Well, I appear to be on a roll with this one! I've got an awful cold, and writing this is keeping me relaxing and getting better! If you can avoid this cold, please do!

Disclaimer: The usual.

CH 13

It was Wednesday before I had to do anything about my assignment. I was glad for some time off. As much as I acted like I didn't care, the whole kidnapping attempt got to me. It was one thing to be worried about Tim and the Tigers and everyone else on the south side, but it was another to worry about the people who were supposed to have my back.

But like I said, it was Wednesday before Tim demanded I come down to the club house. Tim was not a happy camper, and when he wasn't a happy camper, the whole world usually ended up suffering for it. He kind of reminded me of that tiger at the zoo we'd gone to when I was eight. Pacing, prowling, moving furiously, and ready to strike anything that added to his mood. That was why both me and Calligher were standing there silently, just letting him move like a restless cat.

"How the hell can Wyatt be out?" Tim growled, clearly unimpressed.

"You made a very bad first impression," I told him, and not for the first time.

Tim stopped pacing in order to give me a withering look. Like I said, he was not a happy camper. Aside from the fact I didn't like it when Tim was in one of these moods; this was exactly what I needed him doing right now. It was part of the plan. I needed Tim mad and reckless. Well, apparently Chet needed Tim mad and reckless. Chet could be the one to deliver the fake bad news next time.

"Watch it, kid. You've already put me in a foul enough mood."

"Tim, this is not my fault."

"The hell it isn't! You gave me no clear run down on how things were going to go in there. If I made a bad impression, it all falls on you."

Tim had cleared the space between us and was giving me a glare that would probably freeze water. His left hand found a spot on the wall by my head and I shrunk down a bit, having had Pop use this intimidation on me more than once.

"I told you to follow my lead," I told him, sounding about as assertive as a kitten.

Tim's right hand slammed into the wall by my head and I jumped, feeling the fine vibration in my bones that always preceded trembling. It just went to show how shot my nerves were these days.

"Your lead? Who the hell is the boss here?"

"You!" I squeaked.

"Then you'd better fix this. Now."

I nodded, watching Tim move away, and Jake sigh. I ran a shaking hand through my hair and moved towards the phone. Wyatt's number was easy enough to spin into the dial and I only had to wait two rings before it was answered.

"Yes?"

"It's Danny."

"Hello, Daniel," Wyatt's tone warmed. "You sound unsettled."

"I'll be ok."

"Hold on one moment."

I nodded, not really having a choice. I listened as the phone was passed around and nearly choked when I heard a new voice come on the line.

"Hey, Danno. Don't talk, just listen."

Chet's voice was soothing and I tried not to look like I was relaxing. That would have definitely been bad for Tim to see.

"Tell Shepard to be at Wyatt's at 3. Let him bring his second instead of you, alright?"

"Yeah. Today at 3," I repeated back so that he knew that I had been paying attention.

"Good. Tell him to bring the usual amount. Jack just might be persuaded into buying it if he makes the right impression."

"The usual amount." I nodded.

"And Dan? You're doing good, kiddo. I knew you were the right man for the job."

I felt a smile coming on and barely caught myself from showing how happy my brother's words had made me. That was all I wanted to get out of any of this – for Chet to be proud of me for finally taking an interest in the gang.

"Daniel," Jack was back on the line. "Tell the oaf not to be late."

"Sure, Jack."

"Goodbye, Daniel."

The line went dead and I held the phone for a long moment before putting it back on the cradle. I turned back to Tim, Chet's praise boosting me up enough so that I could face him.

"Well?" Tim snapped.

"He wants to have another meeting at his place at three. Bring the usual product, just in case."

"Good."

"Just you, though."

"Where are you going to be?" Tim asked, looking suspicious.

"Wyatt wants to meet you without me as a middle man, I guess. And since I fucked it all up last time, it might be a good idea," I told him.

"You got that right. Jake, you're with me."

"Oh goody," Jake drawled. "A meeting in the middle of enemy territory with a guy who doesn't like you already. Should be fun."

