Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. The Rolling Stones own "Honky Tonk Women."

I met a gin soaked, bar-room queen in Memphis

She tried to take me upstairs for a ride

September 17 – 18, 1971

Darry rubbed his hands over his face, a tired look in his pale eyes. He and Two-Bit had pulled another double for Mike, hauling ass to get two houses painted in one day. Well, the first one only consisted of two rooms and a basement while the other was much smaller, so they had mostly evened out the time between them. Still, Mike was getting business in locations that required Darry and Two-Bit to travel great distances. Darry wasn't about to complain, though; the dough he was making was great. It was the most he had ever made in his life, and he felt quite proud. With Soda partially living at home again, they continued to split the bills in half, which made the load lighter.

Things were different now, though.

There was a time when Darry would wish for peace and quiet when he came home—back when he was roofing houses. Not anymore. No, the house was too quiet for his liking, and there were days when he missed the sound of both Ponyboy's and Soda's laughter, the door slamming shut from either Steve or Two-Bit, and the sound of heavy boots moving across the squeaky floor letting him know that Dallas was there. He thought an awful lot about Johnny Cade, too, missed him something awful. Sometimes, late at night when he was by his lonesome, he allowed himself to remember his parents—the golden color of his mother's hair, his father's brilliant smile . . .

It felt like forever ago that the three of them had been gone, and sometimes, Darry couldn't believe how quickly time was moving along. Well, it seemed that it was, only he was sitting stagnant in the center while everyone and everything else either went their separate ways, or moved along with it. He was twenty-six years old, soon to be twenty-seven. He was still sharing a house with his kid brother, had no girl to call his own, and . . . well, sometimes Darry wished for something more. He was grateful for all that he had accomplished, and hell, he was damn proud of his brothers, too. He considered himself lucky in some way, but there was still a part of him that yearned for better. It was enough that Steve Randle and Evie Martin were getting married in less than three months, and then Ponyboy would be graduating college come next June . . .

Both of his brothers, and even Two-Bit, encouraged him to get out more, but Darry kept himself more focused on work. He figured that things were easier that way, and maybe they were; he didn't want to deal with other issues in his life when he finally just got on his own two feet and felt secure enough to relax a little. He wasn't able to silence the nagging voice in his mind, though, wasn't able to shutdown the thoughts that his family and friends were moving on further in life while he was still stuck doing the same job and following the same exact routine every day for the past few years. Dallas, the last time he had stopped in, told him that he needed to get himself a girl, or get laid . . . or something. The older man hadn't disagreed with him entirely—he needed to get out, and the few nights that he spent at the gym after work, or a Friday night at the bar, wasn't cutting it.

"You look like you could use another drink."

The voice had come from beside him, and Darry blinked, turning his head to the right to look at the girl who had taken a seat next to him. He remembered her from high school almost immediately. She had been a cheerleader when he played football. The eight years since they had graduated had done her real well, he figured, looking her over. She had always been attractive, but now . . . now she was a sure looker.

He offered her a polite grin, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You're not wrong," he replied in a low voice, and nodded toward her. "How've you been, Melody?"

Melody smiled, her brown eyes seeming to glow. "Been better." And then she leaned a little closer to him, before shifting to her side to rest her elbow against the counter. "How about you, Darry?"

The dark-haired man wanted to say that he was doing well, that he had been making out alright for himself, but instead, he shrugged, taking his refilled drink in hand before leaning his head back to take a good, long swig. The liquid was warm on his tongue and smooth easing down his throat. For a second, he was able to pretend that he was doing better than what he was, but he wasn't about to allow himself to get too absorbed in those thoughts—not with Melody sitting beside him anyway. He remembered her well enough, he supposed, though they had never been close. She hadn't been part of his class, but she wasn't rich, either. No, Melody Cannon had fallen somewhere in the middle, and she had the looks, the personality, and the courage to range in any of society's categories.

Still, Darry figured it really didn't matter anymore. High school was long over, the social class divide wasn't really an issue that he found himself involved in, and he wasn't looking to get himself caught up in the past for days gone by.

Glory.

He answered Melody honestly, or as honestly as he could. "I could say the same."

Melody raised an arched eyebrow, strawberry hair spilling over her one shoulder as she shifted on the bar stool yet again. She had recognized Darrel Curtis immediately, although he didn't look the same as she quite recalled. No, he was worn now, and instead of being met with bright eyes, she was greeted by a tired, rundown expression. She remembered him as a teenager—popular, well liked, a lot of friends, and favored by teachers and parents alike. She always thought that he was something special, someone who was going to go real far in life, but she also remembered his parents and the shocking news of their untimely deaths. But that was a long time ago now, and Melody had left Tulsa to live in Memphis, Tennessee for a few years before making her way back to her old hometown. It had been a surprise to bump into Darry at a cheap bar on a Friday night, and the twenty-six year old young woman wondered what he had done with himself in the past eight years.

