RockabillyHippie: I love your review! And I hope to have more from you soon! Your fun to read! And yes, great minds do think alike.
lulusgardenfli: There's so much layering and characterization here even when the characters aren't directly in the scene, Yes I'm trying to perfect that skill. It the bread and butter of writing.
Phoenix Arisen Again: Glad you enjoyed it, and gad to hear from you again.
Chapter XVI
S*S
"For the love o' God, Darry. Open us two bottles o' beers-" Darrel Curtis Senior drawled lazily, muscles cracking as he rolled his neck, large hands fiddling with his tool-belt. " 'Fore we die from lack o' alcohol. Feel like Ah'm back in Goddamn Prohibition."
His firstborn rolled his eyes, but grinned as as he moved his way to the ice box father and son had set up outside the family's work shed, as they tinker and polished away with repairing an burnt table top for Mrs. Matthews. Since the good woman had no man in her house with no sort of craftsmanship skill (lookin' at you, Two-Bit), they'd volunteered to fix it up and save the lady the cash she didn't have to get it replaced.
...Though exactly how the Matthew's dinner table ended up being set on fire was still well beyond Darry. Though his father was less perplex.
"Put a bored, drunk-as-a-sunk Kieth Matthews n' a lighter toget'er, and just be damn grateful that he didn't burn his whole damn house down," Dare remarked drily, with the wisdom only years of seeing shit would grant a man. "Surprise Maria don't tan his hind."
Darry snorted as he retrieved the beers by their skinny glass stems with one hand, meandering back over. "Ahh, Dad, you know Mrs. Matthews a good Italian mama -she don't blame Two-Bit for nothin'. Not even if he did burn their house down."
Dare clinked his cheek and inclined his head to the point, knowing it was so. But before he could add any more, the whooshing screech of the back door swinging open raised both their brown, cow-licked heads, as Molly put a barefoot out, cupping her hand to her mouth.
"Dare, phone rang for you." Her eyes showed she meant business. Straightening with greater alertness, Dare briefly touched his son's shoulder before heading over; that same hand curling around his girl's little waist, drawing her close while drawing them into their house.
"What's up, hon?" he asked her, and Molly bit her lip, the very way their Ponyboy did; fingers pushing Goldilocks hair from her face.
"I don't actually know, honest...but they asked for you...see for yourself-"
She gestured to the telephone that she had left waiting. Brow furrow, Dare picked it up, running a list through his head to see if there were any bills accidentally left unpaid, or any favors left un-settled in the neighborhood.
Well, 'bout to find out.
"Yes, who is this?" he inquired, voice dropping the warmth reserved for his friends, his children, and his girl. For all he knew, this was business. Though he was forced to reconsider that when an uncertain child's voice resounded in his ear.
"Um...is this Mr. Curtis?" someone obviously very young answered him. Dare blinked, and dispute himself, found his shoulders un-tensing, and his rein on his voice tone loosen.
"Yes, this is, and who are you, son?" he said.
"Um...my name's Sam Allen, Mr. Curtis. I guess ya don't really know me, but you know a Johnny Cade right?"
He straightened again. He always did, with the slightest mention Chief Joe Cade's nephew, a habit formed, over and over, at just how hard a hand life had seen fit give that boy.
"Yes, I do son," he answered. "What about 'im?"
"Well, he's in a little bit of trouble sir. You see, he's stuck in a well with my sister."
S*S
"He's stuck in a well with some kid's sister?" Darry echoed for tenth-time, since he and his old man had clambered into the pickup, a mile's length of rope tossed in the back, and sojourned out to the address one Sam Allen had given. To the the tall cotton side of town, far from their kind, and even father from the earth where God had made Adam. It was a gradual thing, the increase in wealth, showing in the better paved roads, the lack of litter, the gals dressed nicer -like they were gals, then gals trying to hard to be the worse sort of women.