"Enough, Jake."

"And he said don't come if you're going to be late," I reminded.

Tim sent me another look that had me ducking my head and inching towards the door. I was nearly out when Jake spoke again.

"Danny, any pointers for us?" Jake asked, craning his head to look at me.

"Yeah. Don't be rude, and don't be late."

I ducked my head out then, making my way through the club house as quickly as I could without looking like I was in a terrible hurry. I felt like I had something pumping through my system, making me nervous and jumpy, like my nerves were singing under my skin. Weeks of work, of acting like Tim was my boss, like I had to do whatever he said, and now things were finally happening. Sure, it would just be a couple Fuzz sitting in Jack's, watching Tim and Calligher sell a bunch of drugs, but it was enough to put him and Calligher there. Then when a bigger shipment went in, they'd take him down. For now, this was just setting things up for later.

I nearly felt like skipping all the way back to Chéz Shepard. Of course, River Kings don't skip unless they're trying to distract people. So I put up with a little bounce in my step until I was through the front doors. The TV was on and I cautiously looked around the corner to make sure Pop wasn't home. That would just ruin my new found good mood. Who was home was surprising.

"What're you doing home, Chuckles?" I asked, flopping down on Curly's feet at the far end of the couch.

"Don't call me that," Curly groaned, pulling his feet out from under me.

"It suits you."

"Yeah, well, I don't like it."

I felt like laughing. "Oh, there are a lot of things in life that will happen, whether you like them or not."

Curly grunted, turning his attention back to the TV. He looked glazed over, like he had been sitting there all day. That couldn't be healthy.

"I asked you something," I prodded, poking his calf.

"Suspended," Curly replied back, kicking his leg at me to give me the hint. Yeah, poking him was more fun.

"What did you do?" I asked, prodding his leg again.

"Your boney fingers hurt, damn it," Curly cursed, throwing both his legs over my lap. "And I may have told my Math teacher where she could shove her fractions."

I winced a little. When you said something like that, the teacher sent you down to see the Vice Principal. At Will Rogers, it was Dale Gruber, and the man seemed to think going heavy on the strap solved everything. I'd only gotten it once while I was still attending, and I'd walked out of there with one of my fingers swollen up so badly that Dad was sure it was broken. Of course Pop told me it was good discipline and I should shut up about it, but it still didn't seem right to me.

"How're your hands?" I asked.

"Sore. I have some frozen peas re-freezing in the box," he assured me, flexing his fingers slowly.

"How long are you suspended for?" I asked, thinking it was probably a couple days.

"I can come back on Monday. Why? Gonna take me out on a picnic?"

I snorted, trying to imagine me and him out in the park on a checked blanket. "And ruin a perfectly good meal out in the park? Besides, suspended isn't something to celebrate."

Curly didn't bother replying. He just dug his heel into my thigh and I winced. If he kept that up, I was going to get a Charlie-horse.

"So, was that a hint to spend some time with my baby brother today?"

"What, you don't have plans with your best buddy Tim?" Curly flat out sniffed like a Soc when he said that. I was hard put not to laugh.

"Nope. Just you and me."

Curly snorted a little, like he didn't believe a word of that. I guess I had been ignoring the little monkey lately. As it turned out, we ended up sitting on the couch all afternoon, watching silly things like Perry Mason and Rawhide. I never really saw the point to TV, except to keep Pop entertained after a long day at work. It just wasn't something I could get into. I had a terrible imagination.

It was roughly four o'clock when Curly and I were disturbed by Tim and Calligher. They both looked like they were in one piece, so I figured they were successful. Not that Jack and Chet hadn't set them up to be, but Tim and Jake didn't know that.

"How'd it go?" I yawned, feeling mushy after focusing on the box for so long.

"It went fine," Tim snapped. "Turns out you were the problem."

I shrugged. If only he knew.

"Oh well," I offered, waving it off.

Tim walked over so he was standing right in front of me, sending me that same pissy look he'd had on in the club house while he was chewing me out. It looked like he was ready to start in on round two.