Something told her not to inquire right then, though; Darry Curtis looked like the last thing he wanted to discuss was his life, and Melody wasn't the type to pry anyway.

Instead, she placed a hand on his, a grin appearing on her small mouth. "You want to dance?"

Darry, even though he was somewhat stunned by the question, found himself nodding. He followed her out to the middle of the dingy bar, joining a few other couples who were there either to get wasted, or to find some action. Melody pressed herself close to him, and he found himself inching closer to her as well, his muscles relaxing as they easily moved to the music for a while. They engaged in small talk here and there, and the more Darry spoke, the more relaxed he became. The smoke in the air was making the room foggy, and the smell of liquor and intoxication was strong around him, mixed potently with whatever perfume Melody was wearing.

Maybe this is what he needed, or maybe it was the alcohol in his system coercing him along. Either way, he didn't mind, and he didn't mind when Melody—frisky dame that she had always been—gave him a look, a sparkle in her eyes as she gently pulled him toward the door, her smaller hand warm in his own.

"Ella!"

Jesus Christ almighty, but where in the fuck was that girl? Dallas's mouth thinned as he pressed his lips together, blue eyes piercing as he poked his head through the front door, calling her name again, only louder. Hell, they had been working the ranch together like this for nearly two years, and for the life of him, Dallas couldn't understand why in the fuck Ella couldn't move her ass quick enough to be on time. It seemed funny, in some twisted way, as Ella used to be the organized and disciplined one, and now she was . . . He wasn't sure what to call it, but she was something.

They had been living together on and off for a good, long time now. Joe Merril (Buck's cousin) had given Dallas his old house, glad to officially get it off his hands. Dallas, though, had considered selling it a few times, because it needed a lot of work. It was old, outdated, and not worth what it needed done it terms of price. In some way, Dallas was glad to have a place of his own where no one could tell him what to do, or how to live, or . . . anything. Ella, honestly, was a guest, but she had kept a lot of her shit there because they worked the ranch together and tended to the horses every morning. They were only a half hour or so out of Tulsa, but it was both close and far enough for Dallas's liking. He and Ella got on alright, but they weren't an official couple or anything, and Dallas would be lying if he said he had been faithful to her. She knew it, though, but she never said anything to him. It wasn't like she was seeing anyone anyway. For whatever fucked up reason, Ella always came back to him, and he always found himself coming back to her, whether it was to smoke cigarettes on the porch together at night, talk about this and that, or sleep together—there was always something there.

In reality, Ella was Dallas's link to the past and the present, and some part of her presence kept him grounded. She pissed him off more times than none, though, and sometimes, he really wanted to knock her into the next millennium. They fought like cat and dog, irritated each other to no end, and there were times when they challenged each other. Still, Dallas had never actually thrown her out, and even when she left, he would always welcome her back in his own way when she decided to come sticking her nose around again. They would never admit it to each other, but there was some part of the two of them that didn't want the other to leave.

With patience finally wearing off, Dallas kicked his boot clad foot against the frame of the door and made his way inside, the screen banging as it bounced twice off of it.

He found her in the bedroom, her body still curled up in bed, the blankets heavy over her small frame, hair a mess as she slept soundly. Well, that was too fucking bad, he thought bitterly, and walked over to rip the comfort of the blankets away, his hand swatting her rear as she jumped up in stark shock, eyes broad like the devil was after her.

"Dallas!" she half yelled, voice still thick with sleep. "What's wrong with you?"

He wanted to ask her where to begin on that one, but he wasn't in the mood right then. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he bit out instead, jaw clenching. "We're supposed to be leaving now, or did you forget that?" He threw some clothes in her direction. "Get dressed, would ya? You have five minutes, or I'm leaving your ass here to walk."

Ella wanted to tell him what he could do with himself, but chose to bite her tongue on that instead. She was still drowsy, and the last thing she wanted to do was argue with Dallas. She could just stay in bed, but she needed the extra money, and she didn't have a car at the moment since the one Jan gave her was getting worked on by Steve Randle down at the DX. Dallas was her only way to and from work, and she knew that, and she also knew that he would hold true to his word. He had done it before in the past when she ran late, and because he couldn't wait five lousy more minutes, she had missed work at both the ranch and the hospital.

