Slashed Tires Chapter 22
A/N: Okay, I really tried to make this about all the greasers. But I couldn't help tailing Dallas a little. Sorry. He's just really intriguing I guess.
~
Tim's eyes were stony, reflecting no emotion. He stared straight ahead, not blinking. Slowly he reached in his pocket and drew out his lighter. He shook the pack of smokes in his hand, picking one and setting it between his lips. He brought the lighter up close, then flicked it, lighting the cigarette easily. His gaze never wavered. He took a slow drag off the weed, then leaned forward offering the cigarette to the dark haired boy sitting across from him. The Soc took it, setting it firmly in his mouth, taking a quick puff. Tim smiled and breathed out, smoke billowing from his mouth before disappearing into the hazy atmosphere in the bar. He accepted his cigarette from the Soc.
"So," he drawled, leaning back in his chair, "what's this all about now?"
"Don't play dumb," the Soc answered coolly. "You know what this," he waved a hand carelessly at the boys grouped behind him, "is all about."
Tim closed his eyes, slowly breathing in the dark, sweet aroma of the weed. Behind him, he heard his boys shift anxiously. He smirked, knowing that if he looked back, they'd all be wearing identical looks of tough indifference. He resisted the urge to do so. He just knew better. You never turn your back to the enemy.
"Refresh my memory," he answered finally. He thought he heard Dally snort behind him. He felt a momentary stab of annoyance - maybe the line was cliché, but it didn't look good when his own gang members laughed at him.
The Soc's face darkened. "You stormed our club. You destroyed valuable and private property. You scared the hell outta our women."
"You had it comin'."
"One of our men was attacked," the Soc snapped. "It was revenge, takin' that whore-"
Tim's eyes flew open and he stiffened, half raising himself from his chair. Quick as lightning, Darry was behind him, one hand gripping the back of his shirt where the Socs couldn't see. Slowly Tim relaxed, sinking back into his chair. The Socs were tense, gazing at their rivals with apprehension. Darry's sudden movement had thrown their confidence. The boy smirked, his dark eyes laughing cruelly. `Fuck,' Tim thought, angry with himself. He'd screwed up.
"Alright. You wanna settle this thing once and for all with a rumble." Tim was sick of waiting. He wanted this thing done.
The dark haired boy cleared his throat. "Yeah that's what we want. And we want it soon."
Tim pulled out another cigarette. "Yeah an' how soon?"
"Friday."
Tim almost dropped his lighter. Friday was two days away. Shakily he lit his smoke, staring all the while at the Soc. He took a drag off the weed, thinking hard. His boys and Darry's crew were roughed up a little from the fight the night before. But those guys over in Brumly owed his gang a favour. He let the air out slowly and nodded.
"Friday then," he said monotonously.
"Where?"
`Shit,' Tim thought. He was completely unprepared. He took another drag off his smoke, his mind running through all the possible places they could hold the rumble.
"The vacant lot," he said quickly, smoke twisting out through his mouth. "Down by Grant Street. On our side."
"Fine." The Soc shot it the word back like an insult, not missing a beat.
"Seven-thirty."
"Six."
`Don't be stupid. It's too bright out at six.' Tim thought. "Seven."
"Seven, then." The Soc was glaring distastefully at him. Oh, if looks could kill.
"Then it's settled." Tim said.
"Vacant lot. Friday," the Soc paused. "Seven." He spat it out like a swear word.
"Yeah."
The boys waited in silence. Behind him Dallas was shifting, and obviously. A sandy haired Soc was following his movements with his eyes. Tim resisted the urge to break Dally's nose. The guy could be so stupid sometimes.
The Soc pressed his lips together studying Tim. Then slowly, slowly, he put his hand out in front of him. Tim stared at him for a minute, his nose wrinkling. Then Darry nudged him. `Shut up,' Tim thought childishly at the larger boy. He took the Socs hand, shaking it firmly. The Soc's face twisted in disgust. Then both boys let go, quickly drawing their hands back to themselves, shuddering involuntarily.
"Right," the boy said, and Tim caught him wiping his hand on his jeans. The Soc stood, and his group turned ready to leave.
