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“‘Sides, just about everyone knew Patty was already screwing the Diaz boy, you know, the one on the baseball team? He’s real cute I guess, but his sister’s a skag.”
Curly Shepard was doing just about everything he could to keep from just popping Angela one in the mouth. Lord she could just go on and on, they’d been walking five minutes and she’d let him get one word in before cussing and telling him to shut up and listen again.
He settled for grounding the heels of his palms deep into his eyes and groaning. “Jesus Christ Angie, shut up. Can’t a man fuckin’ get a second to think or somethin.”
“You ain’t a man and you don’t think, Curly,” Angela spat back, tossing her hair and doing a pretty fine impression of that girl in the one James Dean movie, where the kid eats it in a chicken race. Curly thought she was a bitch too.
“Yeah well maybe I would, if you weren’t screeching in my damn ear all day, how's that?”
He glared at her and kicked a rock and got her in the shin with it. She yelped like a dog kicked and Curly bust out laughing, nearly tripping over his own feet when she shoved him hard and crossed her arms and walked faster to get a few steps ahead of him.
“Aw Angel, don’t hate me forever,” he called with a mock cry, faking a sob when she flipped him off. “But I’m your brother.”
He jogged a little to catch up with her and she ignored him when he waved a hand in front of her face and pulled a lighter out of the waistband of those drainpipe jeans she’d begged Tim for when she turned 16. He grimaced when she pulled the pack. “Paul Malls? Really?”
“I hate those Kools y’all always smoke,” she replied through a pull and Curly just shook his head and took the one she offered him anyway. “What’s Dallas’ problem anyway?”
Curly snapped the lighter shut and growled around the cigarette. “He’s a fuckin’ asshole, that’s the problem.”
Dallas was supposed to pick Curly and Angela up after their detention that day, they’d gotten caught sneaking out during P.E. to take a smoke in the parking lot, and he never showed. Honestly Curly didn’t know why he ever thought he would, even though Dallas owed him a favor and he sure as hell knew it. He’d bet twenty bucks Sylvia was halfway down his pants right about now too, she’d been hanging around him again after the last guy she messed around on him with caught a possession charge and a six month sentence.
“Well I can’t walk all the way there in these shoes, I can barely feel ‘em I hate these things.”
Curly snorted but stopped and waited while she pulled off the little heels she’d been wearing, holding them by the strap in one hand and still smoking in the other. “Gonna ruin these socks.”
“Blame Dallas.”
They walked for a bit longer, through the rest of their cigarettes and two more, the two of them out smoked just about everyone in their house, before Angela started getting pissy in the way that she did. Dragging her feet and kicking at the ground while she walked and twisting a finger around one of the curls in her hair like she did whenever she was real bored or irritated.
“Can’t we find a ride Curly? We ain’t even halfway there and I’m freezin’,” she finally whined, stopping dead. “Who lives around here?”
“Nobody,” Curly replied, “unless you wanna pay a visit to yer pal Cherry Valance over west a few blocks?”
Angela glared daggers at him for that one and he grinned viciously. It was a known fact in their house that about six months ago Angela decided that she absolutely hated Cherry Valance. Something about the soc stealing her boyfriend, who wasn’t really her boyfriend (“Not my boyfriend yet Curly,”) but who she claimed Cherry Valance knew she was trying to go around with. Honestly, Curly hadn’t really listened when she was talking about it, but if he had to take a guess he’d say the Valance girl didn’t do anything wrong. Angela had a tendency to get pretty wound up about stuff that didn’t happen.
“Go to hell.”
They shot curses back and forth at each other for a couple minutes before passing around the backside of a diner, one of the ones with the parking lots that went way behind the building. There were a couple cars sitting real far back. The street lamps were starting to come on but the one set over them was busted out and you couldn’t make out the cars real good from a distance.
“Hey shut up for a second.”
Angela gave him a look and put a hand on her hip. “What?”
He looked back at her and then at the cars, swinging his back around and opening it up to pull out a bent up piece of what was once a coat hanger.
Angela raised an eyebrow. “You keep a coat hanger in your backpack?”
“Yes.” Curly blinked and looked back at the cars. “You wanna drive back or not?”
