"No matter what, I got your back
I'll take a bullet for you if it comes to that
I swear to god - we'll be okay
So believe me when I say you're the one
They'll never forgive us for the things we've done
No way to justify, we got no alibi
We are alive, we're on the run
Just put your hand in mine, it shouldn't be a crime
What have we done"
– Papa Roach "No Matter What"
The next month was the longest month of my entire life. Sally, believe it or not, took me to court, trying to gain custody of Michelle, who she, by blood and by law, had no right to. As expected, the court granted me full custody of my baby sister, with the warning that if another event like what had happened to Pepsi, was brought to his attention, he would vanquish my rights to my sister and she would be awarded to the state.
I was back at work, filling gas tanks and manning the counter when I was approached by a man who I had never seen before in my life. He was dressed in a black suit, his face masking all emotions. My first thought was that he was for Mike, who was out in the garage with Steve. Steve too, had been given his job back, but I think the only reason he wanted it back was because he didn't like me to lone it. So he got the same shifts I worked, that sly fox.
"How can I help you?" I asked, faking a sweet tone I reserved only for the older, more wealthier customers that came into the station.
"I'm looking for the family of Sodapop Curtis," he said, his tone flat.
"I'm his girlfriend," I said. Steve, who had been filling up the tank for one of the cars parked out front, saw the man and was quickly making his way into the store.
"Have you spoken to Sodapop recently?" he asked, again, his tone flat, emotionless.
"No, actually. I've had a lot going on. Is something wrong?" I didn't like where this was going.
"No, not quite," the man said. "Is it possible for us to talk? In private?"
"No," I said, quickly throwing a look at Steve as he walked through the door. The last month had been stressful enough and for the first time, I was grateful Steve was right there to help get it over with. "I don't get off until after we close up. If you'd be kind enough to leave a phone number or something, I'll get back to you in the morning?"
Steve came up and snaked his arm around my waist, giving the man in the suit a nasty, fierce look.
"Ma'am, I think it's important we speak now," he said, his tone more urgent.
"Sir, with all do respect, we're short staffed today, and if I leave, that means…" I cut myself off. I knew something seemed off about this whole situation. Instead of finishing my statement, I edged over to the counter, my hand sliding under the spot where the register was. I knew Mike kept a loaded handgun there ever since the armed robbery a few years ago.
"I think it's time you leave," I said, my tone harsh. My eyes were locked on his. I watched every movement, waiting for a sign of danger.
"Ma'am, c'mon," he tried again. There it was. The sign. The threat. Danger. Every muscle tensed as I reached my free hand out, squeezing Steve's arm, but in a manner that the man couldn't see. Steve inched towards me, his motions almost impossible to track. The man just looked at me, a pleading look on his face.
"God damn it, how hard is it to get the damn broad away from the counter?" a second man hollered, slamming the door open. His movement set Steve off. Steve, who had been trained on a battle field. Steve was fast. Very, very fast. Steve had the second man pinned against the wall in seconds flat. I turned my attention to the first man, my eyes locking on his hand. As expected, he pulled the heater I had noticed was slipped in his waistband.
The second his was drawn, I pulled the handgun out from under the counter, my aim steady.
"No one has to get hurt," I said through clenched teeth. "Get outta here."
"Oh, lookie here, Marc, we've got a little spitfire telling us what to do," the second man taunted. Steve pressed his arm firmly down on the man's throat, causing him to cough instead of chuckle.
The first man, Marc, seemed uneasy. Almost as if he didn't want to be a part of this. I leveled the heater with his chest, willing and ready to put an end to him if he made the wrong move.
"You wouldn't shot someone," he said, his tone soft, taunting me.
"I will," I hissed, adrenaline rushing through my veins. I remembered back exactly two years prior, when a similar incident had taken place. Mike was amazed that I managed to hold down the fort, without letting the robber get away with any money. This time looked to be different. These two looked like they had a different agenda.
"Marc, fuck it, man, we weren't bettin' on the broken toy soldier bein' here," the other man squealed, his face turning red from the way Steve was holding him so tightly.
"You're lucky this time, Cedar. We will be back," he promised as he slipped the heater back into his waistband, heading towards the door. Steve followed with the second man still tightly in his grip. When they got outside, Steve spun the man away, a look a pure anger on his face.
I took the opportunity to prove my point. I shot at the ground near the men's feet, causing them both to break out in an all-out sprint towards the small cluster of trees across the feet.
Steve turned to me, his face a mix of anger and concern.
"Are you okay?" he asked, coming to my side, taking my face in his warm, rough hands.
"I'm fine," I promised. "Not the first time a couple of freaks came in here lookin' for some easy money."
"You shouldn't have to know that," Steve said gently, taking the gun from my hands. "You're frightening when you've got a heater in your hand."
"That's the point," I smiled smugly. "I didn't spend three months down at the shooting ring for nothing."
"Glory, why in the world did you have to? The DX is normally one of the few stations not to get robbed," he grunted.
