A Boy Named Pony - A Sequel to East West Sunset

Chapter Nineteen - Ponyboy

Tim told me to meet him on the far East Side, at an abandoned theater that the Shepherd gang called their home base. I'd been expecting a movie theater, but when I slipped through the long, narrow front doors, I found myself in a huge auditorium with an imposing proscenium stage at the front, the kind I'd picture a Shakespeare play being performed on. 

Through the gloom, I could hardly make out the figures grouped at the yawning mouth of the orchestra pit. My breath fogged in front of my face, mingling with the dust motes drifting through the air. The only light source seemed to be coming from the ceiling of the stage, and as I got closer to it I realized that part of the roof overhead was missing. 

That explains why it's so cold in here, I thought to myself crossly.

"Ponyboy? That you?" Tim's voice rang out from the group of huddled men. I heard a flashlight click on; then the silver beam assaulted my eyeballs, nearly blinding me. I ducked behind my arm.

"Yeah, it's me! Get that damn light out of my face!"

"You heard the kid, turn that off," Curly ordered with a chuckle. It sounded more cruel than humored, like he found my menial request amusing. "That's no way to welcome our newest member."

I really didn't like the tone of his voice now.

"Pony, Pony. I'm so glad you chose to join us." Tim approached me with his hand extended, lips pulling back into that shark's grin of his. "It's an honor to have a member of the Curtis gang with us."

I took his hand and shook it once, as firmly as I could. His palm was warm and rough beneath my cold and clammy one; I wondered if he could tell how nervous I was.

I let go of his hand quickly and stared around at the group of men gathered at the base of the stage. There were maybe a dozen men in total, and I recognized not a single one. They looked much older than me, much older than Tim and Curly, even, their ages probably ranging from late twenties to early forties. I was by far the youngest one there.

"Care to introduce me to the rest of the gang?" I asked, stuffing my hands into the pocket of my sweatshirt.

Tim slipped an arm around my shoulders. "Of course, of course. Everyone, this is Ponyboy Curtis, the youngest Curtis brother. Pony, I'm gonna just go down the line." He pointed to the man furthest to the right. "First, that's Dogger. He's the brains of our operations." The scruffy older man flashed me a grin spotted with broken teeth. "Then, Pick and Angelo. They're not really twins but they may as well be - in a tricky situation it's like they can read each other's minds."

I nodded a hello to the next two men, probably a few years older than Darry, both so unremarkable (dishwater brown hair, muddy brown eyes, ashy stubble) that I knew immediately I would constantly be mixing them up.

"Tito -" A muscular, bleached blonde man - "Tavares, just call him T - " A bony, lanky guy with his long greasy hair gathered into a ponytail - "Barney -" A redhead with a bushy beard, quite unsuited to his round face - "Lloyd, he's the gun expert -" Lloyd waved a gloved hand, wriggling his long, crooked nose - "Hops -" Obviously the youngest of the bunch, with fine gold hair that stuck up in all directions and a wide, clean grin - "And last but not least, Warren, who knows every barman in this city."

Warren scared me the most out of any of them, but that was probably because he reminded me of another Shepherd brother. He had dark hair which lay in thick curls close to his scalp, with faded grey tattoos running across his collarbone. I assumed they covered the length of his arms as well, beneath the padded winter jacket he was wearing.

"So now that we got the nice-to-meet-yous out of the way," Curly said, his voice so friendly I almost flinched, "We can get down to business. Pony, you're here and all but we still got a little surprise for you. A little test of courage so to speak."