Phone Tag, You're It

Last Night – 9:15pm

Soda's giving me a look. That look. The look he continually gives me whenever Ponyboy and I fight. The look he gave me when I was 16 and told him he couldn't play football with me and my buddies. The look he used to wear, two years ago, as he read and reread Sandy's letter, until it crumbled apart in his hands.

I dump another load of clothes into the washer. Steve and Two-Bit are outside on the porch smoking. I slam the lid of the washing machine and Soda hops of the couch. We face each other like it's a standoff.

"Darry."

"Sodapop."

"Should we call the cops?"

"Yeah, I think we better."

Soda moves to the phone and as his hand touches the receiver it rings. He freezes and turns wide brown eyes my way. I nod. "Answer it."

Soda waits until it rings again and then picks up. "Ponyboy?" He stands very still.

OoO

Last Night – 9:22pm

"Joe."

"What?"

"What're those?"

"What're what?" Joe stares, confused, and then breaks into a smile. "Oh, those. Don't worry. Ain't planning to use 'em."

"You better not," I hiss behind my fan of cards, keeping my face emotionless. "I'm not lookin' to get the shit kicked out of me tonight."

"I play it smart, kid," Joe says. "You'll see. Besides, you may get the shit kicked out of you, but it ain't gonna be here."

OoO

Last Night – 9:32pm

"Darrell Curtis?" the man asks, greeting us. Soda's at my heels, Two-Bit and Steve stay in the idling truck.

"Yeah, that's me."

"Chuck Baker, Tulsa PD." We shake gloved hands. "This your truck?" When I nod he continues. "The owner of the junkyard called us earlier tonight. Apparently, the truck's been here since about seven this evening. He saw it pull in with two passengers. We were just going to tow it to the impound lot when we were able to make an ID."

Baker hands me a brown paper bag and the keys to my truck. "We found some of your brother's personal effects in the vehicle." He opens a small notepad. "His wallet, backpack and some other items."

"What about Ponyboy?" Soda says. His breath shakes. "Where's he?"

"Two-Bit," I bark, causing my friend to roll down the window. "What time did you see Ponyboy?"

Two-Bit frowns, thinking hard. Says, "It must have been just at seven…I remember because the streetlights don't come on until then and they flickered on when I was crossing the street."

I turn back to Baker. "What time did the call come in?"

"6:58."

It's close; two minutes but I let myself breathe again, the paper bag crinkles in my closed fist. Soda's pale but some color's returned to his face. "Goddamn right," he says.

OoO

Last Night – 9:45pm

It had been going smoothly.

All bets were on, Joe raising and winning without any appearance of cheating. Too nervous to play, I folded the first few hands, then with a little help from a beer, eventually got into the swing of things. And hell if Joe wasn't a good player; so good, I decided I needed to introduce him to Sodapop and Steve to show them a few pointers.

Then as we get ready to leave, Joe gives up the cards, so to speak.

We both stand; I shake hands with the four other players, pick up some poker chips and start shuffling them between my hands, thinking holy hell, we really got away with it

Joe reaches over the table, hand outstretched and the two aces slide out of his sleeve. They land in the lap of the dealer. Instantly, I feel my face go red as all eyes turn on us. An awkward silence lingers and then the dealer—

"You dirty fuckin cheater!"

"Now, now fellas…" Joe holds up his hands. "If it helps, I didn't even have to use those cards tonight. I didn't really need to with the shitty way you were play—"

The dealer takes a swing at Joe. But Joe's fast, ducking and then straightening up. He grabs the hood on my jacket, tugging me like I'm attached to a noose. "Let's go."

We haul ass up the stairs and out the front door, the cheated players at our heels. "God damn it, Joe," I swear at him as we run across the railroad tracks. The wind is cold and I suck in a breath. "They're gonna kill us," I say, remembering Soda's words. "They're gonna catch us and kill us and tie our bodies to these train tracks."

"There will be no murder tonight, Ponyboy…"

"Yeah, I'll believe that when we're halfway across town…"

"And what're you gonna do with those?" Joe yells back. "Hold 'em off with pieces of plastic? Maybe throw 'em like tiny Frisbees?"I glance down at my hands and see that I'm still holding the poker chips. I swear at him again and shove the chips into the pocket of my jacket.

We skitter across gravel as we reach the car. I dare a quick glance back. The four guys look angry enough to kill, rushing at us in the dark night, fists clenched. And remembering Sodapop's warning and not doubting it, I dart in front of the car, whip the passenger door open and without thinking, in some sort of unconscious act, punch open the glove box and grab the gun.

I hold it up, muzzle to the sky. And that's all I need to do.

Our pursuers slide to a stop. The dealer scowls and flicks the blade he had been holding closed. One of the other men – the one who's been eyeballing me all night – cocks his head. The gun's cool in my palm. I don't like holding it but try to keep a calm grip. Joe gives me an impressed wink and then saunters forward.

