Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders.
I throw the carton down on the table in front of him. I ain't dumb. I know the score. Nothing is free, though being a Mathews and all I can come by most pretty cheap when I want to. "I've got some questions." I tell him and nod to cigarettes I lifted from the store. "Consider this payment."
He flicks the carton and it spins like a top. With a snort, he looks up with this lynx smirk, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. His arms stretch out along the back of the booth.
Honestly, greasers like Dallas Winston and Tim Shepard scare me something awful. When Keith brings him around the house I normally stay out of the way. I don't think I've spoken two words to the guy, and I wouldn't if this didn't concern Minnie. "Two-Bit's sister." Girls normally go crazy for that whole bad boy thing. Personally, I don't see it. What's so attractive about guys who treat the whole world like shit?
He pockets my payment. "Sorry, sweetheart. It's going to take ya something more. You think I go this cheap. Just cause you're Two-Bit's sister don't mean shit to me."
"Don't mean shit to a lot of other people, or even Two either for that matter." I glare at him all stubborn. I ain't here because of my brother and I ain't here because I expect anything from him because he hangs around with my brother. "I came for a fair exchange."
"I can lift my own cancer-sticks." He never loses the smile, but there's something more intense in his icy eyes. I got to hold onto the stubbornness. My heart beats out of my chest and my hands get all sweaty, but I can't tell if it's the fear or adrenalin.
Without an invitation, I sit across from him. "Tell me what you want and I'll get it."
He throws his head back and laughs. "You couldn't get me what I want."
"Come on, Dallas. Haven't you ever cared for anyone?" He looks about ready to deck me at making such an accusation. If I don't tread carefully, Two-Bit's sister or not, he'll kill me and I ain't looking forward to a black eye or bruised jaw. I tense up.
"Care about something and it will make you weak. Get tough, kid, and nothing will touch you." I thought about Angela Shepard. There was a truth to this. There was a reason all the villains of comic books go after all the people the superheroes care about most. Hit them where it hurts and it ain't a punch to the jaw. If this were Angela Shepard, she'd shrug a shoulder. She'd say good riddance and wouldn't give it another thought. She wouldn't bother wasting her time riding some buses to any town she could think of in some half-hearted hopes. And as much as I'd like to live by Dallas Winston's life motto, as much as I'd like to be Angela Shepard, I can't and I ain't.
Desperate and hoping in the black hole in his chest there is some remnants of a heart, at least somewhere very deep deep down, I turn on my best puppy eyes and plead. "I got to know. If someone wanted to disappear from here without anyone knowing, how would they do it?"
"Going to cost you more."
"I ain't got nothing more."
He eyes me for a second. "Why do you want to know?"
"None of your damn business!" But he drums his fingers, waiting for an answer. This is the price for his knowledge. "I know you covered for Two when he broke the windows at the school." His eyes narrow and I go on quicker than he can form the fist or send it flying, "I got a friend in trouble." He doesn't believe me, but he tells me anyway. Hop a train. Where to? He tells me I didn't pay enough for that answer and gets up and walks away. The exchange don't feel like it comes out fair, but then again, Dallas Winston don't strike me as someone who plays fair. And for the first time since Minnie left, I got an idea of where I can start looking.