With a sigh, Ella began getting dressed, before making her way to the bathroom to freshen up as quickly as she could. She didn't really care how she looked, since she was only going to clean up horse shit at the stables. Besides, it was four in the morning, and her appearance wasn't something she was overly concerned about at that particular moment. Her stomach growled, alerting her that she needed to eat, and she sincerely hoped that Dallas would stop to grab something either before or after work.

It took all of a few minutes for her to finish getting ready, and then she made her way out to the truck, climbing into the passenger seat a moment later. There was a glare on Dallas's face as he practically jammed the gearshift in drive, pulling out of the driveway and onto the dirt road in front of the house, dust flying up in the air behind them. Ella leaned back in the seat, closing her eyes for a minute or so to collect herself. If she was being honest, she sometimes found herself wondering how she ever ended up in this predicament, not that she truly had anything against her life and the road it had taken in the past few years. It's just that, in some way, she found that she was almost jealous of her two closest females friends—Evie and Mary. Evie was getting married in early December, and Mary had went to Europe to visit Scotland and Greece. She and Soda had been an item for nearly two years straight, and somehow this time around, they had managed to hold onto their relationship while being apart for lengths at a time.

Ella had to hand it to the two of them. She knew that Mary loved Soda more than anything, and she knew, especially from Ponyboy, that Soda was deeply in love with Mary. It was the kind of love that Ella imagined only existed in books or movies, not in real life. In some way, she thought of Soda and Mary as a realistic fairy tale of some sort. Oh, they had their issues, as all couples do, but there was a part of Ella that wished she had what they did, or hell, even what Evie and Steve had.

She was content, in her own way, with her life. She was still living with Jan, even though her time was split between her and Dallas. Dallas wasn't her boyfriend, though, and Ella had long ago accepted that they probably wouldn't last in a committed relationship. They had an understanding, and they lived with it, and that was all their was to it. In her heart, though, Ella knew that Dallas loved her . . . and she could remember the night he had said it to her with innate clarity. He knew that she was in love with him, no matter how much he pissed her off, or drove her up a wall and then some. He was the only one who could do it to her, make her hate him so much that she loved him more.

Still, Ella sometimes wished that things could be different, but in some way, she was grateful that Dallas was in her life.

He shot her a look, his voice breaking her out of her thoughts. "You hungry?"

"Starved," she answered, and pushed herself to sit upright in the seat. "I didn't eat anything for dinner last night."

The blond wanted to roll his eyes. Perhaps they weren't together, but Dallas wasn't stupid—far from, actually. He noticed a lot about Ella, paid attention to the little things that most people didn't. He saw a lot of her, mostly because she half-lived with him, and he had noticed that she was getting thinner. Hell, Ella had always been small-framed and petite, insignificant in size. He wouldn't lie, though, she could hold her own . . . for the most part. He briefly wondered if she was trying one of those stupid diets Evie had been doing for the past few months . . . Something about reaching the perfect wedding size, or some bullshit or another. He couldn't remember, and truthfully, he didn't care none. What he did care about was the annoyance he was beginning to feel at Ella's groaning stomach.

"For Pete's sake," he growled out, and jerked the wheel as he pulled out onto the highway. "When is the last time you ate something?"

Ella shrugged aimlessly. "I don't know. Does it matter?"

"It does when I have to listen to your stomach growling like that."

The young woman rolled her eyes. Dallas was such a crab in the morning. She knew he was looking out for her in his own messed up way, and she honestly didn't mind that. It was the way he got so worked up and bent out of shape at such mediocre things. She would admit that he was much more calm than when they had first met several years ago, and she could appreciate that. She was quite hungry, though, and her stomach was beginning to hurt from lack of nourishment. It was strange, she supposed, how she never felt hungry until her body was demanding food. She had lost a bit of weight, which was evident in the way her clothes were beginning to fit, and a lot of times, she felt more tired than what was probably considered normal.

She didn't feel sick, though, and she didn't want to worry anyone, so she kept it to herself and continued on as though nothing were the matter—which there wasn't, or so she kept telling herself. In her mind, she knew the truth, having already seen a doctor after the incident had occurred. It was a haunting memory, and Ella didn't want to ever think about, or remember, it, so she played it cool and tried her best to keep herself distracted. Perhaps it was wrong of her to keep it from Dallas, especially him, but there was a small piece of her that was too nervous to ever mention it to him.

She imagined herself telling him plenty of times, imagined a million different scenarios playing through her mind before tears welled up in her eyes and she forced every one of those thoughts away.

No, it was best to leave certain things alone.

