Well, after some not-too-gentle shoving, I am updating this! Thanks to everyone who's still with me. By the by, Danny was nominated as the Best OC over at GG&SC awards. Check out the link on my profile and wish our dear Dannyboy luck!

Disclaimer: The usual.

CH10

"That's all? You've got to be fucking kidding me."

I was starting to think Tim was imbalanced. I get him business in the north where he had never had business before, and no matter how much I brought him, he still found it wasn't good enough. But his boys could sell down here and he was practically clicking his heels together. Maybe it was just me. I seemed to have that affect on people.

"Tim, I told you it was going to take time. This isn't the kind of venture that picks up over night."

"I'm starting to think that washing my hands of the north side might just be easier," Tim sighed, rubbing at the knot his brows were making together.

I didn't say anything, figuring if Tim did give it up, it would solve everything. But I knew Tim too well. He just read over my figures and threw the pad of paper on the desk.

"When's your next drop?" Tim asked tiredly.

"Tonight. Jack Wyatt is on his second order," I added, in case he'd forgotten.

"I'm coming."

It was about time that I started letting Tim come with me. It was essential so that I could set him up for the fall. Still, I couldn't afford to look like a push over.

"You want to come?" I asked, forcing myself to sound skeptical.

"Enough with the bullshit you keep feeding me about the north side leaders. They can't all be blood thirsty killers and sadists."

I shrugged. It really depended on who you talked to. I talked up the bad things, making it out that they were too tough to even think about Tim's shit, let alone deal with it.

"This time, I go, or you don't go, and then you'll be out. Get me?" Tim asked and I sighed.

"Ok. I'll bring you on a trial run," I told him.

"Blake," Tim warned.

"Can I go now?"

Mr. Dawnson was going to have my ass as it was. And that was completely truthful.

"Yeah, scram," Tim ordered, waving me off.

Thank you Lord Timothy Shepard, I thought sarcastically. Man, and people thought I was full of myself.

I left Tim to his business and began the long walk to the diner. I should have been there half an hour ago, but Wyatt had me on the phone for forty-five minutes and then Tim wanted to Pow-Wow before he'd let me go anywhere. I was going to be over an hour late by the time I walked in the diner at this rate.

As it was, Lucy was the only one out front when I walked in. I figured Lily was at the stove. She took up for me a lot these days. I hadn't been in much, and when I was here, I hadn't been doing all that much, either. In fact, I spent most of my time expecting Mr. Dawson to fire me. He should have at least three times over this past week alone. But nothing had changed. I was grateful, but at the same time, I knew that it would be easier in the long run if he would just get rid of me. Once I was done getting Tim well and completely screwed over, I was going to get as far away from the south side as possible, and saying goodbye to this place and the people in it was going to be the hardest part.

What? You thought anyone screwed over Tim and stuck around where he could find them? That was just suicidal. No matter how much I may have liked the diner, a job wasn't worth that.

"Why do we even bother having a schedule again?" Lucy greeted.

"Hi Luce," I sighed, walking in.

"You are so late that you missed the boss," Lucy chided and I felt like rolling my eyes at her. "And thank God for that, because he was in one hell of a mood."

"Sounds like any other day, Luce."

"Stop calling me that, Dakota!"

I ignored her, going into the kitchen. As predicted, Lily was behind the stove, wearing my apron and flipping burgers. That apron fit her well, but it did nothing to hide the bruises on her arms.

I felt like sighing. Two weeks ago, Tim was no match for her. But now, she wouldn't even raise a finger about her Soc fiancé who liked to tug her around like a rag doll and slam his fist into her face when he was drunk. We'd all heard the story about the Greaser she planned to marry who died over in Vietnam. It was a damn shame that she was settling because she was afraid of being alone. Hell, alone was better than the abuse.

"Howdy stranger," she greeted cheerfully, like that was going to keep me from noticing what she was hiding. "Want to take over these burgers so I can go and get Kate on a break?"

Ah. I had thought she looked more pissed off with me than usual, and this sure explained it.

"She gets pissy about that shit." I shrugged, going over to the sink to scrub my hands.

"Oh, speaking of people getting pissy, you missed your dad today."

