to be pummeled by the guys, they would have gotten a good look at whether the alteration to his face would have been a nice one.
Curly had Tim's basic look, except the parts that made it attractive, and Tim's basic demeanor, except for the things that made him intimidating.
Thankfully, Tim and his boys had evened the numbers out, and the fight had been easier than expected.
"Come on, Tim, lemme go."
Curly yanks his arm back with all his weight just as Tim complies, sending the kid to his ass. His two friends snigger, but shut up when the five older boys around them give them a glare that clearly says you're lucky it isn't you.
They're in an alley near a few shops now, and the tension is kind of high.
"You two get lost," Tim tells Curly's friends. The blonde guy looks like he wants to protest, but his friend nudges him, and they leave.
Whit is leaning against the wall, and Will is sitting on a dumpster. Red and Quill flank Tim, facing Curly.
"Some pals you got," Quill says, as Curly stands and brushes himself off.
"Shut up, asshole."
Curly reminds Tim in a mink. A mean, angry mink with tough hair and a small brain.
"You're the only one who needs to be watching your trap here, Curly. Your mouth is gonna get you stabbed." Red has always been comfortable with tearing into Curly like he was his own brother. Tim wishes he'd treat Angela more like a sister, but that's for another time.
"Fuck you-"
"Cut the shit."
Curly turns to his big brother.
"They were asking for it-"
"No, you were. And if you were any less lucky, you would have gotten it."
Curly glares at the ground.
"I don't know what I have to do to get it past your thick skull that there ain't a single tough thing about getting into a fight you can't win."
"Really? Cuz you fought Dally all the time."
That was a dumb thing to say; Tim's fist connects with Curly's jaw. The boy falls, again.
"See? Nothing tough about it. Next time you're about to get your ass handed to you, I'll let it happen. Until then, you can stop coming to gang meetings."
That shocks everyone, and Curly's head shoots up.
"Tim, you can't."
"Yeah, I damn well can."
"I'm a fucking Shepard, you can't kick me out of the Shepard gang-"
"You ain't out. You're taking a break. And if you want off vacation, get your shit together."
Curly looks like he wants to fight, but Whit pushes off the wall, and while the gesture may not seem threatening, something about it just is. Whit has always freaked Curly out for reasons Tim can't discern. He guesses that it's because Curly doesn't know Whit, so maybe his cool, quiet behavior seems like it comes from a place of danger rather than thoughtfulness.
"Whatever, man. Fuck you."
He leaves in the same direction as his pals. The five boys stand there for a moment, before Will speaks.
"Your brother is a real shit pot."
"He just feels inferior. He needs time to grow into his own, away from you."
Tim, and everyone else, looks at Whit like he's crazy.
"What he needs is a good kick in the teeth, if you ask me," Red chimes in.
Tim raises his brows at him, and Red holds his hands up in mock defense.
"Just if you're taking suggestions."
"What do you mean about the whole inferior thing?" Will asks. Hopping off the dumpster and joining their little circle.
Whit explains, never taking his eyes off Tim.
"Imagine you had a brother who was better than you at just about everything. You want to make them proud, but you don't know how. So you try to be them, but never can, and you get a little resentful. And it's a cycle, where you try and fail and get more and more bitter so you try again. Curly needs to find an identity separate from Tim or he'll never stop failing."
"Wouldn't it be better if he just didn't fail?" Quill asks.
"Man, Curly's middle name might as well be failure." Red says.
Will frowns.
"I thought it was Albert?"
"Look, this isn't the point here-" Tim begins, but then their conversation is cut off by a deep, sultry voice.
"Well, wold you look at that. A bunch of hoodlums in an ally way, up to no good."
Tim recognizes her as Mattie's friend, the looker, leaning against the wall in jeans to tight.
"Gloria, long time no see," Red says with a sort of feral smirk. Tim might be worried, expect this chick looks like she can handle herself.
"Not long enough." She turns to Tim. "You. Look, I'm only gonna say this once, but I've got my eye on you, and if one bad thing happens to-"
"Gloria? Are you down here?"
That's when Mattie rounds the corner, and Gloria's face goes from something you might see in the seconds before you die, to a bright smile.
"Mattie, look who I found!"
She looks real nice that day, Tim thinks. Her hair is curled like a movie star from an old film, and her lashes look like they can cast their own shadow. Right now, of course, she reminds him of a deer in headlights.
"Oh. Um. Hi."
"Hey," he responds.
Everyone stands in confused silence for a moment.
"I never got your number," he finally says, walking towards her, giving off what he's been told is his "cool vibe". He adjusts his shoulders and squares his jaw and apparently looks like he's got a handle on the world. it comes in useful.
"Oh, right. Give me a second-" she whips a pen out of somewhere, girls always seem to have hidden compartments in their bags, "here give me your arm."
He does as she asks and she scrawls, in big looping figures, her number. He wonders if she's doing it on purpose, the way boys will sling their arms around their girls when there's other guys around; to mark them. She doesn't seem like the type, though; she probably just doesn't have paper.
"This'll wash off pretty soon."
"Then you'd better call me tonight," she grins, and he gets another flash of confident Mattie. The Mattie he likes. "I get off work at six."
"Where do you work?"
"The Blue Lady Salon."
"I'll be there. You know my car."
Her brows raise in surprise, and he feels his lips tug up into a smile.
"Well, then, I guess I'll be seeing you."
"I guess so."
Mattie turns to Gloria, who now has an unreadable expression on her face.
"Come on, bus leaves soon. Bye"
With a final look at the boys and a half-hearted wave, the girls depart.
Everyone is silent for a few moments.
"Well," Red finally says, "I think I'm a bit lost. Care to explain?"
"You know what?" he's still looking after her, "I really don't."
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