logging iv

[orangetoughguy]

welcome home

Comments

[orangetoughguy]

[What the fuck just happened? What the fuck just happened?? That's not how this happens. Shit you're going delirious, Newendyke, maybe this is the fever dream. Maybe this is your false awakening and you're going to get shot and wake up back in that place you thought was real but wasn't but could be. The kid's cold wet and speechless. His department, his brothers will be here any moment now. Soon he's going to tell the old man he's a cop. But this isn't how that happens. Joe and Eddie Cabot are dead. Two bullets spared.]

[whitetwoguns]

[What happened was what they call a double homicide. Not even two seconds after the bodies drop to the ground Mr. White heads to the ramp to scoop up the man practically glued to the platform. He's all action while his thoughts are like a silver ball in a pinball machine. Is this a dream?

Was that a dream?]

C'mon.

[Before the cops show up. They're going to show up. If they didn't before, they have to know. Joe's here. And that was two more bullets to make noise.]

[whitetwoguns]

[A cheap cassette tape frees them of the burden of trying to find a radio station. The old man leans back in his seat, watching the scenery pass. The destination is obscure, just farther.

A breeze ruffles his hair. Freddy is in charge for the time being, for a moment he shuts his eyes.]

I'm getting a little hungry again.

[For tacos. Or more. No rush. Larry's no backseat driver here so he doesn't try to change up the kid's driving at all.]

[orangetoughguy]

[The fact they have a cassette to play in the tape deck at all is a stroke a luck. The fact that it's The Doors is a fucking miracle. Freddy's got the wheel, they're cruising along to Whiskey Bar.]

I could stop for some tamales.

[Freddy nods but almost sadly so because while his wound is healing up he can't really expose his once cast iron stomach to anything too wild just yet. Bland food they said, no alcohol they said, no coffee they said. How is he even awake?? Who knows.]

[whitetwoguns]

[Dusk makes the sky all red and yellow on the outside. On the inside at the bar it is timeless. Larry's rum and coke tastes refreshing. Now and then he looks on over to Freddy to make sure he's still there.

So he was half wrong. It isn't a brothel. They just have whores who know how to find their game.

Just when he's about to comment on the 'football' game on the big, boxy TV something perfumed leans on the bar at his side.]

Oh Papi, why you looking so tired, so sad?

[He clears his throat and throws Freddy a glance as if to say 'I didn't start it!']

I'm not neither.

[orangetoughguy]

[Why so quick to defend yourself, old man? She just showed up and maybe she doesn't know better. No harm no foul. The kid gives a shrug before sipping on his soda. No alcohol for the time being, stomach orders. But even as he turns his head back to the TV those caramel eyes are keeping watch from the corners. It's nothing doing, Freddy tells himself.]

[orangetoughguy]

[Freddy sure is nursing his drink (soda) all quietly to himself. Minimal conversation. But his senses are alert (as alert as a healing man can be) he's paying attention to the comings and goings in this cantina. Being a (former) cop on the run though he's had the forethought not to sit in the farthest corner facing the door. That would be obvious or something.]

[whitetwoguns]

[Larry has ditched soda involving anything. Beer is going down his gullet at a decent pace. Not that he's trying to emote or anything. He keeps his conversation attempts at a minimum. This one he has to bring up.]

Is it me or is this place...different?

[whitetwoguns]

[They can hear the roar of the crowd at the bullfights from the dining area of the restaurant of the hotel. Larry's cigarette burns between his cigarettes as he's counting out the bills and coins.]

I feel like I'm forgetting something somewhere.

[He reaches into his back pocket again. Ahaha. He missed a bill. Now for the breast pocket of his button down.]

How 'bout you? Anything helps about now.

[orangetoughguy]

[Caramel green eyes sort of roll because he's totally sure Larry didn't forget something Larry's just showing off how much dough he's got yeah that's totally it fff.]

Wait.

[Reaching into pocket Freddy pulls out a crumpled...dollar. Yep. A single crumpled but very American US dollar. Here you go, Dimmy, he throws it on the pile. Heh.]

[whitetwoguns]

[Sleeping on down next to a warm body is a very solid sleep. Even that kind can be disturbed. All it takes is a steady, hard set of knocking. Or at least a steady thudding. It's not going to let up. Larry rouses and it only takes a few fractions of a second to realize where they still are.

What the fuck.

He only spares a few pats to Freddy. Surely he isn't gonna sleep through all the noise.]

Guns. Where are the guns?

[Oh. Nightstand. Yes.]

[orangetoughguy]

[Snort snrrt snort snrk. What's going on?]

Huh?

[Wait he said the g-word. Immediately training comes into play. The kid slinks out of bed to get his own firearm, locked and loaded. Fortunately the old man said 'guns' and not 'shots fired'. However Freddy does give him a look and a gesture: "WHAT DO WE DO?"]

[whitetwoguns]

[Larry digs for his copy of the key. Since he's got the bag of food (something for the kid) in one hand, it makes him stop and think before he tries to knock. This is 'home' as much as home can be for now. A townhouse, not stifling but sure not the same amount of roomy. It's pretty new still. He comes in and takes his time, fully expecting to still be alone.

The whistling chorus of a Guns N Roses song comes out of his lips.]

[orangetoughguy]

[Who does he think he is? Who does he think he is??

Freddy mulls over these lines in his head as he goes from the bathroom to the bedroom then back to the bathroom then over to the balcony because fuck there's nothing else to do in this dump (it's not really a dump at all). That rat bastard of an old man though.

Down the stairs and to the note left in the kitchen. Freddy can't help but scowl at it when the sound of a door opening gets his attention. Think fast, Newendyke. Look angry or look busy??

He breaks open the fridge to calmly make a sandwich.]

[whitetwoguns]

[Coffee and toast make the morning seem like a bigger, brighter place. Feels good to wake up and be alive.]

I dunno why I bother getting the newspaper.

[Just because he can speak Spanish doesn't mean he want to read it.]

[orangetoughguy]

Looking for a white picket fence and a dog too?

[Freddy quips as he looks up from...not a comic book, but a cereal box that has cartoons on it. He's trying to spot all the similarities that make it a Mexican cousin to Capn Crunch.]

[whitetwoguns]

One suit. Just one. The rest we should keep casual.

[That's not so hard right? Larry has a few bags in his hand. It's not a high rolling shopping spree. This is a different sort of Dimick. One that is checking price tags and money managing.

The market place is something like a swap meet without an end. Indoor. Outdoor. All sorts of things.]

[orangetoughguy]

You can't have just one.

[Freddy says, not as a declaration but as an observation of what he knows of Larry Dimick's nature. He can't have just one. Then again he's never had to live with the old man on the lam for long. Maybe the kid's just spoiled. Surely that's obvious by the bag of stuff he's holding that's not full of necessities. Also the ice cream in his hand. Yeah, ice cream. Who wants to make something of it??]

[whitetwoguns]

The area is just down town.

[Down town LA. Dirty. Busy. Urban.]

A couple of blocks down too. How much you figure they pay rent, really?

[Only one way to find out. This is the forth they've been in the area.]

They got neon.

[orangetoughguy]

Only one way to find out.

[Freddy gives a most casual shrug under his comfy non-distinctive jacket. They're just browsing. Nothing doing.]

I gotta buy smokes anyway.

[He adds as they approach. See, practicality, Dimmy.]

[whitetwoguns]

C'mon, buddy. Yeah. This way.

[Snuff, snuff, snuffling here and there. The leash is also his rope collar. Larry has it wrapped several times around his fist. He should have gone first to Freddy to talk it over. But that would have been a moment too long.

Right through the house and to the other man waiting.]

Sooo. We got something.

[No fucking shit old man. The furry, muscled pup pauses enough to sit and lick his chops. He can smell Freddy from there. The same could probably be said.

Their good buddy Rey is on the big brick of a cellphone he totes.]

[orangetoughguy]

[Is it really a house? Is it really? It might seem fancy being two stories but the house itself is only so long. In all honesty it's not terrible...but it is no place for a big dog. Not that Freddy is aware that's the case just yet.]

What'd "we" get.

[He calls out in good humor knowing 'we' is often used in place for 'I (on a whim)'. Thump thump thump here comes the foxy wolf/wolfy fox kid. He smells like donuts because Freddy's been in the stash he somehow coerced the old man to get him to make up for that liquor store blow up.]

[whitetwoguns]

[Day one without Mister Dog was harder than the old man imagined. Not hard like it was integrating into their new homeland or realizing that they've had their whole life changed. But hard in a way that he had to stop purposely dropping a chip or two on the floor because no one would be there to eat it.

And he did make it a point to commend those detective skills from the one and only cop he trusts. That's Freddy.]

Hey.

[Said to that brilliant detective.]

What do you feel like eating?

[The old man is sprawled on the couch not quite watching the game show on the tube.]

[orangetoughguy]

[While the kid resented having to share scraps with the big old beast he has to admit seeing Larry drop a chip or two (sometimes in a way where he thinks Freddy won't notice) just makes him sad. Stupid dog. Stupid Rey Ray. Stupid everything. Sigh.]

I dunno. Mexican?

[He suggests from the matching chair where he's also sprawled out because frankly the old man is a big guy and there's not enough room on that couch for the two of them (when they're not doing a horizontal boogie).

Also his food suggestion is a joke, old man. Because they're in Mexico. Get it??]

[whitetwoguns]

C'mon.

[Mister Dog is stopping to sniff a fence post. Larry sees the cat before he does. This walk to Marisol's is not that far. Even though he's trying to hurry the dog along they easily could have been there by now.]

How do you think he keeps that much piss in him to go everywhere but not when we need to let him out?

[orangetoughguy]

He's trying to be a man about it.

[Freddy shakes his head, freckled fingers flapping with some small amount of aggravation. See the longer Mister Dog takes the harder it'll be for Mister White to let go. SIGH.]

[whitetwoguns]

The rent is coming up soon.

[And the sky is blue. The grass is green. Larry shoves aside some of the mess that's taken up space on their small excuse for a dining room table.]

I got a funny feeling.

[He walks away to the bedroom to get their savings from what is more reliable than a bank. The closet. Mr. Dog thinks something fun is going to happen and half follows.

Yo smaller person. You in on this game? Wag wag.]

[orangetoughguy]

I got a funny feeling we can pay it.

[Freddy says in a nonchalant manner than contradicts the way his brow furrows as he sort of leans waaaay over to watch what Larry is doing without having to follow him. Yet.]

We're doing real well you know.

[He calls out to the old man as a reminder, as if he needs it.]