East West Sunset - A Darry Curtis Fanfiction

Chapter Twenty-Seven

It was getting late, and most of the greasers left with their dates. Soon we were the only ones left in the bar besides the bartender. Darry, his arm around my waist still, started to glance toward the door and gave Soda a few looks, but Soda ignored him and shotgunned another beer. It was time to get going, though; a few times I caught Ponyboy barely suppressing a yawn.

I was about to ask everyone when they wanted to go back home when two older greasers sidled in behind the bar from a side entrance. They were rough-looking, with tanned, tattooed skin and firm muscles etched with scars. They wore leather jackets and worn military grade boots and each had a wicked knife strapped to his belt. They immediately smiled in our direction with doglike smiles. 

"Hey, Curly. Hey, Tim," Darry greeted them coolly. Two-Bit and Soda also gave them smiles of welcome, but there was something wary about their expressions that made me uneasy. I had never seen the gang act afraid before; even when they had taken on the Socs in my defense, they hadn't shown the slightest bit of intimidation. There was an air of uneasiness in the air as the two greasers made their way towards us.

"Hey, there, Curtis, Curtis, and Curtis," the taller of the two said, nodding at the three of them and smirking.

"Tim. What've you been up to?" Two-Bit asked as the two of them shook hands firmly.

"Nothin' much. Haven't seen y'all around here lately," Tim said. "You forget about us?" He looked at Ponyboy and Bryon.

Darry's arm tightened around me for a quick second. "Well, ever since Dally died we haven't been really around much," he agreed.

"Yeah, poor kid." Tim didn't sound too sorry, though.

I wondered privately who this Dally guy was, and how he had died. I made a mental note to ask Darry later. 

"I heard you got in a rumble today," the shorter one, Curly, said abruptly. "With the Carreros over some broad. Arnie Carrero was talking shit to a buddy of mine."

"Not some broad," Darry said. "But yes."

Curly's eyes swept me up and down, rightly presuming that I was the broad who had instigated the rumble. "Ah. I see. Not some broad, your broad."

"I don't believe we've met the lady yet, Curly," Tim interrupted as Darry opened his mouth angrily, taking his hand off of my waist and balling it into a fist. "Keep yourself civil for a few seconds." He gave me the smile of a wolf. "I'm Tim Shepard. Co-owner of this fine establishment and leader of the baddest gang of greasers this side of the Arkansas River. Very pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," Curly said quickly. "I'm Curly Shepard, the real leader of the gang and other co-owner of this bar."

"I'm Diana Jean," I introduced myself, shaking each of their hands. I didn't like how they felt under my palm; instead of the hard strength and gentleness of Darry's workworn fingers, they were all thick tendons and lethal muscle. It wasn't hard for me to imagine those same hands strangling someone's neck or stabbing a knife deep into a person. I snatched my hand away after a polite amount of time.

"Well, as I said, it is a pleasure," Tim purred.

"We should get going," Two-Bit said.

"We should." Darry's voice was carefully controlled steel. "It's been fun, boys."

The corners of Tim's mouth quirked up, more of a spasm than a smile. "Glad we could entertain you," he said.

"Have a good one," Curly added.

I followed Soda and Steve out of the bar, risking a glance back at the Shepard brothers. They were both watching us leave intently as we walked out, and I turned my back on them.