"All you have to say is 'oh well'? I'm starting to wonder if all these deals would go better without you in them," Tim threatened.

"Alright, alright. It went well, that's good," I offered, giving Tim a small grin.

Tim sent me another look before he ruffled Curly's hair and made his way towards his bedroom with Jake in tow. Curly muttered something, trying to fix his hair without much luck. The grease needed to be re-combed and I could only imagine Tim's hand was covered with it. With a grunt, Curly dug his heel into my thigh and pushed himself into a seated position, getting up to find a mirror to deal with his image. I ruffled my own shaggy hair, pushing the fluffy blond locks out of my eyes. Yeah, it had been years since I'd bothered with hair grease. I hated the way it made my head feel. It weighed too much and made my hair feel stiff. The whole thing gave me a headache.

I yawned a little, stretching out the muscles that had softened up while the TV had been blaring at us all afternoon. I was just about to wobble to my feet when the door opened again and Pop came into the house. This was the first time I had seen him this close since the whole belt buckle incident and I wasn't looking for a repeat on that. So I stayed still and hoped he would just ignore me.

And pigs flew...

"Hey, Danny-boy," Pop greeted, tossing his coat and lunchpail on the mail table.

God, how I hated that nickname...

"Hi, Pop."

"Since when do you watch TV?" He asked, gesturing at the box.

"I don't," I replied, tensing all those soft and sleepy muscles so I could get up and be somewhere Pop wasn't.

"You do," Pop pointed out, walking over to the couch.

Now, Tim had done this exact same thing five minutes ago and it wasn't intimidating. Pop didn't even look like he was trying and I was beginning to feel like a cornered animal. He just loomed over me for a second before flopping down on the couch beside me. I could feel the heat coming off him – the man had always been a furnace – and being this close was causing me to shake. No one could put the fear of god into my like my Pop.

"I should..." I started, pushing myself up.

"Sit," Pop ordered, pushing down on my shoulder so I fell back onto the couch.

Pop stretched out a bit, propping his right foot on what passed for a coffee table since the last one was broken. It was a sheet of wood thrown over a couple milk crates, but clearly it worked for now. Pop looked like he was good and comfortable, eyes focused on the TV, and head resting against the back of the couch. It was like he was completely oblivious to the fact I was shaking beside him, going out of my mind trying to figure out what he wanted. I hadn't been around since he'd decided to cut up my back, and I hadn't been causing any trouble that would get back to him. So whatever he wanted, I honestly didn't deserve. I hated it, though. I would much rather know what I did so that I could gage what I was going to get out of it before the beating started.

It seemed like forever passed before Pop bothered to open his mouth. "Where've you been?"

I glanced at Pop out of the corner of my eye, throwing all the rules out the window. I didn't care about how I looked right then. Slicing up my back the way he did had been one of the worst things he'd ever done to me, ranking right up there with the time he'd busted my sternum when I was high. It felt like a heart attack and the doctors couldn't give me anything until I'd come off my trip because no one knew what I had been taking at the time. I guess it wasn't so bad because I was high, but I had been completely sober for the belt and it had changed the whole way I looked at him.

"Around," I offered, hunching my shoulders, waiting on the hit that was taking far too long to come.

"Not around here," Pop pointed out, still making no move to hit me.

"I've been sleeping here, but things at the diner have been really busy and –"

"Right," Pop cut me off. "You've been hanging around with Tim's hoodlums."

I blinked. Now, how had he found out about that...?

"I..."

I really had nothing to say to that. Usually my Pop only noticed it when I did something he didn't like around the house. He was normally too drunk or too busy working to worry about things that went on outside the house.

"I don't want you getting involved in that shit, Danny-boy," Pop said very seriously.

I hated the serious tone. When he got like this, he was laying down some law I would have to follow or face the consequences. And it never seemed to be a law I could keep from breaking to his satisfaction.

"You started up with it before you moved here, and it killed your mother."

Translation – I killed Mom. He wasn't about to let me forget that as long as I lived. Whether he was twisting it around to get a reaction out of me, or stating it plainly like this, it was always phrased so I felt a knot of guilt start in my chest.