I frowned. Yeah, I would get pissy over that. I liked seeing my dad. I hated it when he came all the way down here to see me and I wasn't even here. But he had already been here this month, so I wondered why he was here so soon.

"Did he say why he was here?" I asked and Lily nodded.

"He said something about you coming home on Sunday."

I nodded. Lily looked confused. I didn't blame her. She knew I was stuck with Pop, so it was odd for Dad to come by and say something like that. But Sunday made five years to the day since my mother had died.

It was always hard the anniversary of the week she died. Pop was easy on me, scarily so. Evelina picked up the pace on torturing me and Pop didn't seem to care at all. Evelina was vicious and I ended up truly hurt. I'd learned to be scarce during those days, usually hiding out at the club house. But by the next week, Pop would be back to normal, and everything would be better.

I laughed to myself. It was a really bad when normal Pop was preferable.

Lily was watching me with a frown, like she wasn't sure what I was going to do next. I just offered her a shrug and turned to the stove.

"Go spell Lucy before she comes in here and kills me," I told her.

Lily sighed, setting the flipper down and untying the apron. It only had to be wrapped around her once, where I had to double the strings. I snatched it away from her and tied it deftly, ignoring the look she sent me.

I was left alone in the kitchen for most of the day, seeing Lily often, and Lucy when she brushed through to go and take a break out back. It didn't bother me. I really wasn't in the mood to annoy her, and that seemed to be the one thing I was good at when it came to Calligher's cousin. And honestly, I wasn't surprised when it was already six and Tim was leaning on the front counter, Calligher at his side.

Yeah, that seemed about right.

I sighed, taking a breath before I took my apron off. Once it was off, I was done being a cook, done being Danny, and back to being Blake – the worst person in the world.

"Don't start that," I chided myself. "Just get through tonight."

I steeled myself and walked out into the diner, letting Tim and Calligher tail me, like I was the goddamned boss for once. As soon as I was outside, I had a cigarette between my teeth, sucking back on the thing sharply. Whatever drug those little sticks put in my system was welcomed as I let the breath of smoke go, automatically pulling on the cigarette again.

"Blake," Tim growled a little.

"He's not expecting me for an hour. I have time for a cigarette," I told him, taking another drag.

"We should grab something to eat, too," Calligher suggested. "My treat?"

I didn't bother replying, knowing full well I wasn't the one being asked. Tim just growled again, clearly less than happy. This was why the guys up north didn't like him – it was only an hour that he had to wait, and already he was probably ready to tell both Calligher and I where to go. He didn't have any patience for this business. Mostly, it was because I had the control here. He was an impatient control freak. But had this all been his plan – his set up – we'd get our heads beaten in if we didn't follow it exactly the way he dictated it. I was sick of double standards with people.

"Come on, a meal would do us all some good," Calligher coaxed.

Calligher could read Tim, too. He was really good at distracting him when he got like this. Already, I could see the cogs in Tim's head moving as he considered it.

"Fine. We'll hit up The Dingo. Give ourselves an alibi on this side of town."

I didn't comment, just followed the pair of them to the car, and then into The Dingo. Tim ordered cokes all around when we sat down, and it was only ten minutes after we sat down that we were all eating burgers and fries. Well, Tim and Calligher were eating, while I was picking. I hadn't expected the meal, so I'd been stealing from the diner all day. Some fries here, a couple pickles there, and even a sandwich when I was sure Lucy was on a long break. Lily never begrudged me anything, but today I hadn't felt like drawing any attention to myself. It was just easier when my head had been on the upcoming meeting all night.

"I'm paying for that, so you better eat it," Tim ordered, even though I expressly remembered Calligher offering to pay.

"Sorry," I offered, even if I didn't feel all that guilty. I'd seen Tim throw out food he'd paid for when he wasn't hungry.

"Just eat it," Tim huffed, shoving the last of his meal into his mouth.

Calligher watched him eat, looking over with a raised eyebrow. "Are you sure you don't want me to come along tonight?"

"Jake," Tim said the name in warning. "We're not talking about this here."

Calligher wasn't too bright about these things, either. If you were establishing an alibi, you didn't discuss other plans while you were doing it. I did want Calligher there, though. He kept Tim from doing dumb things. But this was a small drop, and if Tim lost it, well, it would work to my advantage later.

