orangetoughguy | logging iv

I don't have to believe you because I'm gonna make it happen when it happens.

[Freddy insists, satisfied with his intuition. He just knew the old man was setting himself up for another opportunity. Years after they met Freddy's accepted that Lawrence Dimick is an opportunist. Freddy Newendyke is too, just lawfully so.]

Next time it'll be on your terms.

[There you go. Hands spread like he's presenting the fact to the air.]

We didn't talk about anything that important. The football or soccer team that's local may as well be tripping over their own balls. The weather's good. Dumb shit. He asked where you were, I said you were taking up some time on your own.

[That's better. His fox hide is soothed by the very motion (almost like a bear's surrender).]

Did you tell him why? Make something up? He can't go on thinking I'm just a... ["Piece of ass." is what Freddy wants to say.] A tool or something. We don't split even when we're split up.

[....Right?]

[He doesn't speak immediately. Drinking is the physical reason. The other is wondering when he was okay with rolling over. The things you do for peace. And peace is pretty important, Dimmy. The two of you are the biggest asset.]

I told him because he asked.

[Shrug.]

I mean, he didn't ask if you hop on my dick.

[Right now the answer would be no anyway.]

[That's the power of a fox one supposes. Who knew a little(r) guy like Freddy could make a big(ger) guy like Larry roll over.]

Right.....okay.

[Freddy begrudgingly accepts the answer and sips.] We're in this together, okay? No long ranger solo crap.

It was one lunch.

[Feeble protest? Maybe. But at least it isn't showing the full force of how much it rubs him wrong to hear it.]

I'm not cutting it out on my own, understand?

[Aw man, is this beer over already?]

Is there gonna be a second lunch?

[One with Freddy this time. He asks only because he takes Ray Rey for the type to propose one and Larry for the type not to turn down an opportunity from which they could benefit.]

'Let's do this again sometime' isn't binding.

[Casual, easy.]

You want a second lunch, the'll be a second lunch. And you're gonna be right there. This mean you want me at the next appointment?

Sure. I'll be there.

[Wait wat.]

No. I don't need you at the next appointment. He's a doctor, he's a gangster. There's a difference.

[He says for the second time throughout this conversation. Make no mistake, he knows what you're getting at, old man.]

Do you wanna be there? Get your prostate looked at while we're at it?

A big difference, sure. But he's small time gangster or not. There're are bigger fish than him, badder ones.

[Did they even discuss that fact? Larry pushes off from the counter top to toss empty beer container. He doesn't appreciate Freddy's joke.]

No.

[Clipped, sour. Grumble, grumble.]

I'm a cop. [Was a cop.] I'm aware of that.

[Freddy says with regards to there being worse than El Rey. True, they could have done better or far far worse. Ah but that clipped sour grumbling piques a fox's curiosity. His attention hyperfocuses on the old man's tone.]

What? What's wrong.

[The kid dares to ask.]

[The detective instinct or cop sense will never quit. It didn't when he was a mechanic. Now that they're back in their own neck of existence with very real threats around them it is a part of life. Knowing it as well as he does, it rubs wrong.

Everything is rubbing wrong.]

On second thought might not be a bad idea. I'd get something out of it.

[To the fridge he goes for one more beer.]

[What did you say, old man, what did you say.]

What's that supposed to mean.

[Freddy doesn't ask but demands...around the last bite of his sandwich. Practically inhaled the stuff.]

[Demanding, he might be. He is gonna wait until the old man has his hand wrapped around a cold one and popping the top.]

You're the one who thinks I should have someone else on my ass.

Huh? It's a doctor not a dominatrix.

[Freddy clarifies as if Larry doesn't already know. Getting smart are we, old man?]

Maybe so. You got my well being in mind.

[Chug. Chug. Refreshing as it is, sure don't hit the spot.]

Wanted to go.

[Except maybe being without him for a little bit again might be a good idea.]

What're you trying to say?

[Freddy flat out demands again, freckled hand free to flap now that it's not handling a sandwich.]

We're not fucking. Okay.

[Plunk goes drink to rest on the counter top.]

You want more space. When I give you space I'm still fucking up.

[Larry leans back on the same counter top and crosses his arms.]

.....

[His mouth hangs open. That's not what this is about!]

.....

[Hands flap around. Oh yeah he put his beer down so no messes here, Dimmy.]

You think I want space because I don't wanna fuck around?? [But also! Freddy points at Larry.] And you know damn well you shouldn't have gone to see him without me.

I think that you want space additionally to not wanting to fuck around. That's why you didn't want me going with you to the appointment to stat with.

[Bristling but not budging he goes on.]

I know what I'm doing, okay? I didn't specifically head out or make plans behind your back. Jesus fucking Christ. I'm trying to get us ahead.

Yeah you're trying to get us ahead. We're supposed to be working on that together.

[Pointing resumes but then Freddy's backtracking to the first thing Larry said. More flapping begins. Again.]

In case you forgot I didn't exactly see this as my life at age thirty. [Twenty-nine until...fuck this world hopping has messed with his sense of time.] I can't think about fucking around! You think I don't want to?!

Two birds! One stone! I told you, nothing happened. And if something big did start to come on up, I'd say I need a day to think it over and haul you in. I told you, I know what I'm doing. This is for us. What the fuck am I to get out of it solo?

[Which he isn't, which they're not. But he sure feels like he's standing on his own at odds with the partner. Shit. Flapping this way and that.]

I dunno! You haven't given me the right chance! I'm not gonna fucking force you. If you did or didn't I wanna think you'd fucking talk to me, asshole.

[Lawrence Dimick starts name calling. Mighty big from a guy that's certainly not twenty something.]

I don't want you pulling cowboy shit because I'm on the mend. I'm not a fucking invalid.

[Oh oh oh. He points a finger at Larry.]

Don't you call me an asshole! [Doesn't that sound familiar. Ahem.] You're an asshole for straight up thinking I don't wanna fuck you anymore!

[There it is. A provocative push to the old man's chest.]

[There's no ready defense for that. Some of his thought was to keep Freddy away from the heat. Well, there isn't any for the time, if there was it'd sure allow the guy still healing to keep his progress. Besides, there are other points of discussion that hold more interest.

At the push his arms come unfolded and he steps forward.]

What am I supposed to think! You won't let me touch you!

Don't be fucking retarded you've put your hands on me a dozen times since we peeled out on this fucking adventure!

[Don't expect the kid to back down just because the old man's stepping up on him. In fact Freddy's posture casually shifts into something taller, kind of like a police officer who has no reason or fear to back down from a thug or a bully of a bear...who happens to have thick arms and a broad chest....]

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