Come Down From Your Fences

Chapter 26

A slick, black Pontiac sat idling at the curb, its engine rumbling smoothly. Its driver, however, was far from idle. He was a study in impatience - one arm hooked outside the open window, his hand beating a disjointed rhythm on the roof of the car, while the other hovered over the horn - poised to sound it for a third time. His eyes darted from the windshield, to the rear view mirror, to the front door of the house and back again - repeating the pattern that was second nature to him.

The door finally opened and Winston emerged, moving slower than molasses in goddamn January. The guy moved with absolutely no sense of urgency, as though the world would just fucking sit there and wait for him to catch up.

Tim was beginning to doubt his plan - teaming up with Dallas Winston might just stretch his patience to its breaking point. One thing was certain: either this partnership would work or one of them would end up dead. And Tim Shepard wasn't aiming to die any time soon.

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Dally wasn't surprised to see Shepard in a new car. What did surprise him was just how cool it really was. A GTO, with a convertible top, he had no trouble picturing himself in it - top down, wind whipping through his hair, arm around some hot chick - yeah, it was a cool car.

"Looks like your grandma finally got a new pair of glasses and some taste. This is a tuff ride, Shepard."

Tim opened the door and stepped out of the car, motioning for Dally to take the driver's seat. "It's yours for now. Consider it a company car, so I don't have to haul your sorry ass all over the fuckin' town."

"That's cool and all, but I don't wanna get stopped by some cop for drivin' a hot car three hours after getting out of the cooler."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Relax. They ain't never gonna trace it here. Car's from Oklahoma City. 'Sides, swapped the plates back in some hick town between here and there. The car is clean."

Dally slid into the driver's seat, a sly grin forming on his face as he ran his hands over the steering wheel and crisp, clean dashboard. Tim got in the passenger side and motioned for Dally to start driving.

"I'll explain things as we go," Tim said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a heater. "Figured you'd be needing one of these too, since the fuzz got the one you robbed the store with."

Tim leaned forward and put the gun in the glove compartment. "Now you'll want to be careful with that, seein' as how it's actually loaded."

"Screw you, man - it works in a bluff," Dally hissed under his breath and Tim let out a sharp laugh.

"Ya know, if your bluff ends up landing you in the hospital, shot to hell, and then stuck in prison for six months, then perhaps your bluff ain't working as good as you think."

Dally didn't have a comeback for that one, so he ignored it.

"So, how did things go back there with the Curtis gang?" Tim asked, changing the subject.

Dally shrugged. "Everything's fine, no big deal."

He gripped the steering wheel tighter as that voice in the back of his head started up again. Accusing him of practically running from the house; using Shepard as an excuse to escape. He should have stayed there. They should matter more than this stupid scheme Tim cooked up. Johnny should matter more.

... Coward ... Loser ... Weakling ...Yellow Bellied ... Spineless ... Pathetic ...

He wound down the window, hoping the wind would distract him.

"How's the kid?"

"Who?" Dally asked, pretending he didn't know that he meant Johnny.

"What do ya mean, who? Cade. How's he holding up? Curly said Ponyboy was real proud of him. Hell, even Curly sounded like he was almost in awe of the kid." Tim shook his head in amazement as he leaned over and pressed in the car's lighter.

"Johnny's fine. He's got the gang to help him." And he doesn't need me around to screw things up, he added silently. The lighter popped out and Tim reached over and grabbed it, using the glowing end to light a cigarette.

"Man, though, it's gonna be tough in this neighborhood. Survivin's hard enough without having to do it stuck in a wheelchair."

"He ain't in this neighborhood anymore, remember," Dally reminded him.

"Yeah, but the neighborhood has a way of following you." Dally rolled his eyes, wondering when the hell Tim Shepard had become a philosopher.

"You going tell me about this master plan of yours; or are we just gonna drive around all day, talking like two old ladies on the stoop?" It came out a little more harshly than he intended, but Dally really wanted to change the topic.

Tim blew out a cloud of smoke. "We'll be there in about twenty minutes. Patience, Winston, or I'll ditch ya right now. If I wanted this kind of crap, I woulda asked Angela to come along."

Dally shivered at the thought of Tim's kid sister tagging along on a job. She was hell-on-wheels - and not in a good, fun, "yeah, I'd do her" kind of way. No man, she had a glint in her eye that made him think once she latched on to you, she wasn't ever letting go. It might piss him off every time Sylvia strayed, but at least he didn't have to pry her off with a crowbar.

Tim's estimation of time was about right and roughly twenty minutes later he was telling him to pull over. Dally looked out the window, surprised to see the large expanse of rich homes that stretched out before them. They were on the West Side of town - the Soc side.

Dally leaned forward, crossing his arms across the top of the steering wheel. "So what's this master plan of yours? We get some rich broads to marry us and we move in?"

Tim sighed, "Or we rob them."

"We're going to rob houses?" Dally asked, still trying to process everything.

Tim nodded, lighting his third cigarette of the trip. "We're going to rob from the rich," he spread his arms wide, indicating the scene out the window, "to give to the poor," he finished by pointing to himself and Dallas.

"Like fuckin' Robin Hood," Dallas grinned.

"Now you're catching on. The way this works is that there's this guy in the post office who processes all the requests for mail to be held for when people go on vacation. He'll find out that a house will be empty, and then he'll tell us, and then ..."

"We'll clean them out."

"Exactly."

Dallas was thoughtful for a moment. "Good plan. When do we start?"

Tim pointed out the window, indicating a huge, white house that was perched atop a hill.

"Those kind folks are leaving for vacation in two days. In ten days they will return to an empty house. We start planning now, assemble a crew, and I expect us to roll in five."

Dally nodded, pleased to feel the excitement start to hum in his veins. He'd missed it.

"Cool," was all he said, but that was enough.

They sat there a while, watching the house, getting a feel for the neighborhood. Some people were out and about. A couple of kids were walking a dog that was taller than they were. A woman who was dressed like a servant was pushing a baby stroller on the sidewalk and Dally figured she must be a nanny. It was like looking at some surreal photo come to life. He couldn't believe his neighborhood was only twenty minutes away from this. He was pretty sure that these people would have had the same reaction driving into the East Side of town.

A girl caught his eye, a woman actually. He recognized her immediately, although he'd tried to forget her. She looked all perfect and put together; it actually made him nauseous to look at her. Her step had a bounce to it, obnoxious and fake. She looked innocent, but he had a feeling he knew better. She'd been all full of fire and hate when she'd thrown that coke in his face. She wasn't fooling him.

He started up the car, startling Tim and apparently drawing her attention as well. She looked over at the car, their eyes met - hers narrowed in recognition and Dallas muttered "Son of a bitch...," under his breath.

Pulling away from the curb, breaking her stare - he peeled away down the street, forcing himself not to look back. Things had just gotten a whole lot more interesting.

He wondered what Sylvia was doing tonight.