"That's what the boy said," Dare answered patiently, though he was anything but patience, his cigarette pinched hard between his fingers, out the rolled down window, smoke flying out with the note of Follow that Dream, sung from the voice of a Tenseness boy like himself:
"Johnny?" Darry asked again, as if he'd heard martians had set up shop on Independence Street.
"Well, it sure ain't Pony, if ya askin'..."
Darry whistled, shaking his head. Before he stopped, and his eyes narrowed, getting that figuring look. "You said the kid's name was Allen?"
"It is indeed...Sam Allen."
"You...ya don't think this would have anythin' to do with Johnny's little school buddy, do ya...what's-her-name...Wendy?"
Dare snorted, his mouth pulling loose and wide and tight, with just a small degree of the sin that had once tempted his wife, back when they were kids and she was still a maid.
"Ah'll eat the full length o' that rope back there in that truck if it don'."
I've got to follow that dream wherever that dream may lead...I've got to follow that dream to find the love I need...
Darry's eyebrow winged up as he either consider the metal image of that, or of the possibilities opened by such a reality. His voice softened, slightly. "...God, knows Johnnycakes deserves a win for once."
"Um'hem," Dare nodded, dragging his smoke. "He does indeed."
When they pulled up to the given address, Dare shook his head slightly at the gluttony of the house before -way larger than any one family needed. Hell, the damn lawn -immaculate and still green, even in November -was a larger amount of property than the entire Curtis estate.
Two identical boys with bright robin eyes, who had been shooting the breeze on their front step, hopped down and wandered over, sticking shoulder to shoulder, more so when they show just how much their guests towered over 'em -two Davids and Goliaths.
"Hi," one said. "Are you Mr. Curtis?"
"Indeed I am," Dare confirmed, nodding briskly. "And this is my son -Darry."
"Nice to meet ya, sir," the lead kid said, holding out a hand. Brows lifted, Dare engulfed it in his own for a brief shake, and Darry did likewise when the twin -Sam, he assumed- offered him the same.
"So, Johnny and Wendy are a little ways passed the backyard," Sam narrated as the boys lead them around their shinning house, and then across their yard into the woods.
Both Curtis' exchanged a glance at the confirmation of what the suspected, though they keep that paticular thought to themselves. Instead Darry asked what was also on his mind.
"How exactly did they get stuck in a well?"
"I donno," Sam shrugged. "The well is near an old abandoned house Wendy always told us not to play near."
Then the boy sniggered and his dark eyes gleamed along with his twin. "But if you ask me, I think they were swapping spit and fell in."
By this time, Dare knew he had a huge ass smile carved firmly onto his face. And there it remind when they came into a clearing, and it became apparent just how dire the situation really was.
S*S
"Ninety-one bottles o' beer on the wall, ninety-one bottles o' beer," Bonnie Matthews sang out. "Take one down, pass it around, ninety bottles o' beer on the wall..."
The little girl was cheerfully perched on the edge of the storm-hole, her legs dangling merrily above her captive audience's heads. She had come back to informed them that the twins had made successful contact with Mr. Curtis. And then abruptly plopped down in order to keep 'em company. It was a gesture Wendy had naively mistaken for sweet, though the way Johnny suddenly looked worried should've tipped her off.
And know, a full decade of bottles of beer on the wall later, Wendy could safely say she had been relived of that notion.
Worse, neither Johnny or herself could muster up the words to tell the little girl that she sound like a cat being cruelly tortured by the Spanish Inquisition.
So they pressed their mouths and endured.
"Ninety bottles of beer on the wall, ninety bottles of beer-"
"Whoa, easy there Bonnie," and older masculine voice drawled in a bark of laughter. One that lifted Johnny's head up like a flare. "Ah think that's enough beer for one day."
"Hiya Mr. Curtis," Bonnie greeted cheerfully, bouncing up and pointing into the hole. "They're down there."
The sound of footsteps came closer, and pretty soon, the silhouette of her brothers, and two oxen of a man -one with a blessed length of rope thrown over his shoulder.