It was another second or so before Dallas reached over and turned the radio on, his fingers tapping the side of the steering wheel to the song that was playing.

". . . and sometimes I think that Evie should've taken that trip to Greece with Mary," Steve went on to say, shaking his head as he did. "I love her to death, but she sure knows how to get on my fucking nerves."

Soda laughed, taking a swig of his beverage as he listened to Steve rant. "You wouldn't have it any other way, buddy."

The darker-haired man couldn't help the curve of his mouth at the statement. It was a fact that he could never imagine anyone else annoying him for the rest of his life the way that Evie did. Sometimes, he really wanted to tell her to quit yapping at him, because all she did was go on and on and on about their upcoming wedding—and everything had to be perfect, and this and that . . . and glory hallelujah, but Steve felt like his head was about to explode. He would have been fine with something small and simple, something mediocre, but he had let Evie do whatever she wanted, let her plan out the wedding of her dreams along with Mrs. Martin and Beth. He left everything up to her, which was just peachy with him, but then he had to listen to her go on about it every time that they were together, and it seemed that it was the only thing they ever spoke about anymore. Yeah, he really wished that Evie would have taken a long ass vacation with Mary.

Perhaps her raving about their marriage wouldn't be so irritating.

"When's Mary due back?"

Soda's brows pressed together. "End of the month sometime." His voice had dropped an octave as he answered, becoming more flat. It was no secret that he missed Mary something awful, and there was a selfish part of him that wished she hadn't decided to travel. Of course, he knew that it was her dream to do so, and he would never interfere with that or her choices. He did want her to have those experiences, even if it meant that he would be staying behind. A lot had happened in the past two years where it concerned their relationship, and while Soda would honestly say that he was real happy with Mary and his relationship with her, he wished some things could be a little different. For one, Mary was loaded with money, could do whatever she wanted when she wanted. Soda wasn't so lucky in that particular department. No, he had a decent amount put away, but he still helped Darry with the bills and lived on whatever he brought home from the DX, a place he never thought he would be working at again. He could have gone back to Giberson's Auto, only it had went under new ownership while he was over in Vietnam. They didn't need him anyway. The DX was a last resort for him, a reminder that certain things didn't change. Steve only worked there on weekends, something to get a little extra dough in his pockets and keep himself busy at the same time; he worked full-time at another shop as their lead mechanic. A sigh escaped Soda's lips as he tossed his empty bottle into the trash bin. "I got a letter from her the other day. She really digs it over there."

"I'll bet."

For all his worth, Steve couldn't fathom how Soda and Mary worked their relationship. In his heart, he knew that he would miss Evie to pieces if she decided to up and leave like that, even with the promise that she would be home in a few weeks, or whatever. It wasn't exactly foreign to him, though, just as it wasn't for Soda. The military had taught them how to live without the ones they loved, but it hadn't taught them how to stop missing them.

Soda, ever the optimistic, tried to lighten the mood. "Maybe we'll get married after you an' Evie, and we'll live in Greece or Scotland somewhere."

"If y'all do that, you can tell Mary she's paying for our tickets to visit. Ain't no way that I'm affording that," came the lighthearted response. "She'll probably have to fork it out for Darry and Ponyboy, too, at that rate."

"Well, I'll have to let her know that, before she starts getting too cozy out there."

Steve only chuckled. "You do that. She'll agree to it the day Ponyboy decides to publish that second novel of his."

Though he wasn't upset with his friend's comment, Soda couldn't help but frown. It was no secret that Ponyboy hadn't gone through with a publication for his second novel. He had completed it nearly two years ago, but refused to have it published. Soda couldn't understand why, and neither could anyone else for that matter. From what he had read of it, Soda knew that it was good, as was most of his kid brother's writing, but this seemed to be a piece that he wanted to keep to himself. It seemed silly, or at least, to Soda it did. It was much longer than his first novel, more mature, too, and Soda and Darry both thought that it was real good. It was more than apparent how mature Ponyboy had become in just his writing alone, and Soda thought it was a shame to keep something that good to oneself. He remembered asking if it was because two of the main characters were based off of him and Mary, but Ponyboy told him that wasn't the case, going on that this particular story was more personal in some way, and he wasn't sure that he was really ready to share it just yet.

Soda wondered if that day would ever come at all.

He shrugged almost lethargically. "Who knows, maybe he'll get some inspiration when he starts his internship at Will Roger's."

"Yeah," Steve replied sarcastically, "because that place is just oozing with positive motivators." He offered Soda a sideways glance. "When does he start?"

"November, I think."

"Ain't that somethin' . . ."