“Jesus Christ, you drive worse than I do,” Curly laughed with his boots propped on the dash. It wasn’t a bad idea to steal a car in this area. Everyone here has millions to spend and it shows.
“You wanna see bad ?”
Before Curly could react, Angela slammed on the breaks, screeching to a halt in the middle of a street. Curly went flying into the windshield, only to be saved by a seatbelt. Thank God.
Curly glared daggers at her, leaning back again— without the feet propping though. “The fuck is wrong with you? I coulda gone through the windshield!”
“But you didn’t.”
He rolled his eyes and mimicked Angela’s statement under his breath. If he did something, Angel would always find a way to exploit it to make him look like a dumbass. It didn’t matter. At least he bothered to wear a seatbelt for once.
Angela gunned the engine, taking off down the street and missing two stop signs along the way. Or three. Something like that. Curly watched as she chewed down hard on her gum, making sure she wasn’t going to stop anytime soon before putting his boots back up again.
Angela broke the silence after a minute. “Why’s Tim still friends with the elf-looking ass?”
Curly shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“He’s a sadomasochist,” she said flatly. Curly nodded in assent, as if he even knew what that word meant.
“Why does Tim do anything he does?” She was more asking herself, but Curly overheard and had to get his two cents in.
“Who fucking knows, man. I bet he’s hidin’ something in Dad’s old room.”
Angela took a hard right. “Like what, a shrine or some shit?”
“No.” Curly stopped and thought— a rare occurrence for him— before saying something. “Like uppers or somethin’ like that he don’t want us doin’. He’s always so distant anyway.”
“You’re a dumbass.” She reached over to punch him in the shoulder but missed and swerved to the right.
Yeah, I’m the dumbass here.” He settled back in. He didn’t know what she meant by it anyway. Sometimes her and Tim did that, like they knew something he didn’t. Whatever, he thought, it’s not worth my time.
It was getting dark enough where you would need headlights to see properly on wooded roads, which was where they were. Angela fiddled with buttons and levers, but couldn’t find a way to turn the headlights on.
“Damn, should we ditch this and walk the rest of the way?”
Angel looked ready to spit on Curly for even thinking that. “And ruin my outfit? Hell no. Try that again an’ you’ll wake up head first in the river with a cinder block tied around your neck.” Curly threw his hands up in mock resignation then looked away. He could barely see through the trees. How could Angel even see what’s on the road?
Something came out of the dark. It could’ve been a deer or a dog or anything like that but Curly couldn’t tell. And apparently, neither could Angel.
Angela swerved suddenly. And this time, she couldn’t stop.
Angela was stood on the side of the thankfully desolate road, arms crossed tight and sniffling as Curly was fuming a few paces in front of her, cursing a blue streak in front of what was now their wreck of a stolen car.
“I mean what the fuck are we supposed to do now?” Curly snapped, balling up his fists and hissing when his nail started to break through the skin. “I mean Jesus fucking Christ Angela.”
“It’s not like I meant to!” Angela spit pitifully back. Truthfully, she’d started crying as soon as she slammed into the speed limit sign and for a second Curly had thought she was actually hurt. They’d hit the sign pretty hard, it came up pretty close around a bend, but the both of them were alright, probably already starting to bruise where the seat belts had jerked them back. It was lucky Curly was wearing one at all, Angela always did but he’d just put one on to screw with her about her driving like a girl.
But they were fucked. It was dumb luck they were on a dead stretch of road. There was a gas station a little ways off, but that looked dead too and nobody came out and made a fuss about the crash so he figured they were alright.
“We could call Tim,” Angela said seriously, twisting her hair around her finger again and giving Curly a shrewd look. “He would know what to do with it.”
Curly gave her an incredulous look and gestured wildly. “Tim? You wanna call Tim?”
“We gotta do somethin’ with the car Curly,” she snapped and jerked her head at the wreck. The sign was pretty bent and the engine had only just stopped smoking. The front was totaled. “And I sure as hell ain’t walkin’ all the way home to get the truck myself and doin’ god knows what with the stupid pile of junk.”
She had a solid argument, Curly would give her that, but he still didn’t like it and they stared hard at each other for a second.
“‘Sides, Tim always sells scrap off jacked cars, he could use somethin’ off this.”