"Well indeed they are," the older of the two men hummed, grinning. He nodded to Johnny. "Kid."
"Hey Mr. C," Johnny answered back, before he turned her way, and made her flush when the man tipped his baseball cap to her. "And you must be the famous Wendy."
That had Johnny flushing an interesting shade of beet red besides her, and Wendy couldn't make herself glance over at him.
"Well, I don't know about that sir-"
"But we sure do," the younger man interrupted with broad, evil smirk. "Isn't that right, Johnnycakes?"
Johnny groaned and dropped his head into his hand, while Bonnie and the boys' "ooooo'd" with glinting eyes.
"...Ya, know what? I think I'm just gon' stay right here in this hole," he muttered. "Just stay right on here in this hole."
"Well, you can have that wish for a bit, Johnny-Be-Good," Mr. Curtis graciously offered, swinging the rope down off his shoulder and going about the business of knotting it into a loop. "Ladies, first, am Ah right?"
Little bit later, While Mr. Curtis pulled, his son was taking hold of Wendy's arms, tugging her above ground like she weighted nothing. Then it was Johnny's turn, which, despite his proclamation, he accepted without fuss.
Once they both were pulled up and dusted up, Mr. Curtis cleared his tan throat.
"Well it's certainly very nice to meet ya, Wendy, Ah can see why English has become Johnny's favorite subject."
That turned 'em both another shade of red, and send the kids into shrieks of giggles, and a chorus of "Johnny and Wendy, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-E-I-N-P-"
That got 'em a baffled what-the-heck look from Darry -not dissimilar from the one Mama had- which sent the trio running off into their next adventure...far, far away. Wendy groaned, and rubbed her eyes briefly, and when she looked up, she offered weakly -"Little brothers..."
Darry clucked his tongue and looked at her with wry kinship. "Yeah, I hear ya."
Meanwhile, through all that, Mr. Curtis didn't miss a beat. "Well, it's gettin' rather late, so we sould be seeing ourselves on home. And I'm sure Johnny wouldn't object to walkin' ya to your door."
That made 'em shuffle, and discover yet another tone to the ever increasing spectrum of crimson. But Johnny lifted his burning face, cool eyed, and nodded at the challenged.
"Sure don't," he said. Mr. Curtis' smile dragged out even more lazily.
"Good," he dragged out, slowly. " Then I'm also sure ya would mind bringing her over for dinner this Sunday, ain't that right Johnnycakes?"
"...Sure don't."
Mr. Curtis slapped his hands together, making them both jump. "Well know that's that's settle, come on, let get on home."
As promised, once their party was safely out of the Green Mile, Johnny walked her up to her back door on the three season porch, hands in his pockets and his chewed his lip.
"Ya know, if you don't want to come to dinner on Sunday, they won't be mad or nothin'-" he started, but Wendy rushed to cut him off.
"No, no...I want to, I would like to..." she shuffled again, holding onto the swing door like it was the safe zone in tag.
"If you don't mind..." she added softly. Johnny shook his head firmly.
"Heck no I don't mind. Just...be ready, we don't live...well...it's not like this," he tilted his head back, pointing with his chin to her house.
"Okay," Wendy said. And something in embers of Johnny's eyes burned softer.
"...Well, okay then," he said, walking backwards, and grinning wider then she'd ever seen him. He came near to tripping himself on the garden hose, though he righted himself in time. And he was still grinning besides. "See ya then."
"See you then," Wendy returned, pressing her mouth to the door frame. She stayed their until Johnny and his friends had mosey around the front of the house. Then let out the little squeal that had been begging to be set free.
Of course, that was also when she remembered that she hadn't gotten to tell him what she'd set out to do in the first place.
S*S
Darry whooped the moment they reached the car, head-locking Johnny and dragging him in a rodeo worthy circle. "Well you little son of a gun."
"Ah, Dar, c'mon, let go!" Johnny protested, trying to wiggle free. Chuckling, the older boy complied.
