Late July 1959:
I was the king of the alley, Mama, I could talk some trash
I was the prince of the paupers, crowned downtown at the beggar's bash
I was the pimp's main prophet, I kept everything cool
Just a backstreet gambler with the luck to lose
-It's Hard to be a Saint in the City by Bruce Springsteen
It was a typical Thursday night when I met Dallas Winston. I was eleven and too stupid to know when to shut my mouth. My moms boyfriend was beating on me. We were in the hall after I had to pick up something for my mom. We were just about to go into the apartment when I'd said something or another about the spoiled milk in the refrigerator and how he shouldn't have drank it all. He didn't like that very much and slapped me so hard it'd spun me in four different directions. I'd made another sarcastic remark about his strength and he'd hit me again. Saying he could prove his strength. He'd hit me against the wall, and apparently I'd screamed something because the wall had beat right back before a boy had come up the stairs yelling at him to quit. This was one of the rare times in my life where I remembered Dallas as gallant. He came to my rescue, which was strange because after I met him, he never seemed the type to do that sort of thing. He grabbed the boyfriends arm as he reeled back to slap me again and told him to stop gazing at him hard with those brown eyes that would grow cold in a few short years. The boyfriend must have realized it wasn't worth it because he dropped his hand and went inside the apartment. I turned to look at the boy who had saved me from a beating. He had dark aggressive features and looked like he had already been in too many fights at his age. He turned to go into his apartment which was right down the hall. Before he could walk away, I summoned my voice.
"Do you smoke?" He turned around with his eyes lit ablaze.
"Yeah..." He trailed off. When it was obvious he wasn't going to finish, I spoke.
"I got some cigarettes on the roof if you wanna come up for one." He smirked a little as he followed me up the stairs to the roof. I peeled back some bricks where I found my cigarette stash and a lighter. I lit one and handed it to him, doing the same for myself. He took a long drag, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes.
"If this is your way of saying thank you, remind your dad to beat you more often." I barked out a laugh.
"I might, it's my only excuse to come up here." I took a drag too deep for someone too young and spoke again. "He's not my dad, he's my moms boyfriend." The boy snuck a glance at me and continued to stare at the New York City sky.
"At least he's not blood. It's worse if they beat you and they're blood." I didn't ask, figuring he wouldn't want to talk.
"Hey, just so you know, my name is Judith Adler." He turned to me, his eyes flashing. He stubbed out his cigarette as he tried to look bored again.
"I never asked for your name." I smirked, he was trying to be tough.
"Well I'm askin for yours anyway." I tried to say it with some conviction, so he would think I was tough. He started back down the stairs.
"Name's Dallas." He said to the wall, leaving me alone.
xXxXx
Over the next few weeks I started to notice my cigarettes going faster. There was only one person I'd shown the hiding place to and I'd seen him run up to the roof a couple of times, especially when the yelling through the walls grew louder. One night, as I lay in the closet bedroom that I was permitted to, I listened through the walls. I could hear the boy's voice as he fired back at whoever was hitting him. Suddenly, there was a loud crash and the yelling stopped. I crept out of the closet, past where my mother and her boyfriend were sleeping and out of the apartment. I snuck up the roof where I didn't know what to expect. I tiptoed up those metallic stairs as quietly as I could.
There he was, sitting on the edge of the roof staring at the dark night sky as smoke from one of my cigarettes curled around his fingertips. He blew the smoke out softly startling as he saw me out of the corner of his eye.
"Jesus-!"
"I knew it was you stealing my cigarettes." He barked something short of a laugh.
"Consider it payback for pulling that attack dog off of you."
"I consider my debts paid with one cigarette Dallas." I said, mostly just to prove that I knew his name. As I inched closer I saw the blood that dripped out of the side of his mouth, I pretended not to.
"Well Judith." he said, mostly just to prove he knew my name. "I just needed a cigarette, is that a crime in this building?"
"No." I said, moving to sit next to him on the ledge. I pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "Just try to refill them next time, I don't get a lot of spare change."
"Sure." He said softly. I lit up and took a drag. I opened my mouth to speak when he cut me off. "Don't try to make any small talk, I'm not into that shit." I smiled.
"Good, I'm not either." Then he blew the smoke into my face.
"Liar. You wanted to know something about me." He was smiling a bit. "And don't bother asking about the blood in my mouth, you can hear that through the walls." I smirked, blowing my smoke back in his face.
"Don't tell me you don't want to know even one thing about me Dallas."
He nodded slowly, biting on his cigarette which I would later learn was a habit he did when he was thinking.
"Okay, how about next time either one of us gets beat to hell we come up here, share a cigarette, and we each get to ask one question about the other."
"Sure." I nodded. Then smiling a little I stubbed out my cigarette and started down the stairs. I'd wanted to make a mysterious exit, just as he had on our first meeting.
"And Dallas?" He turned his head back to me. "Refill the cigarettes next time."
xXxXx
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