10

The smell hit him as he reached the second floor of the three story house. It reeked of stale sweat, urine, alcohol, and Daryl didn't want to know what else. The two doorways of the narrow hallway were swung open with sunlight pouring in. He carefully peeked into the first room. Empty. The second room was a bathroom, and he was disgusted to see a syringe laying on the sink top. He slammed that door shut, and hoped he might wake the house's inhabitants. The stairs began to narrow as he ascend to the third floor. The stairs led to a single open room that might have been an attic. However, it had instead had been converted into some sleazy brothel-like setting. Two unmade twin beds lined the rooms far end, and close to the top of the stairs a queen sized bed was tucked into the corner.

Daryl could just make out four bodies tangled naked bodies together in the bigger bed. "Merle?" he whispered.

There was a grunt.

Fuck this. "Merle!"

The yell shook everyone awake, and Daryl watched as a girl comically rolled out of the bed. The other two scrambled around, revealing the other Dixon boy lying beneath them. They rushed across the room and began yanking on their clothes. Merle sat up slowly, yawned. "Aw, come on, girls, you don't gotta leave…"

One of the girls stopped and stood with her hand on her hip. "Merle Dixon," she shot angrily, clearly the spokesperson for all the females in the room. "We are not show ponies! I cannot even believe what went down last night I-" her eyes fell on Daryl finally. "You're his little brother?"

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Don't turn into him," she said airily, tossing her head toward Merle. "Be nice to a lady," she advised. "Don't load her up with shots and then act like an asshole." She shot Merle a look.

Merle shrugged. "I'm nice to ladies. I don't see any here. Yeah, I'm an asshole," he continued. "But I ain't the one crawling out of an assholes bed, standin' in the middle of the room in a g-string. Makin' a scene like a third rate whore-"

"Merle! Jesus, shut up," Daryl interrupted. He raised his face to meet the girls. He hadn't even been looking at her because he felt embarrassed enough for all of them. "Can you just get your stuff and get out?" he asked. "All of you, please?" At the please, the girl nodded and led the other two from the room. His eyes darted back to his brother, still lying in bed with his hands resting behind his head. "You don't have to be an asshole all the time, you know."

"Sure, I know. It's just easier. Sometimes more fun." Merle saw the skepticism in his brothers eyes. "You'll see," he warned. "I go with what I know, and I'm good at it. You will too."

Daryl ignored him. "What are you doing here?"

Merle's bloodshot eyes danced. "Wanna know exactly?" he saw Daryl open his mouth to say no, but he continued anyway. "Well, first I set up Charlene and Maryann over there to start and told them to-"

"I need clothes!" Daryl finally yelled.

"Hold your honey-suckled horses, Darylina," Merle groaned. "Hand me those jeans." As Daryl retrieved the pants, he eased himself up on the bed. Daryl tossed the jeans across the room and Merle squeezed himself into them. He stood up, stretched. He turned to face Daryl and saw his brother mouth hanging open. "The fuck you staring at? You look like this now, too," he muttered. "Just go by the house and get some clothes, you didn't have to come here."

"This is where you've been staying?"

"Sorta. Willie keeps the beds so no one drives home, don't care if anyone stays."

"I want to stay here," Daryl insisted.

"This ain't no place for you," Merle insisted, his voice getting louder. "It looks fine now, but it gets wild. There are men here that make dad look like a saint," he said softly. He cast an eye out the window and noted the sun. "If you're gonna go get clothes, I'd go now. Dad gets off work about when the sun goes down." He noted his little brother was biting his bottom lip, something he did since forever when he was anxious. "I have an idea. You take my bike on home. Leave it there. Get your stuff and get out."

"Can't I come back here?" Daryl pleaded.

"No. You stay home or you stay in that damned boxcar," Merle growled. He nudged Daryl back toward the stairs. "Now go, hurry up. I got shit to do, too."

Daryl let himself drift down the stairs and glanced at the clock behind the bar. If he left now, he could just make it to the high school as Sadie was getting out.

"Hey, kid, you got something to say to me?" Willie asked.

Daryl knew he was expecting an apology, and probably deserved one. He took this moment to embrace Merle's asshole philosophy. "No, I don't," he answered with a sneer as he walked out the door.

The key was still in the '72 Bonneville chopper. Daryl figured that no one would steal it for two reasons. One reason was that the bike used to belong to a skin head a few counties over. Merle got it real cheap because of the SS insignia engraved on the gas tank. Some people may be offset by the Nazi influence. The other reason was that everyone knew that that bike was Merle's. Merle made sure everyone knew it too, customizing it beyond belief and finishing it off with unnecessarily high handle bars that Daryl could barely reach. Merle roared around town on it and it was his pride and joy.

Daryl swung his leg over the bike and strained his arms a bit to wrap his fingertips around the handlebars. The engine roared to life and Daryl felt himself smile. As he tore through the streets, anyone would have assumed it was Merle. He neared the front of the high school and his classmates all turned at the sound of the engine. He swung into a circle and backed up to the curb. He took this opportunity to slam down the kickstand and lean against the bike like a hotshot. He scanned the entrance for Sadie. As he did, he noticed with smug satisfaction that some of the passing girls did actually check him out.

"Hey, Dixon!"

Daryl turned to see a kid about the same age as him winding up a punch. Daryl instinctively threw his hands up, and breathed a sigh of relief when the kid dropped his fists.

"You ain't the right Dixon."

For once in his life, Daryl was thrilled about this. "Sure ain't," he said angrily. "You're lookin' for Merle."

The kid shrugged nonchalantly. "One Dixon's as good as the other, right?" The two were interrupted by Sadie.

"You're a bit late for class, Daryl," she said dryly. "I see you've met my brother. This is Jesse."

Daryl was still unimpressed. So he chose to just ignore him. He gestured to the bike. "I came to see if you wanted a lift back… to, uh, my place?"

Sadie grinned. "Hell, yeah, I do!"

"Sadie Marie Pinkman, you do not get on that bike!" Jesse warned. She ignored him as Daryl climbed on. "That thing is a shitty rattling death trap!

Daryl gave her moment to get on, and involuntarily leered at Jesse as Sadie wrapped her arms around him. "You're a shitty rattling death trap, motherfucker," he shot as he started the bike. He gunned the engine and sped off with one hand steering while the other offered a single finger salute.