Chapter 1 - The Dingy Dive Bar
It started, as these things sometimes do, with a chance encounter on the wrong side of town.
Dallas Winston didn't much care for the dingy dive bar, but it suited his purposes - drinking away his demons until the noise in his head went blessedly quiet.
That's when she walked in.
Her dark curls caught the dim light, cascading over delicate features; doe-eyes soft and wary in that hardened place. But it was her light, indefinable air of innocence that held his gaze, out of place as spring amid dead winter.
She took a seat at the far end of the bar, small shoulders hunched as if to ward off hovering vultures. Dallas knew the type - sweet thing, far from home with no idea the wolves prowling to take advantage.
He watched from afar, something unfamiliar prickling beneath his skin the longer she sat alone. When finally a greasy stranger sidled too close, handing dropped to curls in a way leaving little doubt his intent...that's when Dallas moved.
Crossing the bar in three long strides, he had the creep by the collar and hustled outside before a second thought. But the damage was done - tears tracked clean lines down dusty cheeks, brown doe eyes wide with startled fright.
She trembled, a wild thing ready to bolt. But instead of the dismissal he expected, barely uttered words stayed his retreat: "Th-thank you."
The whispered words caught Dallas off guard. He shifted, dragging a hand through his unkempt hair as he searched for a response.
"Whatever." He muttered, then scowled at his own response. His tone was more harsh than he intended - she didn't deserve the brush off, even if she wasn't the type to stay out of places like the dive bar.
"Look, I'm not doin' you any favors. I just, didn't like what I saw." He was aware of his own rough exterior. It was usually enough to keep strangers at bay. It just didn't feel right in this case.
"N-no..really! T-thank you so much.." her hands rose to wipe dampness from her rosy cheeks, sending Dallas' gaze tracing the same delicate lines left behind.
Her soft voice only deepened the frowning line between his brows. She was different. Innocent, yet... he couldn't quite pin it on any one thing.
"What're you even doing here, sweetheart?" The last word slipped free of his lips before he could bite it back.
She fidgeted under Dallas' scrutinizing gaze, eyes downcast. It was a fair question - what was a nice gal like her doing in such a seedy dive?
"I, um..." She toyed with a loose thread on her sleeve, clearly hesitant to reveal too much to this stranger who'd shown her surprising kindness amid menace.
The word 'sweetheart' left a sour taste in his mouth. It's not as though he meant it affectionately. Even so, he'd let it slip, and now he felt the need to clarify his position.
"Look, I'm not trying to hit on you or anythin'." He said, crossing his arms with a scowl. "I'm just sayin', you look like you got no business bein' somewhere like this."
She shrank back slightly at his brusque tone, though she sensed no true harshness behind it. Merely discomfort with unfamiliar emotions stirring beneath his tough exterior.
Her fingers curled tighter. "I just...needed to get away..." A shadow passed over her doe eyes before she shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I'm sorry to have bothered you, sir."
She moved to hurriedly slip past him, cheeks burning at her foolish gamble. But a rough hand caught her arm, gentle yet unyielding. Lifting her eyes, Mary found him studying her face - not with lust or cruelty, but concern and...curiosity?
Dallas was far from an expert at reading people, but even he could tell the girl was hiding something.
Her story just didn't add up. She's 'taking a breather'? In a rundown dive bar? In a crime-riddled area of town, late at night?
It'd be foolish to take her at face value, but for some reason he didn't feel like going that route. Instead, he gave her a slight tug.
"You're not gonna tell me what's really goin' on, are ya?"
She sighed softly, shoulders drooping in resignation. She knew he saw through her thin excuse.
Lifting melancholy eyes to his, she answered quietly, "No sir, I reckon I ain't."
He felt himself bristle at 'sir'. No doubt it was a term of respect, but it made him feel strangely...old.
"No need to call me sir, I ain't that old." his lips formed a thin line, eyes narrowing as he looked down at her.
She was a riddle, wrapped in an enigma. Not the usual type of girl he went out of his way to talk to. But he could hardly explain the pull that drew him closer to the puzzle.
She ducked her head shyly. "Sorry...habit, I s'pose." She peeked up through dark lashes apologetically.
Dallas softened slightly under her guileless gaze, more unsettled by it than he cared to admit. Dragging a hand through his already-disheveled hair, he replied gruffly, "Name's Dallas. And you ain't told me yours yet, doll."
