Thank you for the reviews!
Disclaimer; The Outsiders still belongs to S.E. Hinton, not me.
When Tim pulls up to his house, he finds three of his own waiting in the lawn.
There's Curly, smoking and sitting on the porch, not starting arguments for once. Dale Ford is there, cleaning his nails with an ivory-handled switch-blade- Dale used to be from one of 'em soc families, but when he got disowned, that blade was the only thing he could sneak off with. Tim wasn't sure what made Dale as strange as he was- he figured it had to do with the fact that he went from living in a giant home to the streets; Tim thinks he'd have been better off never knowing what money was.
Finally, there's Arnold Quill, more commonly known as Quill. He's Tim's second in command, and the most logical guy Tim knows. Quill is the type of guy who would stare you in the eye, and if he figured it was okay for you to die, would shoot you.
They all get up and walk towards the car when Tim pulls into the driveway. They wait patiently for him to get, even Curly minimizes the fidgeting, and Tim realizes that they know this is serious. He's glad- he doesn't like trying to communicate big issues to people who only want to goof off.
He takes his sweet time getting out of the car and grabbing the box from the trunk. He begins to walk towards his house, and the crowd follows, knowing not to mess with Tim when he's feeling serious.
When they all finally gather inside, around a cheap dinning room table, the box in the middle of it, Curly is the first to speak.
"So..." one word, and Tim's plan it set into motion. With a nod of his head, Dale pulls out his switchblade and cuts the tape off the box. Tim opens the box, and pulls out it's contents slowly. He can feel the tension rising and the duffel bad contained in the box lands on the table.
Tim unzips it, revealing four new, black guns.
"Shit." It's curly who says that, as his eyes widen.
"Yep." Tim says, "Shit."
"Whats this about?" Dale asks. Tim can see he's itching to get his hands on one of the guns.
"Y'all know we ain't the only gang in Tulsa." as Tim speaks, the three listener nod, "Then you also know the RK's are our biggest rivals. Ever since we lost Jim and Terry, two of our best, you could say, they've been reeking havoc in are turf, jumping our members, and causing us a lot of trouble." Tim sounded, to himself, like one of 'em movie gang bosses; authoritative, strong, everything he is. "So we're gonna stop 'em. We ain't gonna shoot anyone, at least not yet, but we just gotta scare 'em. Keep them away, y'know? A switch blade ain't gonna do that."
"Tim," Quill asks, "How the hell are we gonna let 'em know we got these without the fuzz getting word? seems like a lot of trouble for a simple fear tactic."
"I don't think that's gonna be a problem." Tim says, thinking of Marilyn. He couldn't have worked it out more perfectly himself. "And it ain't just a scare tactic. You know what we can do with these? I'm telling you- every damn shit is gonna be scared of us when word gets out we got these. I've got half a mind to spread it around that we have more, so that the fuzz gets creeped- that won't be hard, their scared of us already. My main motivation was the RK's, but theirs more to it than that."
The room is silent for a second.
"So do I get one?" Curly finally asks, eying the weapons. Tim resists the urge to groan. Of course, his brother's gotta be the one to ask.
"Yes. Each person in this room gets one." he glances at each face for just a moment. "Because I trust y'all aren't gonna do something to stupid with 'em."
line
Marilyn stretches out in Simone's bed, enjoying the feel of the sheets against her back. Simone lies beside her, relaxed and happy. She knows he vulnerable now, week. She knows that if she wants something, she'd better ask now.
"Hey, babe?" she asks, rolling over so that she's resting on her elbows.
"Yeah?" he mumbles, eyes still half closed.
"What do you see me as?" the question doesn't come out quiet the way she wants, but it's good enough.
He smirks like a pervert before answering.
"I see you as a damn fine chick who's in my bed." he tells her, clearly reliving what had happened moments ago.
"No, I mean," she tried to sound more assertive, "Am I your girlfriend?" she hates to say it like that- like some needy broad who just wants to hear the strongest guy in the room say she's his, but that's what it's come to.
"Shoot, kid, y'know I hate labels." He's told her that before and she figures he'll tell her it again. Still, it annoys her. She's gotta admit that a big part of it is that he calls her kid. Sure, he's six years older, but at nineteen, she thinks she's outgrown the title. The only person who called her kid before she met him was her Ma. She shudders- Simone sure as hell ain't her mama.
She waits a few minutes before starting up another conversation. She wants to say something that will blow his mind, and finally, it comes to her.
"You'd never guess," she says slowly, "Who came into my Mama's shop today." Simone knows all about Catherine Hillside's business; in fact, it's how he met Marilyn, so he perks up a little when she says this.
"Who?" he asks, his eyes finally opening with interest.
"Timothy Leroy Shepard." she says this smugly, knowing what impact the words will have on Simone.
He scrambles out of bed in a heartbeat, and begins frantically searching for his pants.
"And you kept that in all day?" he asks, "I swear, Marilyn, I'll marry ya' if I don't kill ya' first!" he's found the pants, but then realizes he needs some underwear, and cusses his head off. Marilyn lies back for a few minutes, enjoying the view. But then, she realizes something.
"I should get dressed, huh?" she asks, disappointment apparent in her voice.
"Listen, Doll, I ain't got a problem with you riding on my motorcycle buck naked, and I don't think them fuzz would either- but your Mama might." he leans down and kisses her, and she nods.
She's dressed in a matter of seconds, not having worn much to his place, and they leave quickly. He's got a nice new bike, and she makes herself comfortable, knowing it's a long ride home. Last time, she got back at two, and her Ma had wanted to skin her alive. Tonight, if she's back before midnight it will surprise everyone involved.
She feels safe, with her arms around Simone's waist. All her life, she's looked for the strongest player in the game; she figures men decide who the kings are, and the girls have just gotta match themselves up with whoever they can claw away from the other chicks. That's the way things work around here- if your man is an alpha, so are you, and if he ain't, then you ain't. It's the way her mother thought her.
Now listen, girly, She's said, I've had nothing but failures in my life, so you'd better pick a winner.
Well, if Simone Carpenter wasn't a winner, she didn't know who was.
Line
Tim can hardly feel the gun hidden by his coat as he eyes a group of broads in Bucks. You gotta watch out around the chicks in Bucks, because the place is of neutral turf and the cold be anyone's girls. But he figures that he deserves any dame he wants tonight- he's twenty, he's powerfull, and he's got the best feeling of triumph in the world.
One of the girls catches his eyes and giggles. He groans a little- trust the best looking one to be the giggler. But then she gets a hold of herself and gives him a sultry smile.
He tries to make his way to her, but feels a hand close around his forearm. He turns, thinking it's the girls boyfriend and that he's going to need to fight someone, but instead comes face-to-face with Quill.
Which can't be good.
"You'd better come, Tim," he says in a grave voice, "Your news spread pretty quickly."
"What do you mean?" He knows fully well what Quill means, but he sure ain't leaving if Quill won't say it.
"I mean, a certain River King is waiting outside, and he looks pretty angry."
Sorry for the long wait.
The story didn't get much reviews, and I have a lot of school work...
:P