15. Employment

I put the phone back on the receiver, glancing over my shoulder at the guy waiting behind me to use the payphone, and headed back to James's apartment. Despite talking to Johnny and feeling better about...well, about everything, I still had those awful nightmares just about every night, and I was exhausted. I'd just somehow managed to stop screaming so much. The asshole had taught me that particular lesson.

Every night for the first week or so, I'd wake up screaming, and he'd come in, giving me a punch in the nose for waking him, or sometimes grabbing me and throwing me onto the floor, his foot finding my stomach or side. He liked kicking people when they were down. After that first week, I'd managed to stop screaming so much. I guess fear of getting beat up was a pretty good motivator. Some nights, I'd just stay awake, staring at the ceiling in the dark. Then after I'd tried telling the social worker and being brought back to that hellhole, I hadn't slept in that room much anymore…actually, I hadn't slept much at all.

I couldn't remember all of the nightmares. Some of them were just like the ones that I'd started having after our parents died. Glory, those had freaked Darry and Soda out. Soda had started sleeping in my room, his arm around me, and that had helped. Darry's idea had been to take me to the doctor, who had suggested more exercise, me reading, basically just exhausting myself before bed so I wouldn't dream, but that hadn't worked too well. Sodapop's presence had helped a lot more. It had made me feel safe, even in my sleep, to know that my big brother was there and that he'd protect me. But without him, first at the boy's home, and then at the foster home, they had gotten worse.

Some, though, I could remember. Dreams about a funeral. Sometimes my own, sometimes Darry's or Soda's. Those were the worst. I'd wake up sobbing, so desperate to talk to my brothers, but knowing there was no way I could. It would hurt so much my heart would feel like it was breaking and my stomach would knot, and I'd rock back and forth in the bed at the boy's home, my arms tight around myself and I'd pretend that Soda was there, holding me, or that Darry was sitting on the bed with me, rubbing my back and promising that everything would be okay. Other times I would dream about going home. Those were almost worse. I'd wake up, the hope rising up in my throat and turning into sobs when I realized where I was. Where I wasn't.

I pushed those thoughts away as I walked down the street, hands in my pockets, toward the apartment. I didn't want to remember that. I didn't want to think about the nights I'd spent curled up in a ball in some bed by myself, crying and missing my family so bad everything seemed to actually hurt. I didn't want to remember being alone. I had Johnny now, and I'd talked to Darry and he knew I was okay. He'd sounded so relieved...and I knew he missed me. That made me feel better somehow, that my brother missed me. Even after how we'd parted, I'd been scared that he'd been glad to get rid of me.

Talking to Darry had been...fantastic. I'd missed him so much, and the whole time I'd been talking to him, I'd felt like I might start crying right out in public in front of everyone...well...everyone out at 6 am. Then Steve had wanted to talk to me...he'd actually asked Darry to give him the phone so he could talk to me. Called me a little shit and everything, just like old times.

I was surprised to realize I actually missed Steve. It had been good to talk to him...to have him assure me that they were being careful. That they were looking out for each other. I glanced back at the phone, wishing I could call Darry again...ask him if I could talk to Soda. And Two-Bit, if he was around. I hadn't asked about Two-Bit. Or Soda...or any of them. Why hadn't I asked how they were doing? I swore I would the next time I called. But I'd give it a day or two, and make sure I called when everyone would be awake and have time to talk. Not to mention, I was still worried they would somehow trace the call...figure out where I was calling from.

I slipped into the apartment and found Johnny sitting up in his nest of blankets, grinning up at me as he rubbed his eyes. "Hey man. Where you been? I woke up and you were gone." He didn't sound upset, but I could tell he'd been worried.

I'd forgotten what it felt like to have someone else care what I was up to...who noticed when I took off. The only time Richard had ever noticed me had been when I'd been in his way. "Couldn't sleep," I told him, dropping my eyes and then dropping onto the sofa. "I called Darry."

"Yeah?" He leaned in a little, and I shrugged, wondering why it was hard for me to talk to him when it had always been so easy before. It had been so long since I'd really talked to him…or anyone, for that matter. I'd gotten into the habit of keeping everything to myself. But Johnny was like a third brother, always had been, and he'd worry if I just took off. I swore I'd remember to let him know if I was going somewhere next time. I hated the thought of him regretting coming here.