There was a screech of tires and both Shepards whipped their heads as a car flew to a stop into the gas station. The guy got out and didn’t spare them so much as a look, but it still put Curly on edge.
He scowled for another second before he caved. “Fine, but I’m tellin’ him you were drivin’.”
“And I’ll tell him you hot wired it,” she replied sweetly, pointing to the gas station. “Go then.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck yourself.”
They flipped each other off again and Curly started walking up towards the gas station. He had to fumble around in all his jacket pockets to make sure he had enough change for the call.
The guy who pulled in before was leaving when Curly walked up and he kept his head down a little, for good measure, when he passed him turning toward the payphone. He’d already gotten all his change in when he realized he probably should’ve come up with something too.
“Hello?”
Curly cleared his throat before answering. “Tim? It’s Curly.”
“What?” Tim asked smoothly, and Curly could tell from the lilt in his voice he figured he’d gotten himself into trouble.
“Well uh,” Curly started, “Sorta got a problem me ‘nd Angel wrecked a car we picked up.”
Straight to the point was always one way to go, and Curly’d just blanked and gone with it, wincing now as he heard the audible screech of a chair sliding against the floor as Tim stood up on the other end of the line. “Angel okay?”
“She’s fine,” Curly held himself back from snapping. He knew Tim wasn’t going to ask about him next, as if he couldn’t have possibly busted something up. “It’s behind the bend on Ashland near 10th, behind the Texaco.”
The other end went silent for a second. “I’m comin’, and I’m puttin’ a steak out now ‘cause you’re gonna need one for yer fuckin’ face after we get back.”
Curly gulped and Tim slammed the receiver down. The line went dead and Curly slammed a fist against the building the phone was hooked up to. Someone shouted inside and Curly turned tightly and started back for the car.
He winced slightly to himself at the thought of Tim belting him one, which he would— Tim was stone cold and serious when it was about getting guys in line. It was all Angela’s fault, but nothing would happen to her. Of course nothing would happen to her , only him .
“This is all your fault!”
Angela looked at him as he walked up, nervousness written all over her face. “What’d he say?”
Curly glared at her, still thinking about Tim too much to get real pissed at her. “He’s on his way and he’s gonna knock us both.”
Angela’s eyes got wide. “He said that about me?”
“No,” Curly spat, accusatory again, “just me, ain’t it always just me?”
“It’s not my fault he likes me,” she spat back, holding herself in a tight hug. “It’s not my fault you’re the one who always gets in trouble.”
Curly’s face lit up with anger. “You’re just as bad as I am, you jus’ don’t get caught.”
Angela’s face fell. For once, both were out of witty comebacks and snarky attitudes. For once, the Shepard’s had nothing to say.
Several minutes passed in stifled silence. Curly kicked a lone stone down the road. Angela pulled the packet of Paul Malls from her pocket. “You want one?” She held one out to Curly. He took it wordlessly, but nodded in her direction. This would be the closest they would ever get to apologizing to one another.
A few more minutes passed in relative peace before an engine could be heard roaring, growing ever so closer. Curly squeezed his eyes shut. There was a beating and a world full of hurt coming his way, and he knew it. But he’d endure it and move on while Angela got nothing. That’s the way it worked. No point to complaining, because that would only make Tim more mad. Just suck it up and endure.
Tim pulled up in front of the jacked up car and stepped out. “Get in.” He was pissed, but kept his voice low and quiet. The yelling would come later.
“What’s gonna happen to the car?” Angela asked meekly, almost shrinking back when Tim glared at her again and Curly almost felt bad. Almost.
“It’s taken care of,” Tim ground out, but Curly could tell he was softening it a bit for her. “Just get in the damn car.”
They did, both in the backseat since they both chickened out sitting next to Tim in the front, and they jerked back against the seat when Tim stepped on the gas hard and stayed there.
They drove for a minute before Tim pulled out his pack of Kools and lit up and they both knew he was about to go at it.
“Who was driving the car?”
There was a split second where they both glared at each other. Angela mouthing curses as if there was anything she could possibly do to make Curly take the fall, and Curly just staring at her blankly, not daring to laugh in case Tim saw.
