Whisper stood in the doorway of room 149, unable to force herself beyond it. She fought back the emotion to cry. 'This isn't right, this isn't fair,' she thought bitterly as her eyes continue to watch the man lying on the bed.
He looked tall, even seeing him sideways. His skin was dark, as if he had a permanent tan. Dark brown, almost black hair which was cut short, gave him a mysterious appearance. From where she was standing, Whisper could only see the profile of his face, but she imagined the features were gentle in rest. This man was Darryl Curtis, not Dominic Romano.
Once assuring herself of that, she stepped inside. She hated to disturbed his peaceful slumber but she was supposed to see if he needed assistance. Was she actually supposed to wake him up? 'This why girls like me belong in the kitchen and bedroom. I'm an idiot'. She hasn't meant to think such a thought. It was no surprise though. How was she supposed to feel without Dominic? He was the one that had kept her steady.
He opened his eyes, revealing the color of blue-green. They were hard, cold. Swinging long legs over the side of the bed, Darry sat up, realizing for the first time he wasn't alone.
"Good morning, Mr. Curtis." Whisper gave a bright smile, her voice sounding more pleasant than she felt.
Darry shook his head, making sure his senses were okay. A beauty stood a few feet away from him. He took in her looks. Long, damp dark brown hair fell past her shoulders. Her eyes were a captivating green, standing out even with her dark skin. Her full lips were the shade of a newly blossomed red rose. Long tan legs were in view due to her short skirt. He noted they were well-toned, those of a runner.
Lifting up his pillow, Darry began searching. Hopping off the bed, he looked under it. This startled Whisper, who had gotten lost in his eyes. He stood now, addressing her finally.
"Where is it? Where's the camera?" His voice was chilling, but it didn't quite match the coldness in his eyes. Whisper looked at the man, baffled, taken aback from the violent vibrations she felt coming from him. What had she don't that was so wrong?
"I'm sorry Mr. Curtis, I don't understand."
"Of course you don't. I'm just a greaser, why should I care? 'Oh look, a decent looking hoodlum. Let's make a fiction movie about petty fights and unjustified hatred.' Sorry sweetheart, go back to Hollywood and tell them to shove it. I'm not here because I got beat up, I'm here 'cause I hurt myself fixing roofs, making an honest living. You know what that is, don't you?" Only now did she notice his impressive build, the result of hard labor.
Again she fought her tears. So that was it. She'd been somebody once. She still was to the public. The tears flowed silently now, wetting her pretty face. Embarrassed, she turned to run. He caught her arm.
"Oh no, you don't. Go running through this place screaming about how horrid is it to work with a no count hood. Trust me; I'm sure they're paying you enough. Dry your eyes. I'm leaving."
He walked to the door quickly. She managed to find her voice. "Dominic was the actor. The only role I ever played was the pretty face." The soft southern tone made Darry pause and face her again. There, in her eyes, he saw grief, real grief. He chose his words slowly.
"You don't belong here. This isn't the place for pretty faces." He turned and left the room. Instinct told her to follow. She always followed her instinct. Once catching up midway down the stairs, he began talking again, his tone now causal.
"You don't belong beside me either. But Ponyboy is so fascinated by movies. You can talk to him I guess."
Heads turned as Whisper Marie walked out into the rain with Darryl Curtis.