Give this book a chance, give Sylvia a chance. Love to all, Dedicated.
I don't even know if I remember the first time I saw him. Back then I didn't pay one glance at him, but there was something about Dallas Winston like the irritating way gum sticks to the bottom of your shoe, and glory, I hated to love him. He was bold, he was tuff, and damn was he hard to love.
The sun is nearly blinding as I step from the doorway of the Dingo and out onto the blazing pavement. I swear if it was any hotter you could cook a proper meal right out on the street.
"Sylv, wait, can you work a double tomorrow?" Bev, my manager calls after me, panting when I pretend not to hear her so she has to run me down.
I twirl around to face her, my eyes running over her disheveled appearance. I attempt not to wince when I notice the way her chest heaves in and out as she sucks in air like she's fixing to die. Her red curls are already starting to frizz in the heat. They make her head look like it's been set ablaze by a wild sort of fire, and her makeup has begun to dampen seeming more like thick frosting on her weathered skin.
"Sorry, Bev. That should be fine. I'll have to check with the old man first." I grin, but I know he won't mind.
Money is getting awful hard to come by these days, and most of the time has too busy in the shop to notice my ins and outs.
"And that's why you're my favorite." She barely manages to grunt out, hustling back in to bother someone else.
I smooth out my uniform, eyeing a brown stain on my stomach with disdain. Some Soc kid spilt his chocolate mild straight on me. If I had been anywhere else, I would have given his mother a piece of my mind, but instead I laughed it off, cursing him in my head the rest of the day through.
Thanking all things good, I'm able to cool off on my walk as the sun sinks low in the sky. As it sets lower, the people on the streets start to get fewer and fewer. I know why.
This part of town will be crawling with Soc's looking to pick a fight shortly. Of course, they always seem to be around, but a good Friday night, and enough alcohol, they will be over here in droves.
I don't bother worrying about them though, they don't usually bother with jumping us girls, although there's always a few exceptions. Last year, my dear friend Karen got caught in a fight between Curly and a few Soc boys who did her up real bad just to get to Curly while he was being pounded on by the other two. That fight led to the rumble of the century, especially when Curly saw the big scar it left across her chin. I swear that boy was out for murder.
Anyone who was anyone fought in that rumble, course I was working, but I head from Karen that a few boys pulled blades, and the cops showed up to find four boys on the ground pouring blood. Everyone else had split by then.
I roll my eyes to myself at their stupidity, nearly jumping straight out of my skin when loud laughter comes from a house I'm walking by. A whistle of approval cuts through the air and I frown, trying to distinguish the faces of the boys spread around the lawn. When I can't, the same whistle comes again. I just scowl and keep walking.
There's loud laughter, and I can hear then hounding on someone loudly, most likely the one who whistled. Again, I am unable to resist the urge to roll my eyes.
I just keep my head down and pick up my pace, turning the corner down my unlit street. The city put in lamps ages ago, but when they burnt, no one bothered fixin' them.
Our porch creaks and groans as I walk up the familiar steps. Swinging open the ripped screen I toss my shoes and purse to the side, locking the door behind me.
"Hi daddy." I call, walking into the kitchen to toss together some kind of dinner.
"Hello, Sylvia." He grunts barely looking up at me over all the bills and papers stacked on the table.
"Can I make you dinner?" I ask while rummaging through the cabinets for anything that I could possibly toss together for a proper meal.
"No, no, just go get your brothers and see if they want any. Make the baby come whether he wants to or not." He commands, but I know he doesn't mean it that way.
"Yes, daddy." I say, moving to the stairs to call the boys.
"Danny, Charlie, come on down and get washed up for dinner." I call up the stairs, starting to boil a pot when I hear them moving around.
"Look at you little Sylvie, all domesticated and all with that pot of water. You fixin' to burn it like all the other shit you make?" Danny, my elder brother, laughs at his own joke, jumping out of the way when I move to hit him with my spoon.
