Chapter Text
The metallic doors slid closed behind her, encasing Goldie in the cool stillness of the DX.
It was just like any other gas station, with snacks and drinks and a wall filled with all the cigarettes a person could ever want. The blue portable radio had been moved to the counter, and though the volume wasn’t nearly as loud as she was used to when her mother was working, she could just barely hear the soft melody of an old Hank Williams song. Goldie scrunched her nose, and suddenly, she missed Mom’s obnoxiously rowdy obsession for Elvis, the Beatles, or even Buddy Holly.
“Marty,” she called, leaning as far as she could over the counter, “Marty, are ya here? It’s Goldie, I need to talk to ya!”
There was a muffled crash from the break room, quickly followed by a spray of curses. And soon enough, Marty appeared, rubbing his balding head like he was trying to massage a sore spot. Marty Koughman was a nice enough guy. He was middle aged and portly, and every time she’d talked to him he often had a cigarette dangling out of the side of his mouth that slightly muffled his speech. Goldie and Alice had always liked him, and when he took pity on Mom after Dad’s death and hired her, they couldn’t have thanked him enough.
But this time, Marty’s dark brown eyes did not brighten when he saw her like they normally did. Instead, he seemed almost hesitant, his eyes shifty and his joyful tone retreated to a more plain manner. He grabbed a lighter from a drawer and lit his cigarette, sucking in a big breath, as if he were preparing himself for the conversation ahead. Goldie supposed she couldn’t blame him, considering this conversation had become a pretty common song and dance over the past year, and Goldie was just glad he liked her enough to give her the time of day. Marty released a deep sigh. She watched as a plume of gray rose into the air and evaporated before them. She wished she had a weed herself. At least that way she’d know what to do with her hands.
“Goldie,” he said, voice low and scratchy from years of smoking, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
The one-note tone in his voice made it abundantly clear that he did not find it pleasurable at all, but if Goldie was anything it was stubborn, so she persevered.
“I know I hate talkin’ bout it as much as you do, Marty, but it’s about my Mom,” she replied, leaning her weight against the counter, “Alice told me ya let her go.”
Marty sighed. “Listen Goldie, you and Alice are good kids. I know how much ya do for your Mom, and I hate to put ya in that situation. But she doesn’t show up, and when she does she’s hungover.”
“I know,” Goldie said, desperation evident in her voice, “I know, and I’m sorry. We’ve tried everything we’ve- We’ve thrown out her bottles and taken away her money and- Hell, we’ve even had interventions with her. She just won’t stop.”
“I know, Marigold. ‘M not sayin’ ya’ll haven’t been tryin’ help help her.”
“Listen Marty. She’s not herself, okay? She hasn’t been since Dad. She’s gone to doctors and they just say it’s the grief, but we know it’s more than that. And I dunno if she’ll ever go back to the way she was, but- But we can help her in other ways. She can work. I know she’s not a perfect employee, but she’s never not shown up, right? She’s never- She’s never talked bad to a customer or to you, right?”
Marty eyed her, as if he were afraid he was about to walk straight into a trap. “No,” he said hesitantly.
Without missing a beat, Goldie interjected, “Exactly! She still shows up and she still busts her ass when she’s here even if she’s not on the dot-”
“Look, Marigold,” Marty said, raising a hand to silence her, and though she wanted to push through him and keep arguing until she was blue in the face, she quickly shut her mouth. Goldie had spent too much time with loud mouthed greasers with a problem with authority to know it wouldn’t get her anywhere, so she stayed quiet and heard him out. Marty plucked his cigarette from his mouth and pinched it in between his index and pointer finger. “I like your Ma. She’s a nice lady. Deep down she’s good, even if she’s got some problems- But that doesn’t mean I can just hire her back cause she’s nice. If she thinks she can keep gettin’ away with this then it’s just gonna get worse-”
“No, it won’t. I’ll make sure it doesn’t,” Goldie fired back so seriously that Marty’s eyes widened.
“Goldie I can’t-”
“ Please , Marty. You got kids, right? How would’ja feel as a father if they was in my place?”
Marty’s brows creased. “Marigold, I don’t think this is-”
“ Marty ,” she snapped, and he promptly shut his mouth, “Alice works three jobs. I work two. I know she’s not bringin’ in much money, but it makes a world of a difference in the long run. And I don’t wanna be here beggin’ you to hire my own Mother back, but I will if it means keepin’ Alice from leavin’ and me going to a home. So please-”
The creak of the sliding doors silenced her immediately, but when she turned to see what poor folks had walked into her rant, she was surprised to find a set of baby blue eyes staring back at her.
“Hey,” Soda said, his voice a strange concoction of shock and amusement, and soon enough the faint outline of his characteristic grin made its way across his face.
Goldie couldn’t look away for a long moment, dumstricken. His arms and forehead were smudged with grease, his hair slick with sweat. And she didn’t know why, but the sight of him in the blue DX uniform, with the sleeves rolled up and his name stitched lovingly into the fabric, caused her ears to heat up even worse than the night before.
“Hey,” Goldie finally managed to spit out, and stupidly, she asked, “What’re you doin’ here?”
Soda’s smile grew and he nodded back towards the doors. “I’m workin. Thought I’d come in to get some water, but I didn’t think I’d see you. What’re you doin’ here?”
