It Happened Like This

FOUR

It Happened Like This

Chapter Four

Jeffrey picked me up at eight o'clock the next night, as promised. I wore a light sweater and knee-length skirt that I had somehow managed to keep on myself despite Judy's persistent promotion of the east side's latest fad: itty-bitty-mini-skirts.

An Elvis Presley, Ann-Margaret picture was playing at the Nightly Double that night. Jeffrey parked the car a few rows down from the screen and socialized when any of his Shepard boys approached us. He had been a fine gentlemen all night; complimenting my attire more than once, opening doors for me, all those funny date things.

I was rather into the movie, but when Jeffrey started incessantly tapping his knee halfway through the movie, I got the idea that he wasn't so enthralled. I remember that Elvis Presley had been just about to kiss his latest on-screen ingénue when all hell broke loose around me.

Okay, so maybe that's an overstatement, but I sure felt startled enough to spill popcorn all over myself.

Jeffrey and I turned around swiftly to peer through the back windshield when we heard shrill screams coming from somewhere not all that far away. A few greasy boys I could recognize as part of Shepard's gang hurried past our car toward the sound of cheering and yelling.

From what little I could see, I could assume that there was a fight going on. "Sounds like a fight." Jeffrey spoke my mind.

"It looks like Shepard's involved," The boy observed. He looked at me tentatively, biting his lip, "I gotta go see. You understand, don't ya?" I nodded, feeling unable to speak as I grew fearful.

Jeffrey opened the door to his car, then hesitated for a moment, turning back to me. "Hey, don't be scared." Hurriedly, he said, "Maybe you oughtta come with me. 'Cept you gotta stay back, okay? Maybe you even oughtta wait inside the snack stand. The scuffle will me over real fast. Just wait for me and I'll come get ya."

I nodded in response, but my date had already disappeared. He dove off into a crowd of people, probably going to join the fight. I wondered how long it'd be until somebody came to break it up. That 'somebody' would probably be the cops. What a date.

It's hard to understand, but there are some things that just have to be priority when you're from my side of the tracks. Like loyalty. Jeffrey may as well have been born a Shepard by blood since he was practically Tim's right-hand-man in most matters of the gang. When you're in that kind of position, things like loyalty mattered. Jeffrey would join in on any fight that his gang fought, because he was loyal. He was a greaser. I was a greaser, too, so I could understand the sentiment. Sometimes, I wondered if people outside of Tulsa ever felt loyalty like greasers did. I didn't think so.

I strolled over to the little snack stand where Jeffrey had mentioned he'd look for me. I hadn't really understood what he'd said, since he was in an awful rush.

I noticed a stout, bald man behind the candy counter talking feverishly to someone on the phone. Probably the cops. The man acted as if any teen within thirty feet was probably going to start pounding him.

It occurred to me briefly that it was sort of odd for Tim Shepard to be hanging around, starting fights at a drive-in movie theater on a Saturday night, but I suppose the guy had always been unpredictable. I hadn't pegged him for a teen-beach-movie kind of guy.

It occurred to me just a little too late that anywhere there was Tim Shepard there also could be-

"Square? What the hell are you doing here?" Dallas Winston.