"Yeah," I made myself say, trying to meet his eyes. I only managed it for a few seconds before I had to look down. "Yeah, it was...it was great to talk to him. We hadn't...not since that day…when I had to go. And…I was able to call Soda but not Darry from that boy's home and…the foster home."

Johnny climbed to his feet, moving over to the sofa beside me, his arm draping around my shoulders.

For some reason, my eyes were hot and I wiped at them, hoping he didn't notice. If he did, he didn't say anything. Instead, he just patted my back, waiting. He always knew when I needed to talk and when I just needed to sit, working up to it.

"I thought Darry hated me, you know? Before...I thought he wanted to get rid of me. But...that was before I found out...before I found out what it was like to live with someone that actually hated me." I snorted a little, but Johnny was quiet on the sofa beside me. It wasn't funny...not really, but I couldn't believe I'd thought Darry had hated me. Compared to Richard...well...there was no comparison. "What are we gonna do, man?" I finally asked, voicing the question at last. "I mean...I just…" I shrugged, pulling my sleeves down when they started to creep up, despite how hot it was.

Johnny noticed, of course. He didn't say anything, though...not about that. "We'll go look around today...see if anyone's hiring," he told me instead, sounding so sure it was almost comforting.

"Hiring underage greasers?"

He laughed a little at my forced joke, and I made myself smile.

"I'm seventeen, Pone, old enough to get a job, and you look at least sixteen." I didn't believe him, but it was nice of him to say anyway. "How else are we supposed to buy cigarettes?"

I shook my head. "I haven't smoked in a while," I admitted, hating the shame I felt at that, and the pit that opened up in my stomach when I thought about lighting a cigarette...how I tensed, like I was waiting for the pain. He'd done it...he'd made me quit smoking in the end.

"Yeah…probably not a bad idea to quit. It's expensive. Bad for you too, I guess…" He glanced over at me again. "Does it hurt?" he asked, nodding toward my arms.

I tugged at my sleeves again. He hadn't seen the marks, and I didn't want him to. "No...not anymore," I lied a little. Some of the last ones he'd given me still stung when I touched them, the blisters white and tender.

He patted me on the back again, then jumped to his feet. Used to, it had been me looking out for us, or so it had always seemed. Johnny was usually real quiet, so I'd talked for him sometimes when I knew he wasn't comfortable. Now it was like we were acting like the other, me real quiet and him taking charge. I didn't mind too much.

"Come on. Let's get dressed and go. There's got to be some place around here willing to hire us. If we're gonna eat, we gotta get money somehow."

"Yeah…"

"Come on, Pone. It's gonna be fine." He reached out a hand, and I grabbed it after a second, pulling myself up and finally smiling for real.

"You think so?"

He grinned. "I know so. Come on. Let's go find a job."

I dressed in the bathroom, changing into one of the other long sleeved shirts Dally had thrown into the bag. Thankfully he hadn't included any short sleeves. I wasn't sure if it had been deliberate...I doubted it. Anyway, I only had about five shirts that I'd been washing in the sink and leaving over the tub to dry...same for all my other laundry. I was sure there was a place where I could wash my laundry around somewhere, but I didn't want to pay for it, so I just used to shower curtain. James didn't seem to care. Some time I might ask him where he did his laundry, but I was kind of scared to talk much to him no matter how friendly he'd seemed once or twice...he could kick me out any time.

Johnny and I headed out, me sweating almost immediately when we stepped outside the door. "You wanna borrow something cooler, man? You're gonna burn up...it's hot up here."

I shook my head. I'd started wearing long sleeves to hide the bruises and burns almost immediately after moving in with Richard. The thought of other people seeing my arms...what that guy had done to me...well, I just didn't want to.

"I'm fine," I assured him.

Nodding and letting it drop, he turned left, moving us in the opposite direction from the bus stop where we'd both arrived. There were corner shops and bakeries and business offices for lawyers and other guys in suits, but neither of us had any experience in any of that. No law office was going to hire us, that was for sure, and to work at a filling station you probably had to have some experience fixing cars, which I didn't.

