orangetoughguy | logging iv

I don't know how to play high stakes.

[Freddy insists with much larger foxy eyes now, ears up, everything erect--er...alert. As if there's a difference in the way you play a game depending on the stakes. Actually there is and that's why the kid thinks this is a job for the old man.]

Same game. Just gotta adjust the approach. ...I'll show you how to do it sometime.

[He is putting all the money together now so it doesn't look like he's a banker or anything.]

So I'm thinking, a forth of the funds for the bull. A half is for the poker game. We'll have something left just in case.

[There's a growing pit in his stomach that he's trying to ignore. This is all they have, after all.]

Good idea.

[And a freckled hand sticks out, palm up, expectant. Yes, Dimmy, he's expecting to be in charge of the 'something left'....no offense or comment on your self control or anything. It just seems like a smart idea, right??]

[For a glimmer of a moment he remembers money passing hands. Promises of being the one to watch it, of nagging doubt that ended up to be for good reason. Except not now. Actually the opposite. He wants to pocket it all. No, you old shit. You can trust Freddy.

That vital 'something left' goes to freckled hands.]

Bull fight first.

[The old man puts it into his breast pocket. There are plenty of thieves out and about that are not bears.]

I got the plan, my man.

[Freddy yaps in his super cool slick manner, money pocketed with ease and a wink. Heh, that's a good bear.]

[Deep breath in.]

The easy part will be picking the prize winner. Then all we gotta do is relax and collect the winnings.

[That's it. Heh. Larry stands up and rolls his shoulders. They're sore.]

C'mon, pal. Listen up for the stats.

[He won't bother to extend his direction to say 'avoid picking one because the name is cool.']

Too bad none of 'em's Red Tornado.

[A reference surely lost on Larry Dimick but yes he's listening. And no, Freddy's not going to pick an animal solely by how cool it sounds. In fact his idea is to pick the animal Larry thinks is going to win.]

[Hours really fly by when you're indoors. By the time the old man emerges, the whole tourney and gaming time is over. Men emerge from the room. The business men in their three piece suits with their assistants continue business as usual. Cagey, wealthy types who want to go right back to the sports car and the condo not that far behind. Oh and Lawrence Dimick who is still sipping a cocktail. He's smiling, strolling on out and looking for his kid.

There's a gleam of a new wrist watch on his wrist. The other has a gold bracelet. Does this look like a loser, Newendyke?]

[Freddy's managed to cover all the grounds of the resort in the time it took for Larry to get that dough with the perk of a watch and a bracelet, damn. During the last fifteen minutes of the game though he chose to stick by pretty closely, just in case. Look at him almost napping on a plush couch with staff so eager to do away with him if it wasn't for the chip in his pocket proving he's a patron. Hah. Better wake him up, Dimmy.

The joke's on him though, the kid's not really asleep. He's just in eyes-shut-patrol-car-powernap mode.]

[Rather convincing act, at least until he stand over him. Larry nudges his knee against Freddy's side.]

Hey. Rise and shine.

[The high he is riding right now makes him more foolhardy. The old man dips his fingertips into his glass to flick the droplets onto that freckled mug if he needs more incentive to 'wake'.]

[Nudge or no nudge, Freddy's about to call victory on his half-sleepy act but the droplets of liquor throw him off. Thhbhthtb. Wait. He gets a taste of it on his lip. Okay not so bad. Caramel green eyes remain half-lidded.]

You look perky. [Yeah. Perky. He said it. What of it, Dimmy?] How fast do we have to get out of here before someone wants to take a swing at you?

[Have a taste of victory, Freddy. It tastes like coconut.]

Uh.

[Glance behind him. Glance in front of him.]

Pretty soon to be safe. I wanna finish my drink first.

[Perky he says. Larry endures. Sip, sip before he crouches beside the other man. He leans in and the alcohol on his breath is no doubt more prominent as he whispers.]

We're good now, baby.

You must be feeling pretty confident to finish that off in front of all these people you just cleaned out.

[That's what happened isn't it? Sounds like it. Looks like it. Must be it. Again with the licking of his lips but it's only to polish off the coconut and rum.]

I do. I am.

[Eyes are fixed on him. He's not encouraging them to dash right away. Is he?]

Have some. It's well made.

