orangetoughguy | log post II

No. But something about you, I can't say no to. There's about one other thing I can think of that makes it go down like that. [Before anyone thinks of something unsavory he'll answer with] Tacos.

[The hard part is over--and literally separating is damn hard right now. It's the last thing the old man wants to do. This man fits him like a glove.]

You mean about the noise? I think they'd be hollering cuz they're not involved, cuz it's over already.

[He'll flop close to that sprawled body. The better to dot his skin with a few presses of his mouth like they're freckles.]

Tacos. [Good save, Dimick. Freddy snorts anyway then shakes his head.] I'm not hungry, I'm kinda full.

[And in need of a shower shit they didn't hit the bath after coming from a sweaty game of catch either. These sheets will need to be washed. Later though, like this weekend. If only Larry could have seen Freddy's place in all its clutter. He would have liked to show him his music set up, no one appreciates a good record anymore except music aficionados and old dudes. Guess which one Larry fits.]

It's a private party anyway, except for that guy.

[He waves a hand at the alien. Ooh, those kisses are nice. Freddy reaches up to run his fingers through Larry's hair.] Thanks, Larry.

Still?

[Paw pats at his back end, it's a pat not a blow.]

I wouldn't wanna step out again anyways.

[Laying here is where it's at. A year ago he put down a month's rent for a place on Joe's turf. Nothing fancy, all he had was a few suitcases. That's the lot of a rambling man.]

Anytime, baby.

[Closer now to meet his mouth. That metallic faced man keeps on scowling. What the poor man don't know can't hurt him.]

Yeah, still.

[He repeats with a mild dose of sarcasm for the pat to his reddened rear. Fff. Oh but he'll roll onto his side and meet that mouth halfway, kissing once, twice.]

Whenever we get back. [Not if, when. Maybe Freddy Newendyke dreams too big.] I'm gettin' you a Dodgers cap and you're gonna wear it.

[How come he tastes so good? Makes a grown man cry. The old man pulls back to look at the kid skeptically.]

How come? It was only one win. That's all. Fluke. Baseball is full of em.

[That's not a no Freddy.]

[Strrrreeeetch. He bridges his fingers behind his head and lays staring up at the ceiling now, looking a little smug. Somehow they're not even on the right end of his bed either, the pillows are where their feet are oops.]

Do I gotta beat you at Dodger Stadium too?

I'll wear a Dodger hat when they go up against the Brewers and win. Then you gotta wear mine.

[Unless the old man plops it on the kid's head again. Larry is sure to clear away the lube and find a spot that's not too dirty to also lay.]

And we'll both place a bet because they'll be money coming in from either end.

[And he'll grab a pillow too.]

Okay I'll take that bet.

[He sits up enough to hold his hand out to shake on it while Larry does whatever it is he's doing. Always the one to get the bed ready for actual sleeping, this man. This kid could sleep anywhere, on a bed, on the floor, on a couch, in a backseat, at a desk, under a car (true story), but his favorite place is admittedly right next to a bear these days.

Can things really return to normal like that once they get back to LA?]

[Oops. He was all wrapped up in the pillows. Now he'll shake that hand, a good solid one. He'll maintain that hold to pull the kid down to rest against the pillow too.]

Thanks, kid.

[For the year. For this moment. Larry has to believe that there's going to be more to this. It's the fuel that keeps this engine rolling.]

[Oof. Okay he has to admit (again) that pillow is pretty comfortable. Freddy shifts here and there to get more snug against Larry, sheets pulled up to his waist. Fucking surreal, living here, being with him...like a good comic book or a Rush album that keeps him company when he's got no one else.]

Don't sweat it, old man.

[Freddy's been waiting all night. The dinner they were going to have together (tacos) he had to eat alone. The movie they could have watched together (Rambo) he's watching with a toucan. The buzzard's ten for ten so far in catching his grapes, who knew such a huge bill could be so quick.]

You're really on the ball, buddy.

[Unlike some people who aren't around. He can't be mad at Larry, not completely, showing up or even calling him would be too obvious. But he also knows the old man likes to show a lady a good time so he wouldn't be so callous as to bail out only a half hour into the venture. What are those strippers doing, he wonders, would any of them be bold enough to give the old man a lap dance? Girls at mens clubs do it for lady patrons all the time. Just thinking about it makes Freddy huff. He tosses another grape at Sam who catches it in midair without a hitch.]

