Chapter 6 - Playin' Doctor
The night air hung heavy as Dallas Winston stalked down the sidewalk, shoulders hunched against the gathering gloom. His faded denim jacket hadn't been enough to fend off the chill that seeped into his bones these past few weeks.
Not since the "job" Tim Shepard given him, anyway. The one that had gone south real quick despite the planning and left Dallas with two cracked ribs - they felt cracked - and a busted nose for his troubles. He gingerly touched the tender flesh, wincing. It had only been three days after the rumble and he was still pretty beat up and now he looked like some damn corpse.
He dragged himself down the sidewalk, one arm wrapped protectively around his ribs. His usual defiant swagger was diminished to a weary hobble by the night's events.
As Dallas limped past the lot, smoke billowing from his usual post, his gaze fell upon the warm glow of Mel's diner in the distance. An idea sparked - Mary picked up late shifts there, didn't she? Her church girl nature aside, the broad had proven handy with bandaging scrapes the other day.
With a grunt of effort, Dallas changed course toward Mel's, hoping her soft hands and sweet tongue were working the counter tonight. Lord knew he needed someone to patch him up before he saw Buck's garage again, or risked Tim's heckling tomorrow. Night was still young after all, and Dallas Winston was far from down for the count.
Up ahead, the warm glow emanating from Mel's Diner was a siren song. He pushed through the squeaky screen door, the bell jingling merrily above - a stark contrast to the mess he felt inside.
Scanning the scattering of patrons through bleary eyes, he spotted Mary's familiar figure at the counter. She chatted animatedly with Betty - the stout, ever-frowning owner - as she wiped down the gleaming surface. His lumbering entrance drew their gazes, along with a murmur through the diner.
Betty's eyes narrowed to slits at the sight of the leather-clad hood lounging in her doorway, chest heaving and bruises blooming visibly even through the fading light. Her lips pursed in disapproval, hand settling on one cocked hip.
Mary's glance flickered over and did a visible double-take upon catching sight of Dallas clutching his side. Her face fell immediately, motherly concern - disgust to maybe - overruling other emotions.
What do you want, hood?" Betty snapped, intercepting before Mary could move. Dally scowled, clenching his jaw against the flash of pain it caused.
"Just a word with Mare, thanks," he ground out. Betty opened her mouth for a retort but Mary's gentle hand on her arm cut her off. With a huff, Betty returned begrudgingly to her work.
Mary stepped near, eyes searching his grimly. "D-Dal..what happened!? You were here the other night..h-how the hell did you get hurt again so fast-" she said worriedly, already anticipating the story's violence.. Dallas merely shrugged, eyes gleaming with a challenge as if daring her to turn him away.
With Betty watching like a hawk, Mary nodded towards the back room. "C'mon then, let's have a look."
Once there, she set to cleaning his wounds in focused silence. After a time, curiosity got the better of her gentle nature. "Shouldn't you have gone to a clinic or something instead of me? N-not that I don't mind helpin', it's jus'..you need a hospital!"
He grimaced, unsure himself. Force of habit, maybe - he'd grown used to her saintlike fussing. Or perhaps he liked the way her brows knit when she was worried, though he'd never admit such softness.
Dallas just shrugged, meeting her guileless eyes with his sharp blue ones. "You patched me up good last time, kid. Figured you're as decent a bet as any." High praise from his like. "'Sides no way I'd step into a hospital unless I was dyin'." Mary pursed her lips and got back to tending him.
Why the hell does she look more in pain then me while I'm the one bleedin'?
Dallas sat stiffly as Mary worked, eyes roaming her features while pretending disinterest. A flash of color on her cheek caught his scrutiny - was that a bruise shadows couldn't hide?
His brow furrowed. "You takin' hits from customers now, church girl?"
She paused, as if just remembering the mark, but didn't flinch under his keen gaze. "Oh this? It's nothing, had a small accident."
Dallas frowned, unconvinced. For all her wide-eyed act, he knew the stakes of their world. An idea struck - perhaps he owed a social call to whoever marked that cheek.
But Mary seemed disinclined to tattle tales, focused on daubing antiseptic. Her competence, like her forgiveness, bemused him. Most who crossed his path were eager to make enemies. This girl tended friend and foe alike with equal care.
Strange company for a hood like him, Dallas mused. But in her light, at least his darkness seemed to matter a little less.
A flush crept up his neck - he'd have to be careful around this one. Her steady hands and sweet face stirred parts of him better left alone. He had just realized how damn close she was.
Shaking off wandering thoughts, he asked casually, "This ol' place keepin' you fed, at least?" His eyes followed the lean lines of her form, draped in a plain blue uniform, skirt slightly riding her thighs as she crouched in front of him to work on his arm. Too innocent by far for his sinful mind.
