inspired by The Outsiders
My job in Tulsa was okay.
I never really liked talking much so my parents thought putting me in an environment where talking to people was kinda my job would be a swell idea. They were kinda right. I got better, charming and now I'd even go so far as to say I was actually good at my job. People actually liked me.
Sometimes, being so young, they liked me a little too much.
When you live away from all the central action in Tulsa, you forget about the greasers until they burst into your workplace, causing a ruckus, throwing things, stealing sauces. It's those times where people like me suddenly go back to not talking again. Those days I could easily put my badge on the desk and walk out.
But, I didn't.
Every Friday this one gang would come in, names only familiar if you read the papers every day. They roared and laughed and nudged eachother into different tables and there were people sitting at those tables. Only one or two would apologise.
I only put up with it because I knew that this was life, there were no cities filled with halos and I was okay with that. If I was gonna cut the cake I knew I'd have to eat it, you know? Also, it's cause I felt bad for the people who had to deal with this constantly. Imagine their parents or the lack thereof, they must be as bald as an elbow.
I grab my pad and pen, gliding over to the table with a little prayer before I reach it.
Their loud conversation crashes as if I was out of place for approaching them.
"Can I help you?" a guy, the most confident out of the bunch it seemed, boomed from my left.
I flip the page over, getting ready to write.
"What can I get ya'll?"
Some of them giggle but I notice a face or two glaring either at their so-called friends or the table in shame. At least it wasn't all bad.
"What makes you think you can just come over here huh?"
Deep accent guy continued, Dallas Winston. He'd been in the news a couple of times for petty crime, just a handcuff or two to put a couple of notches in his belt. It was the same with the rest too.
I was trained in this field but also I couldn't help the red flush crawling over my cheeks.
"This is kinda how this works, I come over to ask you what you want and you tend to answer honey. If you're not buying anything ya'll will have to scram."
That shuts them all up, a couple even taking a gulp or two. I write down a couple orders, smile and return to my little pod where I could stay for at least 15 minutes just to calm myself down.
"Order up!"
The hour they spend in here was torturous and filled with refills of Cherry coke over and over until my hand was tired of pouring and my mouth tired of smiling. Relief washes over me as they leave, not putting on any jackets as they were too attached to take them off in the first place. They scrambled as if they're dining and dashing but there's one kid left, the youngest looking.
I go over to collect the scrumpled couple of bills thrown onto the table and pick up a couple plates, taking them back to Big Al in the kitchen, who was currently screaming along to the radio. I giggled at his dance moves, the rest of his body moving with him about 2 minutes later.
When I look ahead, there's that kid. Dark hair, a rather large gauze in his cheek, dirty denim plastered all over his body and a charming twinkle in his eye.
"Hi there," he smiles politely, hands stuffed in his pockets as if I was blasting him with ice.
I jump at his presence, ready to run or something but he didn't really look the sort. You never knew these days. The poor kid looked like he'd been ragged around my almost everybody in Tulsa. Still, he was kinda cute.
"Sorry for scaring ya, I didn't mean to," he apologises desperately and I laugh at him, converse contrasting with the guilt in his eye.
I was beginning to think this was an act.
"It's okay you're good. Can I help you with something?"
Despite hesitating before coming over here, he sure looked like he hadn't had enough time to plan what he was gonna say. He was kinda awkward for a greaser but bad he may not be, I couldn't say the same for his friends.
"Oh yeah, I just- I wanted to apologise for the guys, they can be kinda loud sometimes."
I grab a glass, wiping it so hard it squeaks from being so dry. I couldn't help but get angry looking back, why should people like us have to constantly tolerate guys like them because it's "safer"?
"I'm not sure loud is the word for it," I slam the glass down behind the bar aggressively, making the guy in front jump out of the chair he was half leaning on.
I place my hands on the counter, leaning into him with fascination. He was like a little timid kitty really.
"Why do you hang out with those guys?"
He doesn't need to think about this as if he'd answered it a hundred times over. The cheeky little grin that he had wiped off his face like I had disrespected a family member. I grew a little anxious in my uniform, maybe even going so far to say I sweat a little bit.
"They're not all bad."
"Oh yeah sure, that Dallas Winston's a real dream."
He laughs, hands still heating up in his pockets. I couldn't draw my eyes away from that scar, I wonder who could do that to someone like him who'd been so nice to me so far without having to be. No one asked him to come over here and apologise yet he did anyway. He was real sweet.
"I mean it. Dally has his moments but he's a cool guy. Soda, the guy sitting next to him he's charming, good looking. Darry, his older brother opposite him is real strong, he could bet anybody. Steve, the one without sleeves on his denim is super crazy but will do anything for any of us. Two-bit, the guy in the mickey shirt who won't stop laughing? Yeah, he's funny, respectful and he loves cartoons and cake. That boy can eat."
His eyes light up when talking about each of them, they were like his family and you could see that. You didn't have to be a genius to figure out things weren't so good in his own home either, so being with those guys gave him more family than he could ever hope for.
They were still a little rude.
"What about the boy in the hoodie, next to you? He seemed awful quiet."
I remembered him s the guy who stared at the table as soon as Winston opened his mouth, He seemed a little different, just like this guy opposite me at 10 pm this Friday night.
"That's Ponyboy, Soda and Dally's brother. He's my closest friend out of the gang. Pony's real smart, quick, funny, sporty you'd like him. Loves to read and watch movies. No one really understands him."
I get up not looking at him in shame of myself.
"You know, you may have gone changed my mind. I'll come up for a beer sometime, treat ya'll extra special when you fly in."
I laugh, joking around slightly.
"Maybe you should."
I look up to see a face that was far from joking around.
