Slashed Tires Chapter 2
A/N: Sorry if chapter is not as good.writer's block. Anyone know a good cure? .PS Thank you so much for the nice reviews all!!!
Disclaimer: All (well most) characters belong to S.E.Hinton, as well as any aspect of the plot that is from her book "The Outsiders" not making money from writings.and the rest.
A car horn blared and tires squealed as an old green Ford swerved to avoid hitting Tim's car head on. Tim cursed under his breath and the driver flashed him a blasphemous hand signal. Time returned the insult, then stepped on the gas pedal. Muttering swear words under his breath, Tim wheeled his car into the parking lot of a nearby bar. He swung out of the car almost as soon as he stopped it, not caring if his parking was lopsided. He stomped into the bar and unceremoniously plunked himself down on one of the empty stools.
"Beer," he said monotonously, and the bartender quickly complied. Tim swallowed half his drink and brought the glass down with a bang, spraying tiny droplets of the amber liquid across the counter.
'Bad day?" the bartender asked mildly, wiping at the spills with a rag. "You look like you been in a fight," he added. He tapped at the edge of Tim's eye with one finger. Time pulled away, making a face.
"Some punk slashed my tires. Had to teach him a lesson," Tim growled.
"Who'd ya teach it to?" A young man in his 20s dropped down beside Tim. Tim glanced up and smiled wanly, recognising one of his gang members.
"Dally - Dallas Winston," Tim replied, gulping down the rest of his beer and signalling the bartender for another.
The bartender looked up, startled, and his gang-mate scratched his head in confusion.
"Dallas Winston? Ain't he that hood y'all are always talkin' 'bout being in jail and all?" The bartender leaned forward, his eyes on Tim.
"Man, I thought you and that kid was tight - like you was best friends or somethin'," Tim's gang-mate was also looking at him.
Tim shrugged. "Yeah, we're tight, and we fight to ya know," Tim replied, rolling his eyes at his friend's stupidity. Then to the bartender "Yeah thas who I mean."
The bartender whistled and shook his head in awe. "Man, you must be some fighter to get through alive! I hear he's like a wild thing fightin'."
Tim almost choked on his second beer.
"You ain't kiddin'!" Tim's gang-mate turned eagerly to the bartender. "I saw him fight this guy once, an' he breaked both his arms.and all 'cause the guy owed him a buck!"
Tim burst out laughing. He glanced at the two babbling awe-struck men and laughed harder. He paid for his beers, and jogged out of the bar, still laughing to himself. Sure Dally was a good fighter but he wasn't exactly superhuman. And Time doubted Dallas would go through the effort of breaking some guy's arms just for a buck. Maybe he'd rough him up a little. But, in any case the rumours were way off. His good mood restored, Time jumped into his car and headed home.
A/N: Sorry if chapter is not as good.writer's block. Anyone know a good cure? .PS Thank you so much for the nice reviews all!!!
Disclaimer: All (well most) characters belong to S.E.Hinton, as well as any aspect of the plot that is from her book "The Outsiders" not making money from writings.and the rest.
A car horn blared and tires squealed as an old green Ford swerved to avoid hitting Tim's car head on. Tim cursed under his breath and the driver flashed him a blasphemous hand signal. Time returned the insult, then stepped on the gas pedal. Muttering swear words under his breath, Tim wheeled his car into the parking lot of a nearby bar. He swung out of the car almost as soon as he stopped it, not caring if his parking was lopsided. He stomped into the bar and unceremoniously plunked himself down on one of the empty stools.
"Beer," he said monotonously, and the bartender quickly complied. Tim swallowed half his drink and brought the glass down with a bang, spraying tiny droplets of the amber liquid across the counter.
'Bad day?" the bartender asked mildly, wiping at the spills with a rag. "You look like you been in a fight," he added. He tapped at the edge of Tim's eye with one finger. Time pulled away, making a face.
"Some punk slashed my tires. Had to teach him a lesson," Tim growled.
"Who'd ya teach it to?" A young man in his 20s dropped down beside Tim. Tim glanced up and smiled wanly, recognising one of his gang members.
"Dally - Dallas Winston," Tim replied, gulping down the rest of his beer and signalling the bartender for another.
The bartender looked up, startled, and his gang-mate scratched his head in confusion.
"Dallas Winston? Ain't he that hood y'all are always talkin' 'bout being in jail and all?" The bartender leaned forward, his eyes on Tim.
"Man, I thought you and that kid was tight - like you was best friends or somethin'," Tim's gang-mate was also looking at him.
Tim shrugged. "Yeah, we're tight, and we fight to ya know," Tim replied, rolling his eyes at his friend's stupidity. Then to the bartender "Yeah thas who I mean."
The bartender whistled and shook his head in awe. "Man, you must be some fighter to get through alive! I hear he's like a wild thing fightin'."
Tim almost choked on his second beer.
"You ain't kiddin'!" Tim's gang-mate turned eagerly to the bartender. "I saw him fight this guy once, an' he breaked both his arms.and all 'cause the guy owed him a buck!"
Tim burst out laughing. He glanced at the two babbling awe-struck men and laughed harder. He paid for his beers, and jogged out of the bar, still laughing to himself. Sure Dally was a good fighter but he wasn't exactly superhuman. And Time doubted Dallas would go through the effort of breaking some guy's arms just for a buck. Maybe he'd rough him up a little. But, in any case the rumours were way off. His good mood restored, Time jumped into his car and headed home.