"Bastards," one of the Socs muttered.
"Fucking pansies," Dally retorted, not bothering to lower his voice. "Goddamn mother-fuckers." They probably didn't even know the meaning of the word `bastard', he thought bitterly. He knew the meaning all to well.
The group stopped. One Soc glanced back, and sneering, flipped him off. Dally rolled his eyes, returning the gesture. Then they were gone, leaving the bar to old drunks, the unemployed, the recently dumped, and the greasers. The second the door closed behind them Tim leapt to his feet turning on Dallas.
"What the hell is your problem!" he demanded. "It's like you suddenly `forgot' everything your supposed to do at these meetings." He stalked forward shoving Dally into the wall. "You show NOTHING," he hissed, his voice dark. "Nothing Dallas. No emotion. I don't care if they fucking recite every stupid thing you've ever done, you DON'T LET THEM KNOW they got to you. You saw how that kid was when he called Angela a whore and I got up...You can't give that to them." Tim backed off, shaking his head. "Keep your pride Dallas. You don't got nothing else."
Dally stared back at Tim, his eyes narrowed. He was shaking. He would have punched the guy if he hadn't known that they needed Tim for the rumble. The thing that got him the most was that Tim was right. He glanced around him. A couple of the greasers were staring at him, but some wouldn't meet his gaze. Darry was smirking and trying to hide it. `Keep my pride huh,' he thought angrily. `Where's my pride now?'
"Yes, Yoda. A Jedi shall not be angry. Anger leads to hate, hate to SUFFERING." Dallas didn't realize he'd said the words out loud until the group around him began to laugh. Tim turned and gave him a look, his eyebrows raised. `Crap,' Dallas thought frustrated. He was really ruining his rep. Two-Bit was the wise guy. He was the jail-hardened, tough, hood. Dallas rubbed his eyes wearily. It was because of Johnny really. He kept worrying. It was distracting him. He followed the group outside into the cold night. Sliding his hands into his pockets he felt the sharp edges of paper. The Soda-note. That decided him. Cops or no cops, he was going to see the kids.
A/N: Okay, I really tried to make this about all the greasers. But I couldn't help tailing Dallas a little. Sorry. He's just really intriguing I guess.
~
Tim's eyes were stony, reflecting no emotion. He stared straight ahead, not blinking. Slowly he reached in his pocket and drew out his lighter. He shook the pack of smokes in his hand, picking one and setting it between his lips. He brought the lighter up close, then flicked it, lighting the cigarette easily. His gaze never wavered. He took a slow drag off the weed, then leaned forward offering the cigarette to the dark haired boy sitting across from him. The Soc took it, setting it firmly in his mouth, taking a quick puff. Tim smiled and breathed out, smoke billowing from his mouth before disappearing into the hazy atmosphere in the bar. He accepted his cigarette from the Soc.
"So," he drawled, leaning back in his chair, "what's this all about now?"
"Don't play dumb," the Soc answered coolly. "You know what this," he waved a hand carelessly at the boys grouped behind him, "is all about."
Tim closed his eyes, slowly breathing in the dark, sweet aroma of the weed. Behind him, he heard his boys shift anxiously. He smirked, knowing that if he looked back, they'd all be wearing identical looks of tough indifference. He resisted the urge to do so. He just knew better. You never turn your back to the enemy.
"Refresh my memory," he answered finally. He thought he heard Dally snort behind him. He felt a momentary stab of annoyance - maybe the line was cliché, but it didn't look good when his own gang members laughed at him.
The Soc's face darkened. "You stormed our club. You destroyed valuable and private property. You scared the hell outta our women."
"You had it comin'."
"One of our men was attacked," the Soc snapped. "It was revenge, takin' that whore-"
Tim's eyes flew open and he stiffened, half raising himself from his chair. Quick as lightning, Darry was behind him, one hand gripping the back of his shirt where the Socs couldn't see. Slowly Tim relaxed, sinking back into his chair. The Socs were tense, gazing at their rivals with apprehension. Darry's sudden movement had thrown their confidence. The boy smirked, his dark eyes laughing cruelly. `Fuck,' Tim thought, angry with himself. He'd screwed up.