"Times are changing, Stevie old pal," I chided. I led the way back into the store. I walked around the counter and dialed Mike's home number.
"Hey Mike, it's Jo," I said before he could say a word. "Jus' lettin' you know, a couple of Socy freaks came in today, dunno if they were planning to rob us or not, but it's all taken care of."
"Are you okay?" he asked, his tone urgent. He was remembering the last time. I was too.
"I'm fine," I promised. "Steve took care of the one guy and the other backed down when he realized I wasn't taking no shit."
"Good, good. Why don't you two lock up early? It's late and odds are it'll be slow anyway," he said gently.
"It's not even 4 yet," I pointed out.
"I don't care. Lock up anyway." His tone told me better than to argue.
"Alright, I'll lock up," I said with a sigh. "See you tomorrow."
"Be careful, Jo-Anna Beth," he said before hanging up.
I shook my head, good and fed up with people worrying about me like I was some helpless little girl. I was almost 25 years old, been through hell and back, and still, people couldn't seem to understand it. I glanced at Steve, who was hovering like an over eager puppy, waiting for me to let him in on the side of the conversation he hadn't heard.
"We had an incident here shortly after I was hired," I explained. "Nothing major, but two hoods came in to rob the joint, one had a knife, the other a gun, and in the process of handing over the money, I managed to get cut up pretty good. Mike's been overly cautious ever since."
"You never thought to tell me that?" Steve barked.
"It never came up. Besides, obviously, I'm fine," I said, my tone slightly harsher than I intended. "I'm tired of people treating me like some helpless girl."
"You are a helpless girl!" Steve barked. As soon as he said it, it was clear he regretted it. I gave him a dirty look, but rather than spark an argument, I simply walked over to the invoice, signed out and tossed him the keys.
"I'll walk home, if that's okay with you, dad," I said harshly. I was irritated and just needed to clear my head. I needed sky. And I knew the perfect place to get it.
I didn't wait around for Steve to argue or attempt to catch up. I took the various short cuts through alleys and dark corners, all of which Steve would never think to look, since I generally avoided said places. It didn't take me long to locate the old church that had been boarded up for years. Now, it was used more of a drug house than a place of worship. I moved the wood board away from one of the broken windows and slid in, careful not to make much noise.
"Hey Cedar, heard your boy toy got locked up," a familiar voice came. It was Melody, one of the locals.
"Just getting some help," I said, walking past her. She stuck of smoke, booze and sex. Not a pleasant combination.
"Finally coming to the darkside baby cakes?" James, a longhaired, stick thin man with dirt all over him asked. He was one of the few heroin addicts I didn't despise.
"Just looking for some sky, James," I said coolly. He nodded at that. A lot of us went there just for sky or a place to think. You'd think for a drug house, it'd be loud and chaotic, but it really wasn't. The hippies kept with the hippies, the junkies with the junkies, and us, the dreamers or the 'broken' as the junkies nicknamed us, tended to head to the roof. We all knew our place and knew not to cross the thin line. I'd seen all sorts of people there in my time. Socs, Greasers, middle class asshats. You name it, they've been there.
I headed up the creaky, unstable staircase, making a beeline for my window. At one point, I had shared that exact spot with Dally, only a week before his death. When Ponyboy and Johnny went missing, I needed to get out of the house. The house was sad and quiet, too quiet for a group of guys and a 4 year old. So I grabbed Dally and we headed to my window – my quiet piece of sky. This time, the first time since it all went down, I was headed there alone.
"Hey Jo-jo, welcome back," a thin, greasy haired boy said. He was maybe 14. I'd known him since he was Michelle's age.
"Hey Luke, thanks," I said as I walked past him, not in the mood for idle chitchat. I slid my window open and carefully stepped out onto the platform. From the outside, my spot was completely hidden. Right behind the bell tower, a beautiful Oak tree masking it from the street. I pulled an old Afghan out with me, spreading it carefully over the rotting shingles. I sat down, leaning back against the brickwork of the bell tower.
In that spot, above the street, below the stars, I found myself thinking back to a simpler time. A time where there was laughter than radiated off the walls of my home. A time where my love for Soda wasn't so difficult to maintain. A time where the girls were happy, careless, free. Most of all, I thought back to my younger, wilder days. Days I would spend off getting loaded and causing problems, only to have my mother scold me to high hell when I got home. I missed that. All of it. I missed it like words couldn't describe. Maybe, after everything settles down, I'll have Pony help me put it into words. He's good at that, ya know?
An owl hooted somewhere in the night sky. A gentle fall breeze blew, sending an easy chill through my body. The sensation was a welcomed gift. I loved when the only thing causing me to shiver was the wind. The wind, the cool, simple wind.
All I wanted was for life to be simple. To raise my children the way my mother wanted to raise us. To live happily, without fear of what tomorrow may bring. But when you're a Greaser, you're lucky to catch a break once in your lifetime. It was the sad, cold truth. But I wasn't giving up. It sure wasn't over yet.