orangetoughguy | logging iv

[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.]

[She's busty like he likes them. And her rear matches. And soft, hands go onto the old man's shoulders, smoothing over the cheap plain tee. The snug fit and thin fabric make it pretty close to flesh contact. Her choice of a tight blue dress really shows off her assets contrasting with her brown skin.]

I can make you feel better. Get a quiet room. You and me.

[Larry swallows thickly. And it's not his drink. He turns in his seat to face the young...lady, meaning to reject her like a person. She takes him by both hands and puts one at her neck and the other at her waist.

He knows better then to fall for this. In fact he should have seen it coming. She smells so good. And road and vigilance is wearing on him far more than he thought.]

No, honey... Thanks, really.

[Brown eyes look into hers and as his gaze drops it lingers on her chest then to the bar as he tries to turn away. It'd be nice. It really would...

His man is right there with him. C'mon Dimmy. Don't be a brainless fuck.]

[Ignore it, Newendyke, you've been through so much already this is nothing. Nothing at all. He's so beat he probably can't even get it up. She's fighting an uphill battle. Don't look don't look don't look.]

..........

[Fuck that bitch and fuck the whore too oh my god how can he fucking fall for that he knows it's an act she just wants his money but holy shit if she gets an idea of what Lawrence Dimick is packing then you'll never get her off him fuck this stupid earth!!]

..........

[Freddy Newendyke's poker face could be the stuff of legends.]

[She makes this pitying cooing noise. Something that makes a guy think of his mother or a nurse. Larry pulls away a paw from her waist and the other from her neck. Better to wrap it right around his drink. Any other time he would throw her money to make her go away. He can't. It's their money.]

Aw, papi. Let me.

[By now he can feel an invisible heat ray on him that is no doubt Freddy scrutiny. It's frying his insides. He's saying no. He's doing the right thing.]

Thanks but no thanks, sweetheart. I'm not game.

[Eyes lock to the game. Yeah. Like that's what is on his mind right now. Not soft hands. Not tits. Not ass. Or what its like to get lost in somebody's body to forget things. So fucking stupid.

She stands there and rubs his back. Hoping, hoping. No dice. A dramatic sigh. She looks to the shorter, smaller man beside the papi hunk. What the hell kind of a stare is that, chico?]

[Yeah you better burn, Dimmy, burn burn burn--what? Her face comes into focus like an even harsher buzzkill. If this was his boner at stake he'd have none by now. What are you looking at, lady?]

I'm going upstairs.

[Freddy says ever so casually as he pushes away from the bar, drink in hand. Yeah he's turning his back on them. Yeah he wants to leave Larry to his own devices. The son of a bitch better be upstairs in less time than it takes to have her rub one out for him.]

[Straight away she decides not to bother with the other one. Nose up and head turn. If it had been a few more years she would have even given him a hand to talk to.

Larry feels like he's got no time whatsoever to react. Freddy's up and gone. The lady, her smell and her offer are making their way across the room.

And he's left with the check. That's about right. He shakes his head and takes a few moments to drain his drink and pay for the coke and his coke with rum. Then yes, he heads on up stairs.

More than five minutes, less than ten minutes. He hopes the door isn't locked.]

[Of course it's not locked but make no mistake Freddy Newendyke is counting down the time. It's like second nature to him, you have to do that when you're a cop or trying to execute the proper chain of moves at just the right moment to beat a videogame. In that time the kid's taken to turning on the TV and...putting his drink down...and pacing left...then right. Then he considers flopping down on the bed...]

[What takes the longest is lighting up another smoke. The money has been going to gas, Larry's own smokes, food and medical bills. If he keeps this up, gas will be second in price. The outdoor hallway gives a view of the desert. The setting sun. A whole world out there he's got to remind himself of. The real world.

He turns his back to step into their hotel room. The door is unlocked. Behold! He's alone. Hair still sort of combed. Is there a way for a person to not look worked over? Larry doesn't bother trying to clean up any nicer. Why? Because that's a guilty man's behavior.]

Some shit, huh?