"Alright. You wanna settle this thing once and for all with a rumble." Tim was sick of waiting. He wanted this thing done.
The dark haired boy cleared his throat. "Yeah that's what we want. And we want it soon."
Tim pulled out another cigarette. "Yeah an' how soon?"
"Friday."
Tim almost dropped his lighter. Friday was two days away. Shakily he lit his smoke, staring all the while at the Soc. He took a drag off the weed, thinking hard. His boys and Darry's crew were roughed up a little from the fight the night before. But those guys over in Brumly owed his gang a favour. He let the air out slowly and nodded.
"Friday then," he said monotonously.
"Where?"
`Shit,' Tim thought. He was completely unprepared. He took another drag off his smoke, his mind running through all the possible places they could hold the rumble.
"The vacant lot," he said quickly, smoke twisting out through his mouth. "Down by Grant Street. On our side."
"Fine." The Soc shot it the word back like an insult, not missing a beat.
"Seven-thirty."
"Six."
`Don't be stupid. It's too bright out at six.' Tim thought. "Seven."
"Seven, then." The Soc was glaring distastefully at him. Oh, if looks could kill.
"Then it's settled." Tim said.
"Vacant lot. Friday," the Soc paused. "Seven." He spat it out like a swear word.
"Yeah."
The boys waited in silence. Behind him Dallas was shifting, and obviously. A sandy haired Soc was following his movements with his eyes. Tim resisted the urge to break Dally's nose. The guy could be so stupid sometimes.
The Soc pressed his lips together studying Tim. Then slowly, slowly, he put his hand out in front of him. Tim stared at him for a minute, his nose wrinkling. Then Darry nudged him. `Shut up,' Tim thought childishly at the larger boy. He took the Socs hand, shaking it firmly. The Soc's face twisted in disgust. Then both boys let go, quickly drawing their hands back to themselves, shuddering involuntarily.
"Right," the boy said, and Tim caught him wiping his hand on his jeans. The Soc stood, and his group turned ready to leave.
"Bastards," one of the Socs muttered.
"Fucking pansies," Dally retorted, not bothering to lower his voice. "Goddamn mother-fuckers." They probably didn't even know the meaning of the word `bastard', he thought bitterly. He knew the meaning all to well.
The group stopped. One Soc glanced back, and sneering, flipped him off. Dally rolled his eyes, returning the gesture. Then they were gone, leaving the bar to old drunks, the unemployed, the recently dumped, and the greasers. The second the door closed behind them Tim leapt to his feet turning on Dallas.
"What the hell is your problem!" he demanded. "It's like you suddenly `forgot' everything your supposed to do at these meetings." He stalked forward shoving Dally into the wall. "You show NOTHING," he hissed, his voice dark. "Nothing Dallas. No emotion. I don't care if they fucking recite every stupid thing you've ever done, you DON'T LET THEM KNOW they got to you. You saw how that kid was when he called Angela a whore and I got up...You can't give that to them." Tim backed off, shaking his head. "Keep your pride Dallas. You don't got nothing else."
Dally stared back at Tim, his eyes narrowed. He was shaking. He would have punched the guy if he hadn't known that they needed Tim for the rumble. The thing that got him the most was that Tim was right. He glanced around him. A couple of the greasers were staring at him, but some wouldn't meet his gaze. Darry was smirking and trying to hide it. `Keep my pride huh,' he thought angrily. `Where's my pride now?'
"Yes, Yoda. A Jedi shall not be angry. Anger leads to hate, hate to SUFFERING." Dallas didn't realize he'd said the words out loud until the group around him began to laugh. Tim turned and gave him a look, his eyebrows raised. `Crap,' Dallas thought frustrated. He was really ruining his rep. Two-Bit was the wise guy. He was the jail-hardened, tough, hood. Dallas rubbed his eyes wearily. It was because of Johnny really. He kept worrying. It was distracting him. He followed the group outside into the cold night. Sliding his hands into his pockets he felt the sharp edges of paper. The Soda-note. That decided him. Cops or no cops, he was going to see the kids.