[If only to watch him enjoy it, help the drink drain faster. Half full and all full of optimism.]

[How long has it been since his gut wound? How long has it been since they've been on the run? It feels like weeks. Is it two? Three? One? Either way the kid's belly has been healing well. Maybe he managed to take a trace of city magic back with him. All that considered he looks at the drink, looks at Lawrence Dimick, back at the drink, then back at Dimmy as he takes the glass for a sip. Caramel green eyes stay focused on those warm brown ones framed by crows feet.]

[He wants to say it's been three. Maybe closer to two. The days are feeling more separate then they used to be. And even though there hasn't been one past he hasn't checked over their shoulder, there is a great distance between those nights he'd wake to check on the man in the same room.

What's a sip? He hands the glass over and watches just as intently. The way he holds it. The way his lips touch the glass and where.]

Not too much now. Might to right straight to your head.

[The way it did to him. But this is his third on a not very full stomach. Leaner living from a more slim wallet has its results. Tonight they're gonna eat like kings.]

My head's not what I'm worried about.

[Freddy remarks after giving his lips another lick. Heh. Sorry Dimmy, you're not getting your glass back.]

So what now?

[He asks, waiting for Larry's orders. He won the pot, he calls the shots. For tonight anyway.]

No?

[Worried about them then? Dimmy smiles and rubs is fingertips up against his face. They still smell like cigars. Every poker gathering has a cigar smoker. Here it is that real fine Cuban sort. No exporting fees when it's closer. He crosses his arms.]

Now you and me we get to another location. Celebrate and live a little.

[He puts his hand out, believing there'll be a drink back in it.]

You up for that? A good fucking meal. A softer bed to sleep on.

[Is he speaking your language yet, kid? Brown eyes try not to hyper focus on the details of how Freddy swallows after each tilt of the glass to his lips.]

[That big nose takes a sniff, inhaling the aroma on Larry's thick fingers. Smells good. Then when that paw's outstretched Freddy puts his hand in it to get back up on his feet. Sip of the drink. It's fruity sissy shit but damn does it taste so good.]

I am totally up for that. I'm hungry.

[And for all the super cool dude he exudes the kid really could do with not roughing it on a shitty motel mattress or the backseat of the car for a night. Another compliment:]

You did good, my man.

[Ordering fruity sissy shit is part of the ploy. Gets everyone else at the table comfortable, thinking that he's gonna topple like a domino. The touch of his hand comes so easy, Larry gets him right on up to his feet.]

Just wait and see how good, okay?

[Because he hasn't taken out each and every bill from his pockets, or shown him the two rings he's got shoved into his pockets with those bills.]

But thanks.

[For cooperating, for being a partner and not a cop. Heading toward the exit Larry still keeps his eyes sharp.]

This is so good.

[Freddy says around a mouth full of fish and lobster and some other stuff that's so delicious he could cry. They haven't had real food in so long anything is good right now so actual culinary delights are a miracle. Not that Freddy Newendyke is much to measure against. Also they're apparently in a hot tub so he must be eating the leftovers they had to take back to their nice hotel room with a real shower and a real bed.]

You hit the jackpot, man.

[He says to Larry in a voice full of pleasure and satisfaction.]

[Fuck yeah, leftovers! The portions were tremendous. They had to take some along. Larry scarfed it all and is very content being out of clothes that would constrict his stomach. He did buy beer. There's enough to share.]

Failure wasn't an option, buddy boy.

[Especially when the option was dollar burgers and another night in the back seat.]

Failure always happens in gambling.

[He reminds the old man oh so thoughtfully before taking a sip of his beer and sinking a little lower into the water to make an 'ahhhhhhhh' sound.]

You know you're not supposed to drink in the hot tub? Something about blood pressure and falling asleep.

You mean moral failure?

[Snort. He waves off the question.]

So far I don't see any failure. We got a healthy sum to start out.

[That they have to enjoy! The old man lifts an eyebrow he settles too but not before taking another drink of delicious beer.]

I never heard that before. You better watch me, okay? I'll watch you.

I'm just saying.

[Freddy insists, freckled hands up now in a 'calm down, beast' gesture. Heh.]

Sure, I can do that. Sounds easy.

[Not to imply Lawrence Dimick is easy or anything of the sort. Ahem.]

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