A hint of color dusted her cheeks at the nickname, though she didn't shy from it. "Mary."
"Mary." He repeated, tasting the name in his mouth.
Dallas had always been attracted to pretty faces. But it was more than beauty that caught his attention this time, an intriguing sense of innocence. She was the type you wanted to protect from trouble, or better yet, trouble herself. Or ruin-
The thought caught him off guard - he had no business getting involved with a 'good girl' like her. He could try to get laid...that's about all he looked for in broads, a good lay-
You horny bastard.
Dallas frowned softly, confusion and concern furrowing his brow as Mary's gentle visage came more into focus beneath the neon glow. She seemed so out of place in these surroundings, like a dove seeking shelter from the storm.
Yet beneath her doe-eyed fragility stirred a resilience, a depth he sensed ran deeper than met the eye. That intrigued him more than any beauty ever could...that and a nice rack.
Still, getting involved would only risk sullying her purity with his darkness. Clearing his throat gruffly, Dallas started, "Look, doll...um..you need a ride somewhere or what?.."
"I wouldn't wanna trouble you.." she started. She did in fact need a ride, but she was skittish about getting in a car with some guy she had just met. His icy eyes that studied longer than she was comfortable with-it scared the shit out of her.
The urge to brush her concerns aside almost won out.
She can't possibly think I'd-
But he reminded himself his demeanor towards her had been cold at best. Dallas had a reputation for assaulting girls in hopes of getting laid. No wonder the girl was skittish. But he's never force himself on one, never.
Guess she just needs a little convincing.
He let his sharp gaze wander over her delicate form, taking in the slight frame and unassuming stature.
"Ain't no trouble," Dallas said gruffly. He could see the hesitance radiating off her despite her words of courtesy. He didn't blame her - his violent rep preceded him, and his rough appearance didn't help.
Stubbing out his smoke, he leaned back against the brick wall and shoved his hands in his jeans, affecting a casual air. "Look, you don't gotta go nowhere with me. I get it. But it's late, and like I said - creeps out after dark."
"How do I know that you ain't some creep too.." her response caused his eyes to narrow as they set on her once more.
"N-not that y-you l-look like o-one...I d-don't mean anythin' by it-" she quickly added, a stuttering mess as she waved her hands frantically.
Her nervous response raised his hackles.
"Just because I wear leather and have a bad rep doesn't mean I'm some degenerate creep." His tone was harsh, laced with hints of frustration.
He didn't appreciate being lumped into the same category as some sleazy pervert. Couldn't say he blamed her though - greasers like him didn't exactly inspire trust, especially not with soft, skittish fillies like this Mary.
Bleary eyes scanning the empty street as he mulled it over. "Look, I get you don't know me from Adam. An' lord knows the last thing a chick like you needs is some rumbler manhandlin' you alone in his car."
Briefly he met her wide stare, saw the fear mingled with hope that made her so damn easy to want to shelter. He jerked his chin toward the road. "C'mon then. I'll walk you to the bus stop, least 'til you're on your way."
Mary bit her lip nervously but nodded. She didn't mean to cause offense, only voice her natural caution around strangers. Yet as they walked in silence, her steps slowly gained confidence.
This Dallas Winston unsettled her in a way she couldn't explain - both for the danger his reputation implied, yet also something else, something that made her want to understand the soul behind the leather.
His protectiveness, however gruffly shown, told its own story. And the care in his watchful eyes as they reached the stop, ensuring her safety to the last, sparked a tiny flicker of hope that perhaps not all greasers were dark threats after all.
"Thank you," she said softly. Dallas merely jerked his head and turned to leave.
He wore scowl, smoke trailing from his endless cigarette. Leave it to some broad to scramble his thoughts with those big brown eyes of hers. He scratched the back of his neck, sparing a glance over his shoulder as Mary slowly boarded the bus, her small figure illuminated by flickering fluorescent lights.
A funny feeling twisted in his gut that had nothing to do with hunger. She was trouble - soft, sweet trouble he had no business messing with. Yet for some reason, the sight of those rosebud lips pursed in worry or lighting up with a shy smile sparked something unfamiliar in his grizzled heart. Maybe ruining her wouldn't be so bad-
Dammit, you dirty bastard!