I nearly groan as Joe starts goading them.

"Well, well, well, looks like playtime is over, boys."

"I oughta gut you right now," the dealer barks.

"Then why don't you?" Joe presses a shocked hand to his heart. "Oh, that's riiiight, could it be because my young friend here is carrying the finest piece in the Wild West?"

"Midwest," I speak up.

"Midwest. Right again. Besides," Joe says, "I wasn't cheating. Those were my good luck aces, handy only in a jam, like a lucky rabbit's foot or a four leaf clover, so you gentlemen have no recourse." Joe walks a few steps to the truck, turns and looks back at the foursome. "I do offer you one condolence, however…" He holds up his middle finger.

I pound my fist on the top of the car. "Man, can we just cut the shit and get the hell outta here?"

"Yup," Joe says. He climbs into the truck, starts the engine. I'm about to as well when—

"Hey!" my eyeballer speaks up. "Hey kid!" I pop my head out, crawl out of the seat to stare at him. "Kid, ain't you Darry Curtis's little brother?"

This fells me, the gun drooping in my grasp. That's when I realize I do know the guy. It's one of Darry's old workout buddies from high school: Hal Boyle. The blood drains from my face.

"Aw, shit." I bite my lip; stand on tiptoes to get a better look at Boyle over the top of the car. "You ain't gonna tell him about this are you?"

OoO

Last Night – 10:04pm

"He's already shopping for Christmas?" Soda asks, cradling the pocket knife from one of the bags Officer Baker had handed over. He shows me. "You think this is mine?"

"I don't know, Soda…"

"Yeah, well if it is, I feel bad for you, Dar. He got you socks…" The bag rustles.

I smear my face and steer the truck, following Steve back to the house. We pass a McDonald's, the drive-through filled to the brim.

OoO

Last Night – 10:05pm

"I hate you so much right now." I cover my eyes.

"Why are you pissed?" Joe says. "I'm the one who should be mad. I lost my best aces."

"Screw your aces." I raise my face, the flicker of the McDonald's arches, golden across the windshield as we drive back into the center of Tulsa. "My brother's gonna kill me."

"If he hears."

"Oh, he'll hear. He hears everything."

"What, is he some kind of superhero?" Joe laughs.

I think about it and feel myself grin. "Something like that."

"Settle down, Ponyboy." Joe glances my way, taking his eyes off the road. "We're gonna go have a drink. We're gonna play a little pool…"

I sit up straight as the truck swerves slightly. He's still looking at me. "Joe…"

"Chase a little skirt."

Oncoming headlights are bright.

I buckle my seatbelt. "Joe…"

"Tonight's gonna be alright…"

"Joe!"

OoO

Last Night – 10:07pm

"This just doesn't make sense," Soda murmurs, turning his face to the window. "We know he's out there…now where he is…"

"Is a different story altogether, yeah, I know," I say, nodding.

"I just hope he's okay."

"Believe me, Sodapop, you have no id—Jesus!" Up ahead, Steve's truck narrowly misses getting sideswiped by an old busted up car. The horn sounds loud and long.

OoO

Last Night – 10:08pm

Reaching out, I grip the wheel, jerking the car back onto our side of the road. The blur of the oncoming truck blasts its horn; the dark figure driving gives me the second bird of the night.

I cock my head at the familiar truck following the one we nearly creamed, tuning out Joe's frustrated thanks.

OoO

Last Night – 10:08pm

Soda gives me a shocked look.

I feel like I've seen a ghost and twist around in my seat to glance behind. Soda grabs the wheel to drive for me. I catch the taillights of a green Impala winking as it turns the corner. "Was that—?"

"No…" Soda shakes his head. "It couldn't have been…"

OoO

Last Night – 10:20pm

The crack of the balls is loud. Pool is the hot item tonight at the Lazy Cowpoke Saloon. A hokey name and an even hokier place. I don't know about Joe but for my last night on earth I'd definitely opt for something more fun. Like the library. But, as I remind myself, this isn't his last night; not if I have anything to do with it.

Joe pulls up a stool next to me at the bar. Orders some beers. It seems as good a time as any. I bite my lip and go for it.

"So, you gonna tell me what's wrong with you or what? I figure I kind of earned it after saving your ass."

"That was pretty noble of you," Joe says, cocking a brow. "Pulling out the big guns in the heat of the moment. I mean, hell, you might want to start thinking about trying out for the army…maybe a sniper position…"

"Shut up," I snap, rubbing the back of my hair, now feeling embarrassed. "I don't why I did it. I don't even like to hunt."

"Instinct. Pure, raw instinct."