Mary met his gaze calmly, unoffended. "Well enough. It's an honest wage. I wasn't really lookin' for a job, jus' wanted to check the place out, but then Betty came up to me an' offered."
He snorted. "More'n most get round here. Least you don't go hungry." His tone held an edge of grudging admiration - in another life, a girl like her could've had the world.
Yet here she served hoods without a second thought, light in her step despite it all. Dallas found himself hoping her flame somehow stayed untamed, in a place that doused too many others. Looking at her face made him want to be more than a nameless greaser riding the edge - same damn feeling he got when he first met her at the Dingy Dive Bar that night.
"Mary!" Betty called from the front. Mary seemed tore between staying to help Dallas and answering Betty. Reluctantly she stood up, straightening her wrinkled skirt. "I'll be right back..um don't go anywhere.." she said quickly.
"Where the hell would I go?" He grumbled. She let out a nervous giggle and shrugged before walking to the front.
Dallas watched her go impassively, fingers automatically drumming a restless staccato on his leg as he waited. But beneath the nonchalance lay unease - something about this girl stirred him too damn much.
He didn't like the way his mind wandered whenever she was near, questioning who put that bruise on her delicate skin, wondering what her lips might taste like. Dallas Winston didn't do care, didn't do soft.
I think I'm just horny.
But try as he might to harden his heart, her light kept seeping in through the cracks like the dawn he never welcomed. Maybe that's why he kept finding himself back here - pulled towards the only warmth in a cold, cold world.
When Betty's shrill tones brought her scurrying away again, he felt the absence keenly. Dallas lit a smoke to steady frayed nerves, dragging deep as he mulled her over like a puzzle with no solution.
Eventually her soft footsteps approached once more. "Sorry bout that," Mary said, her patient smile returning as she resumed doctoring him. "Betty just wanted-"
"Don't matter what she wanted," he cut in gruffly. After a beat, softer: "You fix me up proper, kid?" Calling her 'kid' was comfortable - less intimate than her real name. Made him feel like he had some control, of what though? Himself? He wasn't quite sure.
Her nod satisfied him, and they lapsed into quiet as Mary worked meticulously. But her presence soothed in a way he'd never known before. Soon she'd be the death of him at this rate, Dallas mused darkly. If he wasn't careful.
Mary's hands trembled slightly as she finished tying off Dally's bandages. Smoothing down the last piece of gauze, she peered up at him through her lashes.
"I hope those feel better soon," she said softly. Impulsively, she added, "Maybe, um, if you'd like...I could walk you home tonight?"
Dallas raised a brow, confusion twisting his features. "Walk me home? Since when do I need an escort, church girl?"
Mary's cheeks flushed a deep crimson. "Oh goodness, no! I mean-" She took a steadying breath. Looking him square in the eyes, she continued, "I meant to ask if, perhaps, you wouldn't mind walking me home after my shift ends?"
A flash of surprise crossed Dally's face before settling into his usual mask of indifference. After a pause, he shrugged. "Yeah, alright."
A smile bloomed on Mary's lips, dazzling in its brightness. Her newfound boldness warmed Dallas more than he cared to admit.
Dallas lingered in the backroom while she set to work, bouncing his restless leg as he chain smoked in attempts to pass the time.
Eventually Betty poked her head in, lip curling at the haze of cigarette smoke. "Clear outta here soon, hood, you're blowin' the place up." He simply grunted in response.
As Mary bustled between tables, she happened to glance out the window - and froze, blood running cold. Lumbering down the street was the hulking figure of Mr. Simmonds, her boarding house landlord.
But he never left the run-down building, preferring to terrorize its inhabitants from within dim, beer-stained rooms. What was he doing out at this hour? Panic set Mary's heart racing.
In her moment of horror, a customer called for coffee, snapping her from fearful thoughts. But every passing minute saw Simmonds drawing nearer the diner where she worked late into the night.
When Betty wasn't looking, Mary hurried to the back, wringing her hands. The girl had gone white.
"Mouse, what the hell is wrong with you?" Dallas asked, taking in her distraught appearance with a scowl.
"Sh-shit..N-no..I-it's nothin'..jus' Mr. Simmonds showed up, I wasn't expectin' him. He rarely leaves the house! I d-dunno I jus' don't want him to see me, doesn't know 'bout me workin' here and he'll start thinkin' I'm tryin' to leave the house a-an' stuff-" she stammered out in a panic.
Dallas watched Mary with mounting confusion and concern. He'd never seen the usually cheerful girl so rattled - okay, that's a lie - but she wasn't usually this scared.
"Whoa, slow down, Mouse. Breathe," he hissed, laying a steadying hand on her shoulder to stop her from pacing around the room. "What's Simmonds want? Thought he was some landlord."
Mary took a shuddering breath, refusing to meet his eyes as she mumbled, "He is, but 'e's...difficult. Don't want no trouble is all."
