Trouble |The Outsiders|

11. Greasers

Will left shortly after their coffee break, leaving a two-dollar and fifty-cent tip with his thirty-cent bill. After he left, the Dingo officially had no customers and Abigail's mind was reeling with questions.

It was common knowledge that greasers weren't the smartest kids in the world. Nor were they the type of kids to have editorials written about them in the paper. Well, unless they were looking for who broke into the liquor store two days ago. Yet Will, a young man who lived in her neighbourhood, managed to get away from Tulsa and the filthy stereotype that seemed to follow him everywhere. Maybe he had even made it eighteen years in Tulsa without joining a gang.

That was the question she wanted answered. Danny had been in the Shepard gang for nearly two years now, every day getting more reckless. Or stupid. Part of her was grateful, especially since Curly stuck next to him twenty-three hours a day. Abigail was having to constantly remind herself that Tim, no matter how heartless he seemed, would never send Curly or Danny into a situation he didn't think they could win.

It was nearing four in the afternoon, only one more hour until her shift was over. As Abigail wiped down the booths and bar the eleventh time in the hour, her mind wandered back to the gangs on the Eastside.

On the Eastmost side of town where were the Brumley Boys. The last Abigail had seen them, there were a dozen boys in the outfit, all between the ages of thirteen and twenty. They didn't get involved in much real crime like the other gangs, but they drank and smoked, and fought against the socs in Rumbles. They reminded Abigail of the Curtis gang, a rag-tag group of boys who left home in search of their own family. The Brumley Boys used to have a designated leader, his name was Pete Conners. However, the position went up in smoke after he disappeared one day. A week later, the police found a pair of red converse floating down the river.

Abigail was fourteen the day those shoes were found. Danny had practically drug her to the river to see them. They were old and dirty, stained with river water, mud, and blood. Everyone knew who the shoes belonged to, it was impossible to miss the P.C. carved into the ruined fabric. Whether Pete Connors killed himself or was murdered was never released to the public, but after that day, the Brumley Boys slunk off into the shadows, only to be seen when the socs needed to have their faces beat in.

Then there were the Tiber Street Tigers on the more North East side of town. Abigail didn't know much about them. What she did know was that they were run by an unstable young man named Bobby Alex. They were violent and wild, the type of gang Dallas Winston would love to run with. But even Dally knew when a kid was sick with power. The boys in that gang treated Bobby like a god and worshipped the ground he walked on. They did whatever he asked without question, even if it meant carving TST into their forearms.

The last time Abigail saw was Bobby was here, at the Dingo. It was a few days before the turf war was officially announced, but the tension was rising quickly. Bobby and his second in command sat in booth number six eating their burgers and drinking their cokes. Abigail didn't think much about the way he looked at her, or how Bobby waved her over every few minutes, she'd rather put up with Bobby than a soc any day. Unfortunately, Curly and Danny didn't share her vision. As soon as the boys saw him through the window, they told Tim.

The last time Abigail saw Bobby Alex, Tim Shepard was dragging him outside with a hand clamped around his neck. It took three days of heavy rain to wash the blood hat stained the concrete. Sometimes, when she was walking alone after a long day of work, Abigail could still see the gleaming steel blade Bobby held to her brother's throat. She could still hear the sickening crunch of Bobby's nose when Tim tackled him to the ground.

She could still see his cruel smile and glowing eyes as he waved at her before slinking off into the alleys to nurse his wounds.

Abigail stood behind the bar near the back of the diner, carefully stacking the dirty dishes for Jamie to wash when he gets back inside. She hummed quietly to herself as she did so, counting down the minutes until she could leave. The plates, mugs, and cutlery clinked together as she placed them in the sink, not noticing someone had entered the Dingo until she heard their voice.