A/N: Hairbo and Tensleep, I will change the first paragraph if you want. There is a scene in this chapter from the original book. I don't own any of that. I don't own any other original character, either. Thanks so much for the reviews. I'm so glad I finally get to share this.

Chapter 10: On Saturday Night

The Dingo, where the Curtises and the rest of the gang spent many hours, was long gone, and in its stead was a country-western sports bar called Hairbo's Ten. No one was quite sure what the name meant, but it was close and rumored to be fun, so Cinnamon, Clint, Pony and Michelle piled into the rental car to check it out.

It'd been a hassle getting them out of the house. Laura offered to babysit – both the younger children and her uncle -- and Soda intended to meet them after he closed the station. He was going to stop at home first and see if Darry felt well enough to come out at all, even for an hour.

Darry had insisted they go. "Don't plan around me," he said. "I won't know until the last minute if I want to go, so y'all should go ahead."

Cinnamon checked four times to be sure Laura had all the appropriate cell phone numbers, hovering anxiously, until finally the teenager said, "Aunt Cinny. With all due respect and all that, I know Uncle Darry's sick. I've been helping take care of him since March. We're fine. Please just go. And stop feeling guilty, we can't just sit around and look at each other. You'll make Uncle Darry mental." She paused. "And me."

Soda had raised a smart girl.

The HT, as the locals called it, had helped bring up the property values in that part of town. When Dingo burned to the ground, the people who bought the land erected a bar where you could dance country line dances, watch football, play pool and drink beer. Some nights there were live bands and stand-up comedy and most nights, it was packed.

The four of them came through the door and were immediately engulfed in an old Patsy Cline song. Cinnamon smiled. "Do you remember how Mom loved Patsy Cline?" she murmured to Ponyboy.

"I do," he answered. "While Dad was blasting Van Halen." He looked around nervously. His hand stole to his mouth, the old chewing-old-the-fingernails habit returning in times of stress.

"What?" his wife asked.

"I was just thinking if it was a good idea to leave Darry."

"He's fine with Laura." Michelle gently pulled his hand down. "Sweetie, this is like a date. Imagine. I don't remember the last time we did this."

"I do," Pony said. "The last time we had a real date, you got pregnant with Danny."

Cinnamon clapped her hands over her ears. "Eww… ewww… Ponyboy – quit it!"

"Did you think Danny came by stork?" Michelle asked, amused.

"No, but I don't have to know. Pony's my baby brother and I don't need to know what he's doing after dates. Ew." Cinnamon was visibly squirming. Ponyboy busted out laughing, probably the hardiest laugh he'd enjoyed since he and Michelle and Danny got off the plane from Salt Lake City.

Clinton shook his head. "I'm getting beers. Everyone?" Pony, Michelle and Cinnamon all nodded and Clint disappeared toward the bar. The other three found a small table in the corner of the room, far enough from the dance floor to not be deafened by the music but close enough to watch.

"Praise Allah and Buddha and Jesus Christ Himself – is that Ponyboy Curtis? And is that your beautiful sister with you?"

They looked blankly at the man standing next to the table, grinning at them like a fool, and then Ponyboy leaped to feet to hug him.

"Two-Bit!"

And it was. As soon as Pony said it, Cinnamon recognized the wide, broad grin and the rust-colored mustache. His face and belly were rounder and his hair was grayer, but it was definitely him.

"What are you doing here?" Cinnamon asked as she hugged their old friend.

"Headlining."

"Excuse me?"

"Headlining," Two-Bit repeated, pointing to a sign behind them. None of them had noticed it when they sat down. "Tonight only, Tulsa's own Two-Bit Mathews!"

"You sing?" Pony asked.

"Well, yeah, but badly, and that's not why I'm here."

"Stand-up," Cinnamon said. "Gotta be."

Pony pulled a fifth chair to the table as Clint came back with the beer. They made quick introductions. Clint and Michelle, of course, had heard of Two-Bit, but had never met him. Cinnamon and Pony hadn't seen him in more than a decade.

"Can we get you a drink?" Clint asked him.

Two-Bit grinned and held up his bottle of root beer. "Not for me, thanks. I ain't had a drink in six years and three months."

"Two-Bit, that's terrific," Pony said. Two-Bit's frequent brushes with petty theft and his love of liquor had lasted well into his thirties and all four Curtises harbored a secret fear they'd read about his accidental death one day.

"I go to the program," Two-Bit said. "Makes me a better dad."

"Dad? You've got kids?" Cinnamon asked, fishing in her purse for photos of Johnny and Sarah. "How many? How old?"

Three, as it turned out. Two-Bit's marriage had not survived his alcoholism, but sobriety had done wonders for the relationship with his sons D.J. and Kevin and his daughter Melissa. They swapped pictures and stories about their kids and were about to begin stories about who worked where doing what, when the band swung into, "The Devil Went Down To Georgia." Two-Bit took Cinnamon's hand, looking to Clint. "Mind if I borrow your wife?"

"Just bring her back," Clint said, amused, and Two-Bit whirled Cinnamon onto the dance floor.

He took a deep swallow of his Budweiser and said to Pony, "That man's a nut."

"You sent your wife off with him, who's the nut?" Pony returned.

"True enough," Clint said amiably, toasting Pony with his bottle.