He hopped in his rusty truck with a sigh gunning the engine and burning rubber into the night. Maybe it was time to start spending less hours in seedy bars, chasing cheap thrills and forgetting his name in nameless faces. Something about Mary made him want to be more than a nameless greaser riding the edge.
His apartment was a dingy one-room affair as always. But tonight, the dingy walls seemed steadier than usual beneath his restless mind. Settling onto a lumpy couch with a beer, Dallas contemplated the swell of her hips and the musical lilt of her voice amid the evening's usual din. She had burrowed under his skin without ever raising her voice, and he found himself wanting, just this once, to nurture something soft instead of crushing it under a steel-toed boot.
Was he daft, or was there a chance this dame could be the best kind of trouble? Only one way to find out. And Dallas Winston was never one to back down from a challenge.
Dallas sighed as he tossed restlessly on the lumpy couch, it proved to be much more comfortable then the dirty mattress he had. There was no denying his interest in the mysterious girl, though exactly what he planned to do about it remained unclear.
A knock on the door dragged him reluctantly from his reverie. He wrenched it open with a scowl, ready to bite the head off whoever disturbed him.
His friend Two-Bit stood grinning on the other side, rust colored hair disheveled and beer in hand as usual. The guy was always drinking, hell, Steve had once joked about him being born drunk right out the womb. He'd drink beer instead of milk.
"Easy killer, just your pal in need of a crash pad."
Dallas grunted and stepped aside, letting him barge in as usual. Two-Bit plopped down, eyeing him keenly. "You look like hell, buddy. Rough night?"
Dallas ignored the question, taking a long pull of beer. But Two-Bit was like a dog with a bone. "C'mon, something must have you in a snit. Or should I say, some dame?"
A gruff sigh. "Ain't nothin'."
"Bullshit, I know that look. Spill it, who is she?" Two-Bit pried, relentless.
Dallas stayed mum, hoping he'd drop it. But Two-Bit just grinned wider. "Aw, don't be like that. We're pals, right? You can tell ol' Two-Bit."
Relenting, Dallas muttered a name. "Mary."
Two-Bit's brows shot up comically. "Mary who?" When Dallas didn't reply, he cackled. "Never took you for the knight in shining armor type. What, you rescue the damsel from distress?"
Dallas glared, irritated by his needling. "She was in a bad spot, is all."
But Two-Bit wasn't convinced. "Suuure. And now you're all moony-eyed, thinking about your girl."
Dallas growled and stood, beginning a restless prowl. Mary was no one, just a silly distraction he couldn't get out of his head. No matter how much he tried to convince himself - and Two-Bit - otherwise.
Mary fidgeted as the crowded bus bumped and jostled down the long road. Her thoughts kept straying back to the tense encounter with the rough-edged boy called Dallas. He was unlike any person she'd met before - dangerous, yet with flickers of something deeper beneath the surface.
When the bus rolled up to her stop with a groan of brakes, Mary breathed a sigh of relief. Hurrying down the stairs, she glanced around warily in the dark but saw no familiar faces waiting to grab her.
Home was a dilapidated boarding house, crumbling remnants of better times. Mary slipped inside, hoping to reach her tiny room unnoticed. But a slurred voice called from the parlor as she started up the creaky stairs.
"That you, girl? Get in here!"
With a resigned sigh, she turned to find the hulking frame of Mr. Simmonds stumbling her way. His bloodshot eyes roved her slight form hungrily. "Where you been all night, huh? Out causing trouble?"
Mary shrank under his meaty palm guiding her chin up forcibly. "N-no sir, I was just-"
A harsh laugh cut her off. "Just what? Think you can lie to me, girl? Need to teach you another lesson."
As his hands began to wander, Mary couldn't help but recall another pair - calloused yet gentle despite their owner's gruff facade. For the first time, fleeing this trap of a life seemed possible if only Dallas Winston crossed her path once more.
Mary struggled against Simmonds' wandering grip, fear churning her stomach. But years enduring his unwanted advances had taught her that resisting only made it worse.
Spying a sliver of hope, she softened her tone. "Please sir, I meant no disrespect. I'm but a weary girl seeking rest."
Simmonds scowled, drunk on perceived power over her frail form. Yet the lure of bed was stronger. With a foul laugh, he shoved her away.
"Get on with ya, girl. But don't think this is over!"
Mary fled up the creaking stairs, slamming her door's locked bolt with pounding heart. Sliding down the hollow wood, tears came unbidden as reality set in.