I roll my eyes. "You gonna tell me or what, Joe?" He doesn't reply and nervously, I rub my hands on my jeans. "Sorry. Look, if you don't want to tell me that's fine, I was j—"

"Stomach cancer." He catches my wince and says, "Yep, eaten away from the inside. Classy way to go."

"But…but you're so young…" My brain flashes to Dallas and Johnny. If I hadn't found the pills I would never have guessed. I reach for my beer and gulp it down.

"Age don't have nothin to do with death being kind."

"No shit." I cough into my fist, then look at him. "I'm sorry, man."

"So on account of that late-breaking newsflash, wouldn't you?"

"Wouldn't I what?"

Joe slices two fingers across his next. "Opt out? I mean, who wants to wait around for it to happen? I'd rather just…Do it myself."

"Don't talk like that."

"Why not? It's true."

"Knock it off," I say, sliding off the bar stool to grab a pool stick. "Remember what you said? 'There will be no murder tonight'."

Joe rewards me with a bright grin. "Hell kid, you were listening."

"Never said I wasn't." I hand him the stick.

OoO

Last Night – 10:45pm

"I got it," I say as the phone rings for the second time tonight and Sodapop and Two-Bit practically leap off the couch. I'm in my recliner, phone receiver resting on my chest. Steve turns the TV down.

"Hello?"

"Darry Curtis?"

"Yes?"

"I just wanted to let you know your brother is a goddamn menace. And a cheater no less."

"Who the hell is this?" I pull my recliner into its sitting position. Soda stands in front of me, arms crossed against his chest.

"It's Hal Boyle." He sounds annoyed. "Remember we—"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember," I say, wanting him to get to the point. "You saw Ponyboy? Where was he?"

"Yeah, I saw him. He was down at the tracks tonight, near the freight station, palling around with some guy I've never seen before…" I shut my eyes and Hal continues. "At first I thought it was that middle brother of yours since I've seen him down here before, but then I—"

Impatient, I cut him off again. "So what'd he do?"

"I'll tell ya what he did. Played some poker, screwed us over…we nearly caught that little bastard but—"

"Boyle," I growl, seeing red. "If you're calling to tell me you messed my brother up, I'm warning you—"

"Me? He's the one who pulled a gun on us."

"What?"

"Yeah, you heard that right. Your little brother's packin' heat."

"Bullshit."

"Call it bullshit if you want, Curtis, but whoever that was sure had one hell of a mouth on him."

My stomach drops into my toes. "Yeah, that sounds like Ponyboy," I groan, pressing the phone receiver tighter against my ear, ready to get as much information as I can so I can hunt my brother down and bring him home.

OoO

Last Night – 11:11pm

In between games of pool, Joe's been telling me his story. Born in Chicago, he moved out here with his mother and younger sister in eighth grade. Worked on a ranch until the horse kicked him in the gut. That little trip to the hospital let to something else unexpected.

Come to find out he's dying and dying's a lonely business.

"Hell," he says, lining up a shot, "Kidnapping a stranger seemed less judgmental. I mean, do you ever find yourself telling random folks stuff you'd never tell your closest friends? That's what I wanted tonight. No obligations. No judgments"

I think of the theme I wrote for Mr. Syme, things I'd never flat-out tell to Darry or Sodapop and find myself agreeing with him. It makes sense. And I find myself liking Joe.

"Believe it or not, I know what you mean." He gives me a look and then steps back to let a group of people pass by.

I swallow the last of my beer, feeling numb and fuzzy. The warmth of the bar is a welcome relief from the winter weather outside. The door blows open and a group of girls storm inside. One of them is speaking loudly and gesticulating angrily. She's cute, with a pert nose and a face full of brown bangs. I eye her and—

"Shucks, you wanna play a game of billiards?"

Frowning, I look Joe's way. My eyes narrow as Joe offers a pool stick to a real greasy looking muscle-bound hulk. The guy accepts and I'm sliding off the barstool fast.

I grab Joe's pool cue. "No. You're not doing this again."

"Doing what?"

"C'mon, Joe. Billiards? Really?" I lower my voice. "You're hustling these guys. I think doing it once tonight is pressing our luck enough."

The girls laugh loud in the corner. The brunette is lighting up. "And I had to drop him off. He didn't even try to kiss me goodnight...something about being in a hurry…" The others shake their heads; a blonde girl swears her disgust. I try to listen but Joe's grinning at me and I turn my attention to him.

"I never hustled," Joe says. "I won, fair and square, without cheating." He tugs the pool cue out of my grasp. "I've always wanted to do this."

"I can see that. And I can see them, and I don't think it's such a hot idea."

"It'll be fine, kid." I scowl as he walks toward the guys, giving them a big cheesy wave.

OoO

Happy Thanksgiving weekend.

Please pardon typos.

Many thanks for the reads and reviews.

XO,

Feisty