[As though it is something they both can agree on. He takes in the scene. TV on, Freddy almost in midstep.]

[QUICK ACT NATURAL.

Freddy flops onto the bed oh so supercool and ow no that made his side ache. Nothing horrible but ow. Ahem. The kid adjusts to sit up. His eyes stay glued to the TV.]

What is?

[Being naturalistic as hell is Freddy's super power, it's true. Larry smells the bullshit. He still has a third degree burn from laser vision.]

Getting propositioned right there.

[To recap what just happened. Larry sits on the other bed, facing the reclining man trying to gauge. Two beds. One room. No homo. That's the idea anyway.]

Y'saw.

[Because all the one bed rooms were taken for the very same reason that chica was trying to get up on his old man, right??]

I saw. [Freddy confirms with a casual one-shoulder shrug.] She didn't work hard.

[Tread carefully, Dimmy, there's an implication here.]

[Right. And also Larry's not sure of what the fuck to make of it all. A room is a room. Two adults. And Freddy's been needing uninterrupted rest.]

A no is a no.

[Which he said, not once but twice. A stink eye helped make her shove off. True. And maybe she caught a whiff of something less desirable on papi.]

Guess she figured someone'd be more readily accepting of her offer. Not me. You saw.

[He says again. A bear can step softly. But what's soft to a bear might not be two a swift, surefooted fox.]

If I didn't see you would've said yes.

[Freddy says in a most matter of fact nonchalant tone like it doesn't matter he's just sharing his observation totally nothing doing. (It's anything but right now).]

No, I wouldn't have.

[Nonchalant? What's that? That might even be a little loud. He's not sure what burns more, the fact that Freddy sniffs out his needs and doesn't get them or accusing him of having no respect.]

She got feely. I woulda caught on sooner just not today.

Give me a break her M.O. was clear as fuckin' day from the start. You should've known that, you moved us in here.

[This is only night number two.]

You don't have to get defensive. [This, coming from Freddy Newendyke.] I know what you're into. [The one half Freddy can't quite give, and even less in his current state.]

Do you even hear yourself?

[Multiple insult. Move in here? Freddy, he has better taste even in dumps! Larry was going to take off his shoes, now he's not so sure.]

We're not movin' in here for one. And for another, maybe if you weren't accusing me then I wouldn't be defensive. I told her no. That's it.

[Huff! But he's not done just yet.]

You think I'm gonna go for pussy just because all of a sudden?

[He's going to ignore the first comment so he can address the others, but first Freddy turns in his seat to point at Larry.]

You wanted to take what she was offering. You didn't, I got that, but you wanted it.

[It wouldn't be the first time Dimmy salivated over a pair of tits. What's so wrong about it now, Newendyke??]

Yeah. I did. But not with her. Not here. Not now. And certainly not with our fucking money.

[Usually he's trying to keep it more cool, talk more softly. Larry's on his feet in response.]

I came here knowing that I'm not fucking any one of these girls. Call it a fucking moment of weakness, okay? I got em. That a crime?

[What a terrible and ironic use of the word, Dimmy.]

I didn't say it was a crime...!

[Oh no hands are flapping. This is starting to get out of hand.]

You're acting like I did something wrong.

[Man, that accusing tone is contagious or something. Larry just stares at him. Waiting to hear. What will it be? Looking and thinking about a lady or killing cops and running away.]

.....

[Snort. He's got you there, Newendyke.]

...No I'm not...!

[Classy, real classy.]

[Two big paws spread, exasperated. He then combs back his hair off of his forehead.]

Then what? What, kid. Because something's not jiving.

[Sorry, Lawrence Dimick, the kid's about to utter the four words you absolutely hate to hear. A freckled hand flaps in a wave of dismissal.]

Just forget about it.

How can I forget it when I don't know what this is about? You know why I'm here in this room right now.

[Those four words are right under his skin like a sliver and festering right with I can't talk about it now.]

You know.

[Freddy narrows his eyes. How else does one perfect the art of denial without readily recognizing it in others too.]

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