Though she didn't elaborate further, Dally remembered the fading bruise on her cheek all too well. His eyes hardened. "Hey, I can get ridda' him for ya." he wore a smirk now.
Her head snapped up, fear flashing across her features. "O-Oh Dally no, please! It - it ain't that bad. I'll be fine." But she was quaking like a leaf.
Dallas studied Mary, taking in her frightened posture and shaking hands. He had his suspicions, the bruise seemed to make some sense now.
"C'mon, we're leavin' now," he said gruffly, already shrugging into his leather jacket.
Mary hesitated, wringing her hands. "Oh but - what if Mr. Simmonds sees me? He's out front..."
Steering Mary toward the back door, he added, "Which is why we're goin' out the back. I'll let Betty know. Just hurry up."
Dallas emerged from the backroom, eyes quickly scanning for any sign of Simmonds in the diner. Spotting the towering figure by the front counter, he sauntered up to Betty who was cleaning the register.
"Mouse ain't feelin' good, she took off early," he said gruffly. Betty frowned, glancing back at the now empty kitchen.
"That girl's been workin' too hard," she replied, concern in her tone. But then her eyes narrowed as they fell on Dallas.
"And just what business does trash like you have with my waitress?" she demanded. Dallas bristled inwardly at her words but kept his cool.
"Relax, I'm just playin' escort is all. Making sure she gets home safe," he glanced towards Simmonds.
Betty's eyes followed his gaze, taking in the landlord swaying unsteadily by the counter. She pursed her lips but nodded sharply. "Alright then. You make sure to get her home in one piece, ya hear?"
"Will do, grandma." Dallas said with a grin. Betty was fuming.
"I'm not a grandma, boy!" he heard her yell.
Dallas led Mary through the darkened streets at a brisker pace than usual, his restlessness unwilling to linger anywhere too long. As they walked, he lit up a smoke and shot her sidelong glances.
"So what's your deal? You gonna tell me how a nice church girl like you ended up in a place like Simmonds'?" His tone held an edge of curiosity rather than accusation.
Mary tensed, hands playing with a loose curl in her hair she debated her response. Few knew of her living situation.
"It's...not so bad," she answered carefully. "Roof and food, anyway."
After a moment, Mary continued quietly. "Place was cheapest I could find on short notice. Simmonds seemed gruff but fair at first." She laughed mirthlessly. "Foolish of me to trust looks alone, I suppose."
"B-but he really ain't that bad when he's not drunk," she added.
Dally snorted. "Don't play dumb, girl. I can spot an a snake den a mile off." He fixed her with a pointed look, probing for honesty. She didn't respond, biting her bottom lip worriedly.
They walked in silence for a while, Dallas mulling over her words. Finally, he asked, "Why not find somewhere else?"
Mary sighed. "It's not that easy. Besides..." She hesitated. "...I wouldn't wanna leave Simmonds, he'd get upset an' stuff..I dunno, it's just too difficult.."
Dallas frowned, cursing quietly. This girl cared more for strangers, even meaty drunks, more than herself.
Finally they reached the boarding house. "Take good care, Mouse," he said and turned to leave but he was stopped short.
"Stay out of trouble..please? I better not see you waltzing up to the diner sporting any more bruises, I ain't playin' doctor!" she warned, but it was hard to take her seriously.
"No guarantee!" he called back with a grin.
Dally walked briskly from the boarding house, hands jammed in his pockets as he mulled over Mary's plight.
As he climbed the creaking steps to his dingy apartment, his thoughts were still tangled with the church girl and her stubborn kindness. She stirred something in him he didn't much care for - something that felt almost like...protectiveness.
Shaking his head to clear it, Dally unlocked his door and flicked on the single bare bulb dangling from the ceiling. That's when he noticed the piece of paper taped to the door.
Rents due. Pay up or get out. No exceptions.
Dally cursed, tearing the note down angrily. Like he needed this type of shit right now on top of Mouse's situation. Kicking the moldy wall, he knew his landlord well enough - if payment wasn't made by week's end, he'd have to sling his meager belongings and hit the road.
He dragged a hand down his face wearily. Only one place would take in trash like him no questions asked. Buck's it was, then.
At least there he could collect his thoughts undisturbed by intrusive church girls with big sad eyes. And maybe, through the haze of smoke and alcohol - and Sylvia for the fun of it - a plan would materialize to solve both his and Mary's troubles in one fell swoop. Only time would tell.
For now, Dally took up his blood stained jacket and headed for the one haven remaining in this cold, uncaring place - Buck Merril's pool hall and rumble joints, where danger and misspent youths roamed free. If anywhere held answers in its smoky grasp, it was there.
Mary's face lingered in his mind as he walked, impossibly soft amongst the hard edges of his thoughts.
Damn you, church mouse.