I just ignored him, finishing my meal. I felt sick after it was down, over full. That was never a good thing when you had to look tough. I'd manage, but it wouldn't surprise me if I ended up throwing up later.

As it was, I was still feeling disgusting when Tim and I finally made it to Jack's place. Now, Jack Wyatt wasn't a gang leader. Jack was a bar owner on the north side. The place was a hub of activity for everything illegal you could imagine. Because of the place's reputation, the fuzz came around often, but Jack had been playing the game far too long to let a couple cops take him out. Clearly, he had the most clout when it came to moving product on the north side, but he was holding out on Tim. He didn't want nor need Tim, but he was smart enough to know that whatever was going down, it was in his best interests to keep an eye on it. Jack had always done what was best for Jack, and he'd still be doing it long after Tim was old news.

Jack and Chet went way back. Jack was older, but he treated Chet like they were equals. A lot of Chet's business made its way through Jack first, so there was no doubt in my mind that whatever Chet's plan was, Jack was in on it. The man was too wise to play games, but he was playing this one.

The bar was already busy when we walked in. Guys played pool, guys sat at tables with liquor in their glasses, there was a live guitarist strumming lazily in the corner, and everyone looked completely relaxed. I knew that if trouble started, even Tim would be able to see how on guard they really were.

Tim, luckily enough, was acting like I was in the lead on this one. He stood to my left, looking around, not moving past me, even though I had stopped in the middle of the floor for no apparent reason. I felt my lip twitch a little. It was fun to see Tim out of his element.

I strolled over to the bar, nodding at the guy standing behind it. He nodded back, setting a beer down in front of Tim and I. I couldn't stomach hard liquor, and I wasn't much of a fan of beer, but I was willing to sit and have a couple sips for show.

Tim sipped his own beer impatiently, tension coiling every one of his muscles. He shifted a lot, clearly irritated with this. No one had ever taught Timothy Shepard patience. When I was halfway through my bottle, I set it down and glanced at Tim out of the corner of my eye.

"Go hit the head. I'll follow you in five minutes."

Tim sent me a look, clearly restraining himself from telling me off. But he did get up, picking up the bag he'd brought in, and made his way to the back. I sat, not bothering to drink anything from my bottle. Five minutes passed, and I shifted from the stool, easily making my way to the back. I thumped on the bathroom door in passing, not bothering to look and see if Tim got the signal. I just kept on for the back stairs. My steps were dogged all the way up.

I had barely knocked when Jack called us in. He was sitting behind his desk, looking for all the world like he was an official businessman. He smiled a bit, barely noticeable. Well, it was nice that someone was happy to see me.

"Hello, Daniel. Prompt, as usual."

"Jack," I replied. "This is Tim Shepard."

It was a needless introduction, but it gave me something to fill the air with. Jack didn't even spare Tim a glance. He just leaned back in his chair and looked me over like I was amusing him with this little farce. Yeah, well, at least one of us was enjoying himself.

"Did you bring me what I asked for?" he asked and I nodded. "Then I have what you want."

I had nearly forgotten about the bag Tim had been carrying. I didn't like carrying a bag around, but since Tim was going to end up in the fire anyways, I didn't see the harm of putting extra evidence in his hands.

Tim hefted it onto the desk, earning a look of calculation from Jack. But, like I was allowing things tonight, so was Jack. He pushed up from his chair, and opened the bag to inspect what was inside. He looked at it carefully. A moment later, Jack flicked out his switch, pushed his hand into the bag, and came out with the end of the knife showing off white powder. It was with practiced ease that Jack pressed his finger to the powder on the blade, and brought it to his mouth. The small taste was just that – a taste. It wouldn't do a thing to him. I was glad he was the one tasting it. I wasn't sure I could handle that tonight.

"Alright." Jack nodded, opening a drawer on his desk and pulling out a brown envelope.

He dropped it on top of the bag, letting us decide who was going to pick it up. It was like everything – Tim always got first pick. So I didn't bother reaching for it. Tim swiped it off the desk and had it in his coat without counting it. That was the first smart thing I had seen him do in ages. The last thing he wanted was Jack Wyatt feeling insulted.