Think you can fit a phone in there? [When was the last time he got a message from Larry from the club? Hmph.]

[The network device has been in the old man's hand for a majority of the evening. To check the time and give what updates he can. Being at this kind of a bar it makes him anxious. All this time he's been able to fill out and dip into more confident territories with Freddy, as bold as it's been it's been a very private exploration.

Another message is in order. PING!]

Should be leaving soon.

[Oh look, a message from that one guy. Freddy gives it a look before replying. PING!]

OK.

[Got anything to say Sam? He looks over at the bird. Yeah didn't think so fff.]

[Okay sure doesn't feel like it's okay. He didn't even type out the whole damn word. Larry lights himself up another cigarette and thinks over whether or not to respond. ...This might be a bigger deal than he hoped it would be. Woah, cowboy. How can you expect it to be nothing much though. What if the kid wanted to go?

Huff of a sigh. PING!]

Want me to pick up anything on the way?

[He's thinking food or smokes. Maybe booze but in the context it might not be a good idea to send...which is something he considers after the message goes out.]

[Pick up anything on the way he says.]

No. I ate.

[E-e-e-ee-e-e-e. The toucan hops to sit on the kid's shoulder and stare down at the device like he can stare at Larry through it.]

[That may as well just be no. They say you can't tell shit from these network devices well, the old man is getting some kind of a feeling. Maybe it's because it's far more clipped than Freddy's standard way of communicating.

Should he type sorry? Nah. Wait now. Nothin' is more off putting than an apology over the phone or in a letter. He'll be there soon.

The network device stays at hand anyway. Homeward bound!]

[What, no reply? That's almost as bad as an apology in this kid's mind but maybe he's just overreacting. Yeah Newendyke, have you considered that? After all you're not exactly Joe Public around here, can you blame Larry for going out on his own? They go out on their own sometimes, nothing doing. Right.

The toucan hops to the kid's other side to continue watching the movie. Watching and learning, this bird.]

[No reply for now. They say their goodbyes and pleasantries. The old man then sends out the next message. PING!]

Be there in about ten.

[He shouldn't feel bad about it. Freddy goes out places, sees people. Hell, he still sees that dick now and then doesn't he? It's nothing and nothing. Except the old man's damn sure that they don't go to any nudie bars. Another cigarette now.]

[While that dick's never taken him to a nudie bar Freddy can't say that dick's never invited him to one. Sure a cabaret of Indonesian exoticism in the tradition of Mata Hari isn't the typical nudie bar...it's still a nudie bar. He never told Larry that did he?]

OK.

[Nevertheless the kid is home and waiting. Huff huff. Come on Newendyke don't get mad just because you're not as public as you'd like to be. That's the problem ain't it?]

[Why no, no he didn't hear about that. In his head it'd still be some kind of an illicit invite. One that sure isn't Vegas grade entertainment like they saw but in the same league.

Keys jingle as he unlocks the door. The old man wore a suit, a work standard nothing special at all. It doesn't surprise him that the kid is there, the TV is on and the bird is watching.]

Hey.

Hey.

[Freddy waves from the couch but he keeps his caramel greens glued to the screen. It's the buzzard who turns his beaky face at Lawrence Dimick and croaks. Surprise, the bird can mimic machine gun fire. Er-r-rr-re-r-er. The things you learn from Rambo.]

[Woah. Wait. Hey. He wanted to watch Rambo. Well, Freddy wanted to watch it too right? And the old man had plans. ....Yep.]

Hey to you too Sam.

[Since he's the most talkative. Larry takes off his blazer and puts it over his arm.]

How far in are you?

[The movie that is. He's coming around to join the beaky duo.]

It's almost done but you can start it over when we're through.

['We' being the boy and the bird.]

Ain't you tired? Worn out? Broke?

Would you catch it again?

[With this motherfucker right beside you? Larry puts his feet up and loosens his tie. That's a weird line of questioning, kid.]

I'm a little tired from the whole day. Not worn out and certainly not broke.

So what you didn't have fun? Not up to your standards? Tell me all about it.

[Freddy turns in his seat to face Larry next to him. He's on all fours now but it looks nothing like what he did the other night. He may or may not maul him right then and there. Who knows. These green eyes aren't telling. The toucan's giving him a beady look too.]

log post II

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