"Danny said shit." Charlie calls out as he races into the room.
"Charlie, don't repeat that word." I scold, but he just pouts at me.
I look away and back over to Danny who looks like has getting ready to leave.
"Are you not staying?" I ask warily, thinking of all the Soc boys and how they won't hesitate to beat the tar out of him if they catch him.
"Relax, kid." He sighs "Sylvia, you know I'll be with the gang, were headed to the drive in. Rudy wants to pick up some chicks, and I happen to be having a chick crisis." He jokes and a whack him with the spoon again.
"Daniel Winters, I do not want to hear about that. Now get." I shoo him out the door, but not before he places a kiss on my head, and pats Charlie on the back.
"Don't you dare repeat anything he says, you hear?" I look down at Charlie sharply.
"Yes, Sylvia." He grins, holding his hands out for me to pick him up.
At nearly five years old, has getting a bit too heavy to be held, but I do it none the less, pushing back the blond hair that rests on his forehead before stirring the noodles in the water.
"Boy, we need to get a little grease in that hair." I laugh, making a note in my head to put a little in his hair before I send him off to school.
When the noodles finish, I put Charlie down on the couch, handing him a steaming bowl. He flips on the television set, turning it on to a cartoon that I'm surprised is showing on a Friday night.
"Thank you, sweetheart." My dad dismisses me after I place a bowl in front of him even though he already turned it down.
I curl up on the couch next to Charlie, laying my head on the arm and dozing off.
What seems only minutes later, I'm startled awake by five boys crashing through the front door. Charlie is no longer next to me, and my dad has left for his night shift.
I look up, spotting the Shepard boys, Rudy, Danny and a kid I know they're running with. They all have wounds and already forming bruises. Tim is the worst, his eye is oozing blood and it looks like he got swiped by a blade a few places on his arm.
"Glory, you lot couldn't go one night?" I admonish the boys, moving quickly to get Tim onto the couch.
I grab a bowl of water and some rags from the kitchen, snatching our milk jug from Rudy's hand before he can take a drink of it.
"Really, Rudy, get a glass you hood." I roll my eyes, returning to Tim.
"How you doin' Sylvia?" he smirks, and I blush, looking everywhere but into his eyes.
"Hey Timmie." I smile softly, bringing the wet towel to the cut under his eye.
I dab at it, frowning when I see how deep it goes. Doing my best, I clean it up, applying small stich bandages as I go.
"You're real good at fixing me up, how about I take y'all down to Buck's place to make it up?" he drawls smoothly.
"Just hold still." I giggle, still resisting against catching his eye.
"Aw hell, Tim. Are you flirtin with my kid sister again?" Danny whines, looking particularly disgusted.
"Hard not to, Dan. Me an her are gonna head to Buck's as soon as she cleans you lot up." He grins deviously, watching me clean the cut on his arm.
I ignore his remark and place a loose bandage on the cut, grabbing his left hand first to wipe off the blood. Making eye contact with him, I find has already looking at me, his blue eyes glinting.
Usually has not like this, joking and laughing. Common days, there's no place for joking or teasing, even flirting; although when no one is looking he tends to make a move, or ten.
"I assume y'all won then?" I nod towards the boys whose light hearted banter puts a small smile on my face.
"Do I ever lose, Sylvia." He nods, grinning like a sly old cat.
"Suppose not, who were you boys beating on anyways?" I ask, taking his right hand having finished the left.
"Just some Soc kids who don't know where their territory ends, but we showed them real good. Ain't you proud of me?"
A jolt of surprise hits me when he flips his hand and grabs mine.
"Forget you sods, we're headed to Buck's." they all throw a proper tantrum, and I can feel Tim's good mood being drained with every complaint. He throws them a good glare and they're all cleaning each other up real quick.
I follow Tim wordlessly into the night, into his beat up car, and towards Buck's.