"How fast will it take you to go through that?" Tim asked, breaking his silence.

Jack sent him a look I knew well enough. Tim had asked a valid question, but the way he's asked it made it sound like Jack was the one who was going to be snorting all of it. Chet wouldn't have a thing to do with him if he did drugs. I was the only exception there. So, naturally, Jack was affronted. I'd known him long enough to see it in the way he set his shoulders.

He sat back down, not bothering to move the bag of product. "I'll be in touch, Daniel."

I knew a dismissal when I heard one. I turned to go, but Tim was still standing there. Oh, that was never good.

"I asked you a question."

I glanced back in time to see Jack look up. Tim had his attention from the moment he walked into the room. Now, he had his focus.

"Tim."

"I will let Daniel know when the bag is empty," Jack replied, avoiding directly addressing Tim.

"Come on, Tim," I tried again.

Tim got the hint – he wasn't going to win. He snapped on his heel and started for the door.

"Daniel?"

I looked back at Jack in surprise. I'd thought I was dismissed for sure.

"Next time, come alone."

I nodded, following Tim back downstairs, and straight outside. Neither of us spoke, even when Tim got the car going and started driving like a lunatic. Tim loved fast driving. Heck, Curly and Angela loved it, too. They'd got that from their dad because Evelina sure as shit hated it if we went a tick over the speed limit.

Tim's fast was too fast for me. I gripped the door hard, keeping from skidding along the front seat. I should have known enough to put on a seatbelt or something. I was relieved when he came to a sliding halt in front of the house. He killed the engine and pinned me with a look. He was getting better at being intimidating; but then, he'd had a very trying night.

"What the hell was that, Blake?" Tim snapped.

"A meeting."

"I told you I want to be able to deal with guys like him!"

I felt like sighing. Tim just wasn't on the same level as they were. He never would be if he had these little fits whenever he didn't get his way. That was the difference between a lifer on the outside, and a lifer on the inside. With the way things were going, Tim would probably end up in prison sooner than even I expected.

"Tim, I told you what they were like," I reasoned. "They don't like outsiders. The really don't like ones who are watched by the fuzz, either. You're just lucky you have me."

I climbed out of the car then, but Tim was right behind me, rounding the car so that my route was blocked. I sighed, guessing he still had something he wanted to say.

"I am getting really sick of you."

"Oh, really? You're not a ray of sunshine, yourself," I growled back. "And you're pretty damn stupid if you think that they're ever going to take white trash like you seriously."

The punch came so quick I didn't expect it. Suddenly, my eyes were watering and my nose felt like it was out of place. I had it cupped between my hands, amazed that Tim had lost his cool enough to hit me. We were step-brothers, so of course we'd fought before. Mostly, it was when we were younger and I had more of a chance against him. I'd lost all urge to mess with him after getting beaten by my father for a long enough period of time, and Tim had either picked up on that, or managed to grow up enough to let me be. I'd just shattered whatever peace was between us, and I couldn't bring myself to care.

"Let's get one thing straight. You came to me. You need me," every word was forced out and drawn between us. "Keep it up with this attitude, and I will end our arrangement. And if the drunk kills you next time, good riddance."

Tim turned for the house, and I watched him go. My nose was still throbbing, but my eyes were back under control. I took a long breath, feeling the bridge of my nose, before pushing it back in line. I groaned through it, feeling like my nose was a metaphor for my whole life – blindsided and broken whenever I let my guard down for thirty seconds, and fixing it was a royal pain.

When my nose stopped throbbing, I glanced up at the house, feeling angry. Tim needed me. There was no way he was going to make any headway on the north side without me. I didn't need him. I could get around Pop, but there was no way Chet wasn't going to suffer from Tim's dumb ass approach to dealing on the north side. So in reality, Tim needed me, and Chet needed me, and I was willing to do a lot for Chet – including putting up with Tim's shit.

I kicked the back tire of his car in retaliation, even though it didn't pay for a broken nose, and it didn't really make me feel all that much better. That was ok. When all this was over, we'd be more than even, and I was sure that'd feel pretty damn good.

Well, another chapter down!

Any comments at all are welcome, and flames accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens