✔️The Greaser and the Skirtchaser [18+]

33. That Time Rita Laid One Flat

Zia Mina would be parked right next to the house phone at all hours of the day, and Vance's mamma would be right at her side. Danny was up in arms about it, ready to round everyone up and send manhunts into Resthaven or even NYC, but they didn't know which city she'd gone to much less an address. Still, Danny would insist on striking out into Resthaven even if he had to go on his own, so Vance would come, too. Less to look for Bianca in a place she wasn't in and more to keep Danny safe.

"Damn it." Danny slammed a stack of flyers down onto a rickety little desk in the hotel room. Then, he went over to a little armchair next to one of the beds and collapsed into it. "Damn it, there's gotta be one idiot in this whole city that's got to have seen her, right? She's taller than the rest of these schmucks by a mile; how could they miss her? Damn this whole city. I hope the Soviets bomb this place first."

"Jesus, Danny." He really could run his mouth when he was mad, but even Danny couldn't carry out his rants as long as he usually did what with all the walking they'd done. They'd swept through nearly the entire city district by district. "She's probably not here."

"Then, that means she might be in New York City. That's way the hell out." He ran a hand through his already messed-up pompadour. "Why would she go so far away from home? That's too far. Damn it, Bianca...."

Vance hadn't said anything about the final visit she paid him. It wouldn't change anything if he'd said something other than Danny blaming him for not forcibly holding her back, so he kept his mouth shut. But it really was Vance's fault. Bianca had always been feeling like that. Alone, different, bitter. He should've been there for her more because he would've been the only one that could halfway understand it. Now that she left, he understood her more than ever yet also less than ever. He also felt untethered. Loose. Maybe Vance would always feel this type of lonely, but his family still needed him, and he did, too. He was always caught in the middle, never able to pick a side without missing the other, and yet he ended up missing both.

"Alright. We'll just have to go to NYC." He patted the armchair, resolve set. "Oh, when I find her, I'm really gonna let her have it. She won't step foot outside of the house until she's—she's fifty!"

Other than pointing out how locking her up would make things worse, Vance commented, "How're we going to get the money to go into NYC?"

"We'll find it. Sell the bikes or mow some goddamn lawns—we'll find the money, Vance." He laughed to himself. "We'll start betting on the goddamn horses."

Vance huffed with a smile. "Let's start with our gig in Resthaven."

"Right. Yeah." He got out his pomade and started slicking his hair back with it with only a few swipes of his comb, but Danny had it down to a science. He wouldn't even use another brand of pomade because it would "mess with the process". He frowned hard at himself while he was doing his hair up, and he gave Vance a quick look, went back to the mirror, then looked at him again. "How'd you find these drag racer folks anyway? They don't seem like the type Jenny would mix with."

"Jenny's friends with people you wouldn't expect." Though Danny wasn't quite there on the fact that most of the drag racers were people he'd call degenerates, he did catch on that there was something about them he couldn't really understand even if he mixed well with them.

"Right," he accepted even though his mouth was tilted down along with his brows. He didn't say anything else, though, and tossed his comb onto the desk before he waltzed out.

They piled into the truck with most of their stuff in the back of it. Vance drove out on their usual route to the drag race. He'd been hesitant at first about taking Danny there, but everyone swore not to mention Blake while Danny was around. It convinced Vance since he could take a lot more gigs with help.