Sodapop had walked me through the basics, and even Steve had helped out one day, the two of them showing me how to mess around with the engine a little and change a tire. That had been pretty soon after the funeral and Sodapop dropping out of school, and I had the feeling that Steve had just felt sorry for me…or maybe he'd been bored. Either way, I knew how to do basic stuff, but when it came to engines, I still had to be walked through most things. So a filling station was out.

We were getting further and further into the run-down part of the city, and there were fewer and fewer businessmen in suits and more guys that looked like us, but with slicked back hair and leather jackets over tank tops bumming around. Neither of us had any hair grease, so we'd just done the best we could combing our hair back. Some of the guys gathered on street corners, cigarettes in their hands or mouths, and it reminded me of the gang...how we'd all hang out at the DX, smoking and talking. None of them spared us a glance. I figured new people showed up in this city all the time, trying to hide out or make a life up here, then disappearing. It was such a big city, so full of people all in a hurry to go wherever it was they were trying to get, none of them interested in a couple of poor greaser kids desperate to find jobs.

The first place we found with a 'help wanted' sign out front was a filling station with a garage out back. We didn't bother going in. The next place was a convenience store, but the manager took one look at us and told us to beat it, even though the guys working the counter looked greasier than we did. After that we tried a movie house, but the manager wasn't there. There was just a quiet girl behind the register who suggested we come back the next day.

We walked for about two and a half hours, trying diners and movie houses and walking up and down streets without finding a place willing to hire two greasers from Tulsa who'd never had jobs before. I had to admit...I couldn't really blame them. It was almost two when we found the grocery store. It was on a corner by itself, with a large mostly empty parking lot out front just a block or two away from that church I'd gone to. I met Johnny's eyes and shrugged. It couldn't hurt to try. It wasn't like we had anything else to do, and besides, we'd been walking for ages, and it would feel like a waste to go back to the apartment with nothing to show for it. He stuck his hands in his pocket and we both headed inside, the bell above the door ringing when it closed behind us, and a familiar face peered at me from behind the cash register.

"Hey, Mike."

Johnny gave me a look, but he had a pretty good poker face and the girl behind the counter was looking at me, not him, so she didn't really notice. My eyes got wide when I saw her, then I grinned a little, moving over toward the counter, Johnny just a step behind with his hands stuck in his pockets.

"Hey, Sue."

"Who's your friend?" she asked, nodding to Johnny.

"Um...this is Patrick," I spit out Sodapop's middle name...the first one that came to mind in my panic. No one could know who he really was...if they found out, they could find me...he could find me. I couldn't let him find me. Ever. I never wanted to see him again. Just the thought made me want to throw up.

Johnny gave a start next to me, then gave me another weird look, and this time she noticed. He cleared his throat, holding out a hand and trying to cover for us.

"Nice to meet ya," he told her, and she shook his hand with a grin, apparently deciding to let it go.

"Yeah, likewise. You gonna bring him to church next time too?"

Johnny kept glancing at me from the corner of his eye and I knew I'd owe him an explanation when we left.

"Uh...maybe. If he wants to," I told her with a shrug. "We actually came in 'cause we saw the sign." I jerked my head toward the 'help wanted' sign taped to the window.

"Oh yeah? You looking for a job? Around here?" she asked, the smile dubious.

"We'll take anything we can get," Johnny spoke up.

Sue nodded, looking him up and down, then turning to me.

"I'll be right back," she told us, hopping down from the stool she was sitting on behind the counter, slipping through the door on the back wall. A minute later, she emerged once more, a taller guy following close behind. "Daddy, this is Mike, and his friend Patrick. Mike helped me out a few days ago." Once more, Johnny gave me a look from the corner of his eye but was trying not to be obvious. "They're looking for a job."

He nodded, staring at us closely, arms crossed. He was a good foot taller than me, maybe even taller than Darry, with muscles that reminded me of my brother as well. Johnny squirmed a little beside me and I tried to resist the urge to dig my toe into the floor.

"And we're hiring," she prompted again, her grin widening, and he rolled his eyes.

"You boys have any experience? Ever held a job before?"

"Uh...not really…no, sir," I mumbled a little, shoving my hands into my pockets.

"Still in school?" he asked.

"No sir...we...dropped out," Johnny told him.

I guess that was kind of true.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen," Johnny said at the same time I said "sixteen."

The man nodded slowly, humming and glancing back at Sue before turning to me. "Weren't you the boy that came to our church Sunday?"

