Dead?
How could that happen?
That had to be some kind of joke, the cops just trying to scare me. Nobody dies from a little cut, not even soc's.
That moment was suddenly clear in my mind again, my knife going up into his chest. I didn't want to remember how mad I had been, how fast I had thrust. It took more than that to kill people, it took more, and then an older memory was in my mind, the knife falling again and again…
I grabbed for my glass of whisky, missed, knocked it clean off the bar.
Curly, Wade and Buck had all been staring at the t.v screen still, and jumped when it smashed into the silence.
"Shit" Curly breathed out, his voice hushed.
I looked down at the shattered glass and pooling whisky beneath my chair. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, Curly fumbling with his cigarettes, Buck getting another glass out, dropping ice into it, reaching for the top shelf.
"Hurry the fuck up" I wanted to yell at him, but it seemed like it would take me too long to say.
I felt like I needed to wake up.
"Here Tim" Curly said, his voice so gentle I wanted to put his teeth through his lip. I turned to see him holding a cigarette out to me.
His face was hard and calm, but his hand was shaking slightly as I took the smoke off him.
"Good going Tim. It's on me buddy."
Buck passed me the glass of whisky.
"Good going kid" I had said to Ponyboy the night of the last big rumble, the night Dallas and Johnny died.
It was always good when soc's got killed, no doubt. Good when other people did it. For all my bad rep, I had never gone that far myself before. I had never wanted to be my father.
"Tim, you oughta get outta town" Curly said, twisting around to scan the windows urgently. "The cops'll be everywhere."
I threw back the whisky and shoved the glass toward Buck for another before speaking.
"I ain't going nowhere. Damn it sure don't take a lot to kill a soc', fucking soft little bastards."
I couldn't get my head around the fact it had happened. How could it be so easy, I could kill someone without even meaning to? But I guess I should have known how hard a person's life is to hold on to.
I glanced at my little brother, who was beside me swilling back his own drink.
He turned and for a second I held his gaze, then turned away again.
I don't look into his eyes too often, it's like being drawn into a whirlpool. The pull toward that still, deep sadness in the centre of him.
I know people see his long, blank stares and think he's dumb, but it's just the unformed part of him, the memories locked away. The part of him that's forever the six year old child who watched his parents die.
"So, that's two soc's down, how many we got left?" Curly joked.
He grinned at me, his face hollowed in shadow under the dim lights of the bar.
Sometimes I can hardly believe he's only three years younger than me, it feels like a lifetime.
"Hey you ain't a killer, you're a fucking hero" Wade said to me, leaning across the bar to knock his glass against mine.
A killer and a hero. Neither was something I had ever wanted to be, but somehow it came with the territory of what I did want to be, the toughest hood in town.
"Look," Wade said, slurring his words a little. "Fuzz ain't gonna forget this anytime soon. We should get outta here, get down below."
All I wanted to do was stay right where I was and drink myself into the ground.
"Fuck 'em, let them come."
"Nah, Wades right" Curly said, a hint of desperation in his voice. "They know you gonna be hanging out here."
There were right, the cops would be coming here.
And if I did get picked up, what then?
This wasn't something I was going to get out of with thirty days in jail. A greaser killing a soc? They'd bury me in the fucking cell.
But that didn't seem like something that could ever happen. Despite what I'd seen on the news, I couldn't believe that kid was dead. Not really.
I leaned back in my chair a little and looked out the front window. It was dark outside, I could only see the orange glow of street lamps.
"You're gonna have to watch it Tim" Buck said, coming around the bar to mop up the drink I'd spilt.
"Greaser kills a soc' in the town…" He hissed through his teeth and shook his head.
"You could clear out of town, go to California or something" Wade suggested.
"You could disguise yourself" Curly said.
"As what, a fucking soc?" I asked him.
"Or skip right out, clear the border to Mexico…"
"Nah, like grow a moustache or some shit like that" Curly continued, ignoring Wade.
"It's a death penalty state remember, although you could plead insanity…" Buck's voice drifted up from beneath my chair where he was picking up shards of glass.
In their voices I could hear the same strange mix of terror and adrenalin I felt inside myself, and for a second I thought I was gonna pass out right at the bar.
"Fuck this!" I slammed my fist down on the bar, bringing them to a hush. "I ain't going to Mexico, I ain't growing no moustache, and I sure as hell ain't going to the fucking nuthouse!"
I directed the last at Buck, and swung my boot into his ribs to make sure he understood.
"So now, anyone got a halfway decent plan come and see me. Until then, shut the hell up and let's get outta here."
The three of them were all watching me in wary silence. I don't loose my temper too often (except with Curly), and when I do people pay attention.
"Okay, you wanna cruise now?" Wade asked, his tone appeasing.
"Yeah." I glanced out at the night again. "I reckon we should."
Wade pulled his keys out his pocket and promptly dropped them.
"Fuck it" he muttered, scrambling under the bar for them.
"You boys alright to drive now?" Buck asked, like he wasn't the one that just served us all the drinks.
"I drive better when I'm drunk" Wade said confidently, back on his feet.
"Well you take care. You too, this ain't no joke Tim."
"I can handle it" I said coolly to Buck, sliding down from my seat. I don't take no advice from bartenders, that's for sure.
"Where we gonna Tim?" Curly asked, falling into step with me as we left the bar.