And then it hit her suddenly why she’d been certain he looked so familiar. He’d walked inside how many times to get water or crack jokes with Marty while she was running errands for Alice. How many times had they met each other’s gaze, baby blue eyes matched with jade green? How many days had he leaned over the counter and talked to her Mom as she read her magazine or debated what music station to play? Goldie’s stomach ached as it twisted itself into tight, painful knots. Because Soda had worked with her mom . Did he know Mom was a De La Cour? Had he put two and two together and noticed how similar their laughs were or that they both had the same crinkle around their eyes when they smiled? Had her worst nightmare come true, and someone like Sodapop Curtis would now only look at her the way that everyone looked at Mom?
She swallowed around the lump in her throat. Goldie hadn’t realized how long she had been quiet, but when she finally managed to snap herself out of her thoughts both Soda and Marty were staring at her expectantly, and her heart all but jumped out of her chest. What could she say? How much did he know? What could she possibly say that wouldn’t make him look at her differently?
“Um-” Goldie began, but her voice died in her throat and she paused. Marty’s cigarette was back in between his lips. She wished she could ask him for a smoke, but if she picked one up she knew she’d never put it back down. Like Mom. She was like her , and she always would be. She would-
“Goldie just wanted to have a talk about gettin’ her Ma a job back,” Marty supplied, and she’d never wanted to fall through the floorboards so badly.
But if Soda had any opinions about Mom, he didn’t show it. Instead, he looked from her to Marty, then asked in his usual lighthearted way, “Well what did’ja say?”
Marty, as if he foresaw how the future of the conversation was about to go, sucked in a breath. “I told her I didn’t think it’d be a good idea.”
Sodapop’s brows creased. He chewed his bottom lip, and suddenly, his eyes were on her again, and Goldie’s heart skipped. “How do you feel about that, Goldie?”
She blinked at him, confused by the question. How did she feel? “Well- I mean, not great.”
The brunet nodded as if she had said something very insightful. He leaned against the counter with one arm, ankles crossed casually. Goldie thought of her conversation with Soda the night prior, his voice quiet and distant, as if he wasn’t fully present. And she wondered how a person with such vulnerability could turn around and be the most confident person in the room only hours later.
“Marty,” he prompted, and despite himself, Marty smirked, “Miss Ruby’s always been a nice employee, right? I mean, I know Steve and I have never had an issue with her, and I know you haven’t either. And I’ve gotten the pleasure to meet Goldie here, and she’s even nicer than her.”
He looked back at her and winked, and Goldie couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face.
Soda continued without missing a beat, “They’re good people, okay? Or at least I know this one is.” He pointed at her, and if it were possible, her ears reddened even more. “And I know what it’s like to have the pressure to provide at a young age. So if ya don’t do it for her Mom, do it for her, okay?”
Marty blew out another puff of smoke. “Soda, I appreciate’cha for standin’ up for your friend, but you and I both know she’s been unreliable, and I’m sorry, I have to cross the line somewhere.”
“Then let her earn back your trust. She doesn’t have to come back full time right away. Start her off with- I dunno, one or two days a week. See if she does any better, and if she does, then consider movin’ her back to full time.”
Goldie’s eyes softened, and when he shared a glance with her, she mouthed a soft, ‘thank you,’ and Sodapop Curtis just smiled in return.
“Yeah, she can do that. I know she can,” Goldie chimed in, any note of defeat removed from her voice. She leaned against the counter again, her and Soda side by side, as if they were hoping to intimidate Marty into giving a better answer. She pressed on, “Please, Marty. She’ll prove it to ya, I’ll make sure of it. And if we was wrong you can fire her again and I’ll never bother you again. Please .”
Marty stared at them for a long second, brown irises shifting from Soda to Goldie and back again. When his cigarette was nothing more than a stub, he snuffed it out in the ashtray he knew his youngest daughter had made for him in school, and sighed.
“You’re lucky I like you both- She better be back Monday morning in uniform and on time. Got it?”
Goldie actually squealed like an excited child, she was so relieved, and she cried, “Oh, thank you thank you thank you, Marty! You got my word! Oh my God I could kiss ya right now-”
“Ya better the hell not,” he warned, and Soda and Goldie laughed, “Now get back to work Curtis before I skin ya. And go home, Marigold and tell your Ma she’s lucky.”
“I will! I will, thank you,” she called as her and Soda headed out the door, and when they were out of the cool air conditioned DX and surrounded by the thrumming engines of cars whizzing by, Soda grinned at her.
“Nice job, Goldie.”
She laughed. “Nice job? You were the one who helped me out! Why the hell did ya do that?”
And Soda just shrugged in reply, hands shoved in his pockets and blue eyes sparkling. “Cause why not?”
Goldie smiled, swiping her hands through her hair. “Well, thank you. It means a lot.”
Soda nudged her shoulder playfully. “Anytime- Now I gotta get back tuh work before Marty actually gets mad at me.”
She nodded, a smile still wide on her face. “Yeah, I’ll see ya around.”
“Goldie, before ya go,” he said, stopping her in her tracks. When she turned to him again, there was a sudden shyness in his demeanor, his shoulders slightly hunched and his smile less proud and just plain kind. “Me and the gang were thinkin’ about goin’ to the drive-in sometime this week. Wouldja wanna come?”
Normally, Goldie was used to rejecting greasers who invited her places ‘sometime soon,’ because she knew that normally meant there were other plans in mind besides something like the drive-in. But this time, Goldie couldn’t help but grin eagerly.
“Yeah, I’d love to.”
“Great,” Soda said happily, “I’ll stop by and tell ya the plans sometime soon. That okay?”
“Yeah, of course,” she replied, her smile so wide that her cheeks were beginning to ache.
They said their final goodbyes. She started down the street, but she couldn’t deny that her gaze lingered on the DX a little longer than normal before she turned the corner and headed for home.