"Pony, honey, dance with me," Michelle said.

"To this?"

"You haven't danced with me in public since our wedding," she scolded.

"There's a reason for that, Shelly," he returned. "It's because I suck."

Michelle opened her mouth to argue, then her eyes glided past Pony. "Fine. Then I'll go dance with that guy."

And a minute later, she was on the floor with Sodapop, whom she'd ambushed as he came in the door.

Clint and Ponyboy watched their wives dancing and Pony said abruptly to Clint, "You're good for my sister."

"Because I let her dance with Two-Bit? Shit, I don't let Cinnamon do anything. She's one independent lady."

"You let her name Johnny," Pony pointed out. "I'll never forget how she called up and said, 'Pony, it's a boy, and his name is John Darrel, for Dad and Darry and Johnny.' And I was thinking, man, I wouldn't be so keen on my wife naming my first-born son after her first love."

"He's dead, Pony," Clinton said simply. "He wins. And it meant the world to Cinnamon. How could I say no?"

There was no malice or sarcasm in his voice. He was simply stating a fact.

"Besides, he sounds like he was a good guy," Clint said. "You name your kid after a good guy, that's cool."

On the dance floor, the music had slowed down, and Cinnamon and Two-Bit were doing a sort of waltz.

"You been on my list," Two-Bit said. "You and Pony both. Bet that's why I ran into you."

"What list?"

"My amends list."

"Ah." As a nurse, Cinnamon sometimes recommended Alcoholics Anonymous to her patients and had a passing knowledge of how the program worked. "Where you apologize for stuff you did, that part?"

"Yup."

"What in the world do you have to apologize to me for?" Cinnamon said.

Two-Bit smiled at her. "For the night Johnny died."

Cinnamon's mouth fell open.

"I know you remember, Cinny," Two-Bit said gently. "I didn't handle that whole thing very well."

Ponyboy stumbled into the house, battered and dazed. The rest of the boys had been home for quite a while and Darry was just starting to worry.

"Where have you been?" Darry demanded, and then, seeing the sick look on Pony's face, amended gently, "Ponyboy, what's the matter?"

"Johnny … he's dead. We told him about beatin' the Socs and … I don't know, he just died."

Cinnamon was sitting on the arm of the sofa, painting iodine on Two-Bit's busted knuckles, ready to wrap them up. She looked up sharply. "Ponyboy, you shut your mouth."

"Dally's gone, he couldn't take it --"

"Liar!" Cinnamon screeched, jumping to her feet. The iodine fell to the floor and shattered as she advanced on her brother. "Shut your mouth!"

Her hands were raised, as if to push Ponyboy, and Two-Bit grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back onto the sofa. She struggled, still yelling at Ponyboy, who was starting to shake. "Liar! I hate you! Why are you such a liar?" Pony could do nothing but back away from his hysterical sister, who was trying mightily to get away from Two-Bit. Two-Bit grabbed her and shook her hard, then slapped her cheek. The sound seemed incredibly loud.

"Jesus Christ, Cinnamon, shut up," he said coldly. "You ain't gonna make him undead by hollerin' like that."

He'd always thought Darry would have busted his ass good if the phone hadn't rung then. Then, in the aftermath, the incident went out of everyone's head.

"I was half-drunk, beat up, and – and I couldn't believe Johnny was dead," Two-Bit said now. "But that was the worst possible thing to say, and I never should have hit you."

"It's ancient history," Cinnamon said quickly. "It's not --"

"Can I finish?" Two-Bit interrupted quietly. "I won't if it's making you upset."

Cinnamon hesitated, then nodded.

"That Saturday, after y'all came back from Windrixville, we went looking for you to come with us to the hospital," he said. "We didn't know you were already there until we got there ourselves. And I saw you sitting there next to Johnny, and bang, I knew. It was like someone had painted a big sign on the wall, that y'all were together. So when I hit you and told you to shut up ... it was because my head was hurting and I couldn't think, and I knew that would hush you. I wasn't trying to make you feel better. I even knew it would hurt you, but everything was all about me then." He looked her directly. "I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I never ratted out that Pony was sick before the rumble."

"That wouldn't have made a bit of difference," Cinnamon said.

"Maybe not, but I'm sorry all the same."

The music stopped. Dancers walked off of the dance floor, but Cinnamon and Two-Bit stood in the middle, hugging.

It took four games of Candyland, watching "Shark Tale" for the sixth time, and two games of Clue before Sarah, Johnny and Danny were all sleep. Laura got them settled in her room before returning to her uncle. Darry was in his bed, leaning over, trying to see underneath.

"Hey, you need anything?" she asked softly.

"Colonel Mustard," Darry answered. "I don't know where he got to."

Laura rummaged her hands through the sheets and finally came up with the game piece under the extra pillow. If she counted up all the hours, she'd probably spent days of her childhood playing board games and cards with her father and uncle. Darry taught her math and poker at the same time, and by the time she was six, she could play a mean five-card stud.

Darry caught the pensive look on Laura's face. "What is it, honey?" he asked gently.

"Nothing, really. I just love you, Uncle Darry," she said, stacking the pieces in the box. "I wish I could do something to help you."

Darry smiled at her. "Actually, little one, there is something you can do." He patted the bed. "Come sit down with me and let me ask you a favor."