I nodded, feeling my ears get a little hot.

"Come on, Dad. They just moved here and they need a job." He lifted an eyebrow. "Mike really did help me out."

Surprisingly, that seemed to do it.

"It's part time, a dollar an hour, cash. Twenty hours a week. Monday through Friday, seven to eleven pm. You'll be putting up stock and cleaning the store while we're closing up. Still interested?"

"Yes, sir, it's perfect," Johnny grinned, nodding. I had to agree...it wasn't quite minimum wage, but we just needed enough for food and, eventually, bus tickets back. The fact that it was cash was even better. Hopefully, no one would ask him who his new stock boys were, which was perfect.

"My name's William. You can call me Mr. Williams."

"William...Williams?" Johnny asked, and I suppressed the smile.

Mr. Williams didn't look too amused. "That's what I said, boy. You got an issue with my name?"

"No, sir," Johnny mumbled, dropping his eyes.

The big man nodded. "Good. The first time you're late, I'll find someone else. I catch you stealing, the police can deal with you. You two live around here?"

"Yes, sir. Down the street," I told him, exaggerating a little. It was about two miles away, but we could walk it pretty fast.

"Your parents care that you're getting a job?"

Johnny swallowed hard, staring back down at the floor, arms crossed hard over his chest, so I went with a partial truth.

"Our parents are dead, sir. We...we live with our cousin."

He nodded slowly, eyes softening just a bit. "You're brothers?" he asked, glancing over at his daughter.

Johnny nodded before I could try to come up with any kind of lie, hoping he didn't look too close. Johnny was darker than me, his eyes dark brown while mine were green, no matter how I tried to pretend they were gray. Besides, my hair was peroxide blond, but it was obviously dyed.

"Yes, sir."

"Alright. You can start Monday." With that, he turned and headed back to the back, patting Sue on the shoulder on his way. "Back to work, baby girl."

"Thanks, Daddy!" she called, lifting an eyebrow and grinning at me. "Well…" She prompted, arms outstretched, and I had to laugh a little.

"Thanks, Sue."

"Sure thing. Now we're even." She crossed her arms, shifting her weight so that she was leaning on the counter.

"He always like that?" Johnny asked, eyes darting back to the door Mr. Williams had disappeared through.

"Touchy about his name? He was just messing with you...trying to scare the new guys. Did it work?"

Johnny grinned then. "Yeah. Suppose it did."

"Good. He likes to think he's scary. Make sure you come in early on Monday. He'll like that."

"Thanks again, Sue."

"Sure thing. I'll see you guys on Monday unless you needed something?"

We both shook our heads and waved as we headed out the door, the bell ringing as it closed behind us.

Johnny turned to me as soon as we were a few feet away from the store. "Patrick?" he asked, looking more confused than upset.

"It was the first one I could think of."

"What's wrong with Johnny?" he demanded, arms crossed as he paused on the sidewalk, glancing sideways at me.

I hesitated. Was I being too paranoid? I thought about Richard...the knife in his hand as he'd held Li down. I remembered that cop reaching for me, and the glass bottle that had come down on my face...the immediate white-hot stab of pain. He must have seen the look on my face...how scared I looked, 'cause he started walking again, and I followed, eyes down.

"I told people my name was Mike cause I was scared they'd find me. I was just scared that if people figured out who you were...since you ran away and all…" I murmured.

"You were afraid he'd find you," he finished and I nodded. "Look, man, he ain't gonna find you. And even if he does, I got your back."

"You couldn't fight him, Johnny," I muttered, arms crossed tight.

"It's Patrick, remember?" He was grinning and I untensed a little.

"Yeah, sure."

He hesitated on the sidewalk, missing a step. "Why 'Patrick'?"

"It's Sodapop's middle name," I admitted.

Johnny was quiet for a minute, then he bumped his shoulder against mine, sighing. "That's tuff enough, man. Patrick it is."

"We could call you Pat."

He laughed, elbowing me as we headed back to James's place, not that there was anything to do there. I supposed we could head to the library later. I didn't want to risk it until there were more people out on the streets. I really had gotten paranoid. The thought kind of hurt, so I pushed it away. I'd gotten pretty good at pushing bad thoughts away, but not good enough.