“Who?” Tim snapped with more of an edge before and Angela gave one last look at Curly before turning back toward the front.
“Me.”
Curly thought she said it real bitchy, like she would’ve if a teacher asked her something in school, but it might’ve just been him.
“And you?” Tim turned to look back at Curly of them and blew smoke in both their faces.
“What about me?” Curly huffed, albeit weakly.
Tim slammed on the brakes so hard Curly nearly choked on the seatbelt, and he actually had to keep from buckling over in pain since they had already been smarting from the crash. Angela was hacking on the seat next to them and Tim at least had the decency to ash the rest of his cigarette before he turned back to them.
“Whose bright idea was it to hijack a car?” Tim had regained some composure. Not a lot, but enough to talk without swearing.
Curly threw one last glance to Angela. He was the inmate on death row, and his accomplice was the one with the loaded gun.
“Me.”
“What?” The other two said in unison. Curly whipped his head around to face Angela. What did she just say?
“I did it. I didn’t wanna ruin my outfit.” Angela refused to look Curly in the eye. Instead, she stared straight at Tim. “I thought those rich fancy cars would have working headlights.”
Tim hissed something under his breath. And that was it, for the rest of the ride Tim was silent. Curly was just staring out the window, amazed Angela had stuck up for him like that. And she was sitting in the seat next to him looking like she might cry, and that time Curly did feel bad.
She wouldn’t’ve looked at him even if he tried to get her attention, she was so wound up now, that Curly didn’t even bother. He just spent the rest of the ride stealing looks at Tim with a guilty feeling in his stomach.
It felt like it took longer, much longer, miles even, to get home but when Tim finally pulled up, Angela was out the door while the car was almost still moving. Curly waited until Tim slammed his door shut to get out after the two of them, Angela nearly in the house with Tim walking after him. If his fists weren’t so balled up around the keys Curly would’ve sworn he wasn’t mad at all.
The door swung open. Tim halfway shoved the other two inside, glancing behind him before closing the door with a slam.
“Angel.”
Angela stopped dead in her tracks to the stairs. “What now?” She wasn’t mad. She just sounded tired and afraid.
Tim dropped his keys on the counter. “You’re fucking grounded for the next two weeks.” There was venom in his voice that didn’t reach his eyes. But Angel didn’t notice as she darted up the stairs before Tim could change his mind.
“As for you,” Tim turned on his heels to face Curly, “you’re on dishwashing duty for a month. Maybe then you’ll learn when to stop people from making poor decisions.”
Curly internally heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh thank God.”
Tim smirked and yanked Curly by the arm. The smirk disappeared as soon as it showed up. “I know Angel was coverin’ for you, but I’ll let it slide this time. Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again because only god knows how high that hospital bill will be.”
“Yessir,” Curly mumbled, and yelped a second later when Tim smacked him on the side of the head and walked towards the back door. Probably a smoke, bought him at least five minutes.
Without another glance he ran up the stairs after Angel and came to a slow stop in front of her door. He could hear Leslie Gore on the record player through the door and rolled his eyes.
He shook his head before he opened the door and tried to remember he wasn’t annoyed with her right now.
“Angel?”
Angela barely looked up from where she was sat up against her headboard, scribbling frantically in a notebook Curly wasn’t supposed to know about but might have read more than once. “What?”
He shut the door quiet behind him and leaned against it. The room smelled like incense and pot, more the former, it always did but she stashed it good enough that no one ever found it and busted her. “Figured I oughta say thanks.”
“Well go on then,” Angela said primly and abruptly shut the cover of her journal, raising her eyebrows when Curly didn’t say anything. “Hm?”
Curly swallowed back an eye roll and crossed his arms. “Fine, thank you Angel.”
“Thank you for?”
He didn’t hold it back that time. “Glory Angela you know what for, and I ain’t sayin’ it again.”
She opened the journal again and started writing again, and if Curly didn’t know any better he could’ve sworn she smiled for a split second. “Knew you wouldn’t, now get, you’ll pay me back later.”
Still a little confused, Curly did leave and he didn’t process much of what Angela said until the door shut, and when it did he groaned. He remembered a conversation with Tim from years ago.
“Don’t never be in Angel’s debt, she’ll make ya wish you never were.”