"So here's what's going to happen. You're not going to hang around with those boys, and I'm going to pretend this was never an issue."

I nodded, the only response I was ever allowed.

"If I hear you're hanging around with them again, I bought a brand new pair of boots the other day."

I flinched. Pop only wore boots for work, and in the factory they had to be steel-toed - it was manditory. It added a ton of power to the normal kick and stomp routine.

"Rob," Curly grunted, narrowing his eyes when he came back and spotted Pop sitting on the couch beside me.

"Hey, Charlie. Go grab me a beer," Pop ordered.

Curly looked like he was thinking on it for a moment before turning to go and do that. Pop may not have hit Curly, but he was still intimidating. The worst part was that if he didn't do what Pop asked him and it got back to Evelina...well, she wasn't so nice about it.

I really wasn't surprised when Tim and Jake followed Curly back into the room. Tim wasn't much nicer to me these days, in fact he took a lot of his temper tantrums out on me, but he was looking out for my interests where Pop was concerned since it was easier to get things done when I wasn't laid up on the couch.

"Here," Curly grumbled, shoving the beer out so Pop could take it. And for the record, Pop never said thank you for anything, so Curly didn't wait for it.

Curly flopped down at the far end of the couch, leaving Jake to take the arm chair, and Tim to sit right beside Pop. I figured they were trying to be helpful, but I wasn't relaxing at all. I was still sitting here shaking, wishing I could just light up a smoke or something. I needed a smoke.

I honestly thought I was going to have a stroke when Evelina walked in with a couple bags of groceries and a scowl on her face. She glanced at where we were all sitting, her eyebrow raised slightly in surprise. I guess it wasn't every day that she came home to a sight like this.

"Hi, Ma," Curly greeted when she cleared her throat.

"Curly," she replied. "How many of you are plannin' on being here for supper?"

Pop looked up, seeming to take notice of everyone there for the first time. "I don't know about your boys, but Danny is."

She looked surprised and I figured I looked equally shocked. It wasn't often I got invited for dinner. Tim and Curly both glanced at me, and I wished they wouldn't. I had no control over this.

"Curly and I could eat," Tim offered, elbowing Curly so he nodded, as well.

"Jakob?" Evelina prodded, causing Calligher to stand.

"Thanks for the offer, but dinner is waiting for me at home," he declined, heading towards the door. "See you tomorrow, Tim."

"Jake," Tim grunted.

We all fell silent when the door closed. Evelina finally looked at us like we were all useless and growled a little, shifting the bags around.

"One of you boys can come and peel potatoes or we're not eating tonight."

"Well, you heard your mother – get." Pop shoved my shoulder so I nearly toppled over, but I got the hint and got up to go help Evelina.

She was busy putting away the groceries when I walked in, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. She didn't have to tell me what needed to be done. I'd helped out in the kitchen enough times to know what was required. I set up on the far side of the table with the bag of potatoes and a knife, focusing on carefully peeling the skin off, glancing over at Evelina from time to time. And like it was bound to happen, I caught her eye on the fourth or fifth time. I jumped a little, ducking my head back down so I didn't end up slicing off a finger.

"Your father talked to you?" she asked and I nodded. "Keep in mind that you only have a few more months until you're eighteen."

I glanced up, wondering what she meant by that. She was focused on the chicken, cutting up the bird into pieces that would feed all of us. She brought the knife down particularly hard on a leg joint and I jumped a bit. I got what she was saying then. I only had a few more months here, but if I wasn't careful she'd remind me in ways I wasn't sure I'd survive. Like I said, Pop I could handle – he had tells. Evelina was a whole other story.

It was right then and there that I made the decision that even if it caused waves; I wasn't going to be here on my eighteenth birthday. I knew right then that if Pop didn't kill me, it would be her.

And wasn't that just a great thought.

Well, we hadn't seen any family action for a while, so hopefully that makes up for it!

Any comments at all are welcome and flames are accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

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