The golden-haired man hopped down from the cabinet he had been lounging on, tossing a rag at his friend. It was almost comical in some way that Ponyboy would be interning at their old high school, but it was his desire to become an English teacher, so that was where he was headed. Soda was awfully proud of that kid, real proud. He was going places, following his dreams and making something of himself. That's all he and Darry ever wanted for him. Hell, that's what all of them ever wanted for him. He had the brains and ambition to see things through, and Soda couldn't wait to cheer him on all the way. Glory, but it sure was going to be something when he graduated college come next June. It was still shocking to even think that Ponyboy was old enough to be graduating college, let alone get an internship at the high school he used to attend.

Damn.

Steve's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Let's finish the Olds. I wanna get Ella's car out of this garage before next week is over."

A grin flashed across the younger man's face as he headed over to the Oldsmobile. It might have been a Saturday afternoon, but he wasn't complaining at all. He enjoyed all of the extra hours, because it gave him a distraction, plus a nice bonus in his paycheck—and he was doing something that he was good at, which allowed him to enjoy it in the process. He agreed with Steve on getting Ella Mitchell's car out of there, though, having heard plenty from Ella herself about how awful it could be relying on Dally Winston for a ride to and from work every day, even though they lived together.

Soda shook his head. Those two were something else.

Spending a Saturday night at the bar wasn't something Darry usually did. It wasn't something he was overly fond of doing, either, but on this particular night, he had found something to go back to—or rather . . . someone. Now, Melody Cannon wasn't exactly the type of girl he hung around with, but in all honesty, Darry couldn't quite remember when the last time he truly spent time with any girl was. It seemed like forever (and then some) ago that he had a girl to call his own, and the night that he had spent with Melody seemed to spark an old flame that he had long ago put out. Realistically, he just didn't have the time to invest in a relationship, and he didn't want to drag anyone into his family issues, either. No, he had spent his time at work and looking out for his brothers, or worrying himself sick because of some of their choices. In the end, he had to admit that they had both done alright for themselves, and he was proud of them.

Soda—especially Soda—was always harping on him that he didn't need to lookout for them so much anymore, that he had plenty of time to do whatever he wanted. Darry knew that he was right, but there was still some part of him that didn't feel at ease enough to really enjoy something for himself without worrying about everything else. It just didn't feel right. The twenty-six year old had to remind himself that both of his kid brothers had basically lived on their own and were taking care of themselves, for the most part. They were adults now, could handle themselves and their problems without him. Some part of that truth stung a little, though he would never admit it out loud.

Now, though, there was another part of him that wanted to see Melody again. She offered him some form of excitement, and he had to admit that he did enjoy her company. She was a good listener, she didn't pry, and she somehow seemed to know exactly what he needed. She was a wild thing alright, but she wasn't over the top or too outlandish for his taste, and when she had asked him to meet her again that night, Darry couldn't deny that he had been looking forward to it, almost immediately agreeing to do so.

He had even attempted to make himself more presentable for her this time around, even though he thought it was a ridiculous idea trying to impress her at this point in the game. Hell, the first night they had bumped into each other found them tangled up in her bed-sheets at the motel she was staying at. It had been years since they had seen each other, and it only took a few hours for the two of them to get that cozy with each other. But still, the fact remained that something about Melody caused him to want to see her again, want to be in her company. Hell, maybe Soda and Ponyboy both were right—it had been far too long since he'd been with a gal.

Glory.

Melody, though . . . she was interesting, and Darry wouldn't deny that he had always been a curious guy. He wanted to know more about her, what she had done with her life after high school, what she had accomplished . . .

He wanted to shake his head, tell himself he must have been coming down with something to feel so caught up in a girl he hadn't seen or heard from in over eight years. They had never been close, never bothered to hangout, or anything. Unfortunately for him, the only thing he would be able to diagnose himself with would be the lovesick blues.

When he saw Melody strutting inside the smoky room only a few minutes later, a smile crossed his face as his eyes lit up. She had spotted him easily enough, and then she was seated beside him once again on the bar-stool to his right, her lips curving up into a sly smirk.

"Fancy meeting you here."

Darry grinned wider, the smell of her peppermint gum and sandalwood perfume wafting its way into his nostrils. "I could say the same."

It's the honky tonk women

That gimme, gimme, gimme the honky tonk blues

It's certainly been a while, hasn't it?

What was originally supposed to be one story ("Green Light"), which was started five years ago, has now become a series of four. I can't believe it myself, but here we are! This story takes place after "Thunder Road".

As always, thank you for reading! Feedback is never expected, but always appreciated! :3

—Cat