"That, my friend, is one fine lookin' little girl," he announced. "And did'ya see the way she watched you, Johnnycakes? I don't know the hell you did, boy, but you got that one on a line. Been dabblin' in Voodoo or some Indian medicine?"
"Have you been hanging around Two-Bit more recently?" Johnny drawled back, taking a comb from his pocket and fixing his hair.
Darry snorted as they boarded the pickup, and his father chuckled. "Naw, Johnny just got his Uncle Joe's style, reel 'em in with that silent charm."
Johnny grinned with pleasure at the comparison, hopping in the back. Though he frowned as he did.
"What'da'ya think the others are gonna say?" he wondered out loud.
"They ain't gon' say nothin' Johnny," Mr. Curtis promised him firmly. "Ah guaran-damn-teed you that."
Johnny blinked, but then he softened. "Thanks..."
"Don't mention it Johnnycakes."
S*S
"You shittin' me?"
Molly was over in an instant, hands on her hips. "Dally, please, no language at the dinner table."
But for once, Winston wouldn't heed her, instead fixing his gaze on Darry, Johnny, and himself. "Ya gonna bring a little Soc here? On our turf?"
"Well it ain't like were planning the invasion of Normandy Dal," Johnny defended himself. "Ain't nothin' here for her to notice-"
Winston snorted, cold and bone dry. "Ecept for all us hoods. Forgot that part?"
Pony bite his lip, and shuffled a tad closer to Pepsi-Cola, who immediately jump in.
"C'mon now," his boy mediated, pointing a fork in a wide circle around the table. "From all I've heard and seen, she ain't in to the whole thing -sides, her family seems fine...her brothers got no problem playing with Bon, right Two-Bit?"
"No problem at all," Two-Bit confirmed. "Their good kids, and from what Bonnie can get out of 'em, their sister been doing most of the raising. Their Mama died o' something nasty year back."
Of course, Molly damn near melted at that, like she'd just found a box of kittens on the front door step, accompanied by a small thunder cloud and a sad playing violin. "Oh...those poor little things."
Hell, even Steve's mouth twitched down a little, well remembering that pain in his own house.
Winston's face was straining with the effort to not say nothin'. If it wasn't for Molly, he wouldn't of held back -Dare was sure.
"You do what ya want Johnny," he finally said, drilling his eyes hard into him. "But don't be surprise if once she's sees how the other half lives, she ain't interested in being round no more."
Johnny held his gaze mildly, the two boys most alone outside this table locking gazes and holding it in silent conversion. Apparently, it didn't go how Winston wanted it too, cause he scowled and looked away when it was done.
But it wasn't done for Dare. That was why, when Winston stalked outside to the porch to smoke and cuss lowly at the moon, Dare followed, breathing his own trail of nicotine, eyeing the tow-head boy.
His mouth pressed. If boy was the right word to use...cause the innocence required for the term to fit just wasn't there. Hadn't been for as long as any of 'em had know this future corpse on the street. Instead, the punk's eyes were ruthless, and his smile held cracked mercy of one who already knew he was in his grave, but planned on cussing until the coffin lid was shut.
Needless to say, he had been less than thrilled when Winston first showed up, hanging round not only his kids, but the kids that circumstance had compelled him to keep an eye out for.
He'd never liked Winston -he couldn't, when he saw in his face what he once saw in his own, before Utah and the 90th Infantry and Battle of the Bulge and Flossenbürg had burned it away.
He didn't go for subtle. Winston was his wife's pet. Not his.
"You scare this girl, you talk mean to her, do anythin' to ruin what Johnny tryin' to get goin', and it will be the last time your ass is allowed inside my house," he hummed lightly, the ember of his cigarette glowing in the darkness. "Hear?"
Winston sneered, but meet his gaze lowly. " I hear."
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Wasn't going to write during Lent, but with all this Corona Shit, I thought we all could use a pick me up. Stay safe and healthy people! God bless.
You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday. A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you. ~Psalm 91