I felt a sudden surge of tenderness for him, tight, hard love that I couldn't breathe around. That kid would follow me anywhere, to the ends of the earth, without hesitation.
"I dunno, just find a place to crash for now. I'm too drunk to figure this shit out right now."
The night outside was warm and petrol scented, our shadows stretched long and dark ahead of us as we crossed the parking lot. I looked around carefully, feeling abruptly sober and aware, like I was walking through a war zone or something.
"Where can we stay?" Curly asked.
I swung my fist in an arc, the air around me felt charged and vital, like something you could cut through.
"Come on" hissed Wade, unlocking his car with an unsteady hand.
Driving through the streets, I felt my mood getting higher and higher. I knew I should be terrified, or full of regret, but I just felt tense and pumped up.
Wade headed back for the East side, skirting round the busy part of town where cops were more likely to be.
"I guess we can't go anywhere they expect you to go" Wade said.
"Nah."
I leaned my head against the window, my good mood starting to sink as fast as it had risen.
Where was I gonna go? I couldn't spend the rest of my life slinking round Tulsa at night, hiding out at people's houses.
"How 'bout Julia's house?" Curly suggested a teasing note in his voice.
Julia was my most recent ex-girlfriend, and the daughter of a local police officer.
Wade laughed and yanked on the wheel, suddenly realizing he was headed for the gutter.
"I reckon that sure is the last place they'd expect you to be."
I wound my window down a crack to get some fresh air, I could feel all those whiskys rolling around in my stomach.
"I guess I should have stuck with her huh, maybe she could help me out."
"Maybe she will anyway" Curly said. He didn't know anything about girls.
"Sure she will, girls always wanna help you out after you cheat on 'em."
I didn't much like talking about Julia, even though I'd never admit that to anyone. I had really liked her, more than any other girl I had been with.
My other girlfriends had all been so in love with me it was crazy, I could have done anything under the sun to them and they would have let me.
But with Julia, I could never figure out if she actually liked me or just went with me to piss off her father and shock her middle class friends.
I guess when I cheated on her I was kind of testing her. She failed, or passed depending on how you look at it, and dumped me.
"We could go stay with Pony and Soda" Curly said. "They always got people staying over there anyway."
"With who?" Wade asked, sounding amused by the names.
The fact my closest buddy didn't even know who they were made me think Curly had the right idea, it wasn't likely the fuzz would think to look for me there.
"You know Darrel Curtis?" I reminded Wade. "Big guy, started off the action at the rumble last month?"
"Yeah I remember that guy, good fighter."
"That's his little brothers."
"Ya think they would want tougher sounding nicknames."
"I think thoseare their real names man."
"They are," Curly confirmed. "Pony says it even has it on their birth certificates."
"Now that's fucking weird."
"Hell, coming from someone called Wade," Curly said dryly, "was it raining the day you was born or something?"
"Coming from someone called Curly…"
"Yeah, come on boys" I interrupted, not in the mood for their shit. "Lets all just agree, I'm the only one with a normal name."
"Maybe that makes you the weird one" Curly shot back.
I turned and swung a fist at him half heartedly, he ducked and grinned.
"Save that, we gonna need it just now" Wade said, a warning note in his voice. "We got trouble ahead."
A/N: I'm not too good at updating huh…!
Actually I had a hard time deciding what direction to take the story in, as I have three possible endings and I was trying to make up my mind which one to go for.I'm not real happy with this chapter, it's kind of a filler, but decided to post anyway as I needed to move the story along. So feel free to tell me if it sucked!
Trine: I'm really glad you think it's realistic and Tim and Curly aren't out of character. I don't want to make Tim just some mindless thug, but don't want to make him too soft or anything either. It's kind of hard to find a balance!
NittanyLizard: Thanks for the American terms. Actually I keep accidentally dropping in heaps of New Zealand slang, and have to go back and edit it all out! Also trying not to use modern day slang, I just realized I have Ponyboy saying "whatever" at one point which is probably not what they said…
Foxfyre33: I didn't know about having Tim feel guilty I almost took it out, but in the end figured he does love his little brother so it's only natural he would feel bad about it, no matter how much of a hood he is.
Kate: What now? Wish I knew:) Well that's what I've been trying to decide on, I've made up my mind now but sometimes the characters won't do what their supposed to, so it may change!
NalunaSolna: Thanks for the review, it is really encouraging to hear that people like how I am writing Tim and Curly. I found it hard to get into Tim's character, and when I posted this storythought I might get a whole bunch of flamers going what the hell are you doing? And I'm glad you agree with me about Angela, as I really didn't want to put her in. Since then I have realized it is okay to have quite a bit of "artistic license" on this site anyway!
Aurorababe: I'm glad you like Tim and Curly's relationship, as it's actually the part I enjoy writing most. I have to remind myself to put other characters in too!
Dreamerforlyf: Yeah I see what you mean! I just wanted a reason to put those jokes in because I thought they were kinda funny, so Robert Casey was the unlucky one chosen to be a smartarse.
Starbryte234: It was the cops actually, but I changed it at the last minute because I was having fun with Tim being on the run!
Streetpanther: I guess that's why we write these stories right, so we can live the greaser life in our imaginations! All of the fun and none of the bad stuff like getting beat up and going to jail.