CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

life strikes a deal with the coming night

For the past four weeks Amara hadn't left Curly's bedroom for more than ten hours before she was back. She only either left because her parents were getting worried or Curly had gang stuff. Other than that, the two were exploring his wonderful Spencer's Special bed sheets. It had happened so quickly, not too long ago the girl was afraid to let him put his h

ands up her blouse; now she was jumping into his bed whenever she had the chance. He was not complaining, he was more than happy, he just hoped it was because she actually wanted to and not because she felt like she had to because she was lonely.

When he had forced her to either choose her socialite friends or him, he hadn't expected it to be this hard for her. None of the girls had talked to her since, or even stepped off their damn pedestals to look her way. If she wasn't with him Amara had no place to be. If she felt sex was keeping him close, she was wrong. He wanted to be there. He had no real idea why, but he cared whether or not she was hurting.

Currently Amara was pressing feather light kisses down his chest, until Tim barged in the door.

"Get your ass outta bed, kid." Tim didn't say anything. He walked out of sight; Curly could hear his boots descending the stairs.

"I guess that's my call." Curly pulled on his jeans and there was a slight pout on Amara's face. He ignored it and followed Tim.

"What're we doin'?"

"I gotta go to one of those hippie houses, kid. But I ain't goin' alone. I hate those places."

Curly went to those places alone sometimes. You could earn a lot of money from just on visit, so if he was feeling tired or just not up for scouting people out; hippie houses were his go-to. He could see why a guy like Tim wouldn't like a place like that, shoot, Curly himself hated them but he could sense it would be worse for Tim. Tim Shepard liked order and direction. Everything their gang did was organized and even anything Tim did alone was organized. He wouldn't even slash a guy's tires before thinking of and plan and every fault and circumstance that could happen. The hippie lifestyle was the opposite of anything Tim believed in. The people practiced "free love" which Curly classified as just screwing whoever the hell you want to screw no matter who or what they were and have no strings, they liked drugs, and they had weird antics that Curly couldn't even explain.

Curly grabbed the keys to his beat up Ford, if he was depriving him of getting laid to go to some damn hippie house, Curly was driving and Tim had no say.

The place Tim had told Curly to go to was a place he visited regularly, he knew a lot of their names, that ones that stuck around anyway and he knew his way around it.

The place was covered in says like "don't let the man keep you down" and "war is not healthy or children and other living things", flowers, and colorful splatters of paint. One of them told me the paint was to show whatever they were feeling at the time. Curly just saw ugly drops of paint.

"Hi, Curly. Did you come to share with us?" Her eyes were glazed and she talked as if she was far away as she always did. He never saw her once not doped up.

"Willow," he said. "Yes, I did. Tim here has everything you need."

"Right on." Willow nodded. He didn't like how these people acted they were too calm. It was unnerving.

Tim handed her a couple grams of pot and tabs of LSD. She gladly took it.

"Thanks, man. This is great. Drop acid not bombs, y'know?"

Curly had never seen Tim look so blatantly uncomfortable but he looked at Willow like she was crazy and he couldn't wait to get out of here. Curly stifled a laugh; he knew laughing would only earn him an earful from Tim.

Curly patted his brother on the back. He was slightly happy seeing Tim so out of his area and how he was handling it better than him. It was a sick satisfaction.

"Let's get outta here." He said, done torturing his older brother.

When Curly returned home Amara's car was gone and so was she. He flung his jacket on the rail and went to the kitchen, other than Tim no one was home. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and went to watch some television.

Not too long after, there was a knock at the door. "Tim, get the damn door!"

Tim said nothing and Curly sighed and went to get the door.

"What're you doin' here?" He asked. The person on the other side of the door happened to be Cherry Valance. Curly couldn't think of a reason she would be on his porch.

"Um- I'm looking for Amara." She appeared nervous, but he could tell she was trying to not show it. This wasn't her part of the city.

"What do ya want?"

She fidgeted with her hair and skirt. She was nervous. "I was looking for Amara. She wasn't home. The only thing I came close to finding her was you."

His brows furrowed at the girl in front of him. "What do you want from her?"

Cherry was squirming. "I need to talk to her. It's important, I need to get some things out in the open."

Begrudgingly, he told the broad where to find Amara. He wasn't fully sure but the girl seemed sincere about her intentions. He wouldn't expect that kind of girl to go egg Amara's house or anything. If this girl wanted to talk to Amara, he'd let her. He had met Cherry before, she seemed okay. And as much as she tried to deny it, she missed her old friends. She was lonely and she wasn't as happy as she had been before. Curly wished he could be all she needed but the truth is he couldn't, she needed a friend.

"If you're gonna harass her on go hurtin' her in any way I suggest you don't even go near her, ya hear?"

"I hear."

The redhead walked off his porch and jumped back into her corvette. It zoomed down the street and Curly slammed the door shut.

Unexpected visitors seemed to be the norm today. In front of Curly was Mark Jennings. The boy had his hands thrown lazily in his pockets and he was slouching, he looked at ease; as if he came there every day. The boys got along in public, but they never actually hung out. They clashed too much for that, so Curly Shepard had no idea what the hell Jennings was doing on his front steps.

"How's it goin', man?" Mark said and it came so natural from his mouth, anyone would have thought they were old buddies.

"Same old," Curly gave him a nod. "What're ya doin' here, Jennings?"

"Tim home?"

"He is, why you want 'em?"

Mark stayed quiet and Curly refrained from rolling his eyes at the guy. He came to his door, not the other way around. Least the guy could do was answer his questions. Unenthusiastically, he went and grabbed Tim. He figured if Jennings was coming to Tim for help, the poor guy needed it since he had been so against it before.

Tim came out and looked at Mark the same way Curly had – wondering why he was even here. After a couple look-overs, Tim seemed to think everything was alright and talked to Mark.

"What do you want, kid?" If this had been a year ago, Tim would've been delighted to see Jennings on their porch. But Tim didn't like being rejected and once you had rejected him, he never had much interest left in you. Mark had said no to Tim's proposals and since then there hadn't been much talk of the guy from Tim's mouth.

"Is it too late to take you up on that offer ya made me?"

Without even looking at his brother, Curly knew he was looking at the other boy as if he was as stupid as a rock and if Tim were the type, he would've laughed.

"I made that a year ago. My outfit is just fine without ya, Mark."

"You boys are sellin' dope right?"

"I ain't gonna answer that." Tim said, roughly, and started to shut the door. Mark boldly pushed against it.

"Look- you know my momma, right? She's in the hospital and shit, we just can't pay for it. I'm desperate, man."

Tim shut the door tight and stomped away. It was times like this Curly really hated Tim. How he could care so much for his own mother and just let another go to debt when they were coming to him for help, he could never understand. Curly could still see Mark's outline through the curtain when he made his way back to the living room. He wanted to help him, but it was out of his hands so he just sat down watched the The Good Guys like nothing ever happened.