orangetoughguy | log post II

[The old man doesn't believe it's over for a moment.]

Motherfuckers can't take a hint.

[Left. Right. Above.]

Drive into the lobby. We pay good money for rent.

[A whoosh of wings and Larry opens fire behind him. It's a nick to one of those steely wings which make it take a dive about ready to crash before recovering. Click. Fuck. Larry opts to grab his other gun rather than reloading. It takes too long, they've got vital seconds.]

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

[The lobby? Really? What if they get evicted for it? Freddy's still thinking about it which is why that divebomb takes him by surprise.]

Holy shit! [Inside the lobby it is.] Alright here we go.

[Brrrrrrrm brrrrrrmmmm. He takes that motorcycle straight into the wide glossy open place, tracking grime along the marble floor. Do they get looks? Yep, but nothing as terrified as the way people look at the fuckers who stop short of coming through the doors too. Apparently they're like vampires, won't come in uninvited. Fuck anyone who feels neighborly with the beasts.]

[Who gives a fuck about management at the apartment when their lives could end because of ugly bird women?]

Home, sweet, motherfucking home.

[Are they parked? Once still, Larry dismounts, helmet off. And all of those conceptions of diminished masculinity because of where he chose to sit are gone entirely. He's eying those monsters on the outside.

Heavy sigh and he looks to the fearless motorcyclist.]

[When he does put the thing in park and on the kickstand, next Freddy tips his visor up because green eyes peering out from the black looks badass. One look at current staff on hand and he tosses a coin their way. See, he can tip too, especially for things that matter like his motorcycle.]

I wanna see her in one piece tomorrow morning.

[He explains, nothing more. Hell if they want to put it in an office they can, he doesn't care, as long as the motorcycle stays intact.]

What a pain in the ass. [The fearless cyclist shakes his head at the doors. Keys in tow he dismounts, the helmet stays on because again...denim and leathers, come on. It looks supercool.]

[A suit with a big ol' helmet head doesn't look as cool as leather and denim by a long shot. Those brown eyes are watching. Since the kid is taking care of the bike he can head to the elevator.]

Come on, stunt man. [Or maybe Mike on the Bike. Whatever. Since he's thinking about gunfire, he reloads. It's an easy, fluid action.]

[Only when they're actually in the elevator does he take his helmet off. Yep. Green eyes are watching too.]

You ever wonder why nobody around here acts how they would if you walked into Union Station like that?

[Reloading his guns oh so fluidly with his blazer kind of flapping smoothly in motion.]

[He shrugs and pulls out his Chesterfields.]

My guess is that they seen it all. Though, I think they'd take me seriously if they were the ones that gave me a reason to go at em.

[Mr. Orange, looking too damn slick.]

You all in one piece?

[Make no mistake, he'll check himself.]

Fair enough.

[Freddy concedes to that. It's believable Larry, Lawrence Dimick, Mr. Joe Armed Robbery, could make anyone shit himself with two barrels....or just a look. As for himself, the kid gives himself a brief once over except he can't see his own back so much for that.]

I think so. How about you? [Now green eyes are roaming over the old man's suited form.]

[These two guns don't flinch to kill man or beast or man beast especially if he is working with his associate Mr. Orange, Freddy, Officer Newendyke.]

Nothin' doin'. We could do it again.

[Sarcasm. Sheer sarcasm. He inspects Freddy's back with one hand, tapping ash off with another.]

[He lets the big old bear inspect him because what's new? Larry knows his body inside and out anyway. Literally.]

You mean go for a drive? Like a real one?

[Leave it to Freddy to spin sarcasm into a genuine request. Suggestion. ...Request.]

[No bruises. No cuts. No tender places. Satisfied he plants a kiss at his cheek before another inhale.]

For you? Sure. Where do you wanna go?

[Ding! This is their floor.]

[....That was sweet. And Larry knows how Freddy considers sweet to be a guilty pleasure...unless it's in the form of edible things.]

I dunno. I could think of a lotta places. I mean, back home.

[Freddy gives a one-shouldered shrug, unsure of how to salvage the implication he just made, what with the city supposedly being 'open' now. Oh right, their floor. He waits for Larry to step off first.]

[A psycho brush with death, there needs to be more sweet things about now.]

Home?

[The light bulb goes on. He hasn't put too much stalk in any of that 'go home' talk. Maybe because deep down he hasn't been willing to accept what that would mean at least it was something to evade when they weren't talking about it. The old man puts his hand up to hold the door even though he's standing on the other side.]

You wanna head back to LA?

[He steps in and shuts the door behind him, locking it up too.]

I dunno, I mean with those things out there you [Generally speaking.] could die trying, then you're stuck for good. That's what they say anyway, you die here you're stuck for life. Or unlife, whatever.

[Not that this answers Larry's question at all.]

[The facts are ones that he's heard before. Everyone says that from the moment you get here, you die you stuck. You're here you're stuck. His cigarette is still burning.]

Kid. [A paw grips his shoulder the better to shift a bit to face him.] Freddy, do you want to go home?

[They always mean to talk about this and it never comes to pass. It looks like it's not going to wait.]

[He hangs his helmet where a coat would normally go then out comes a cigarette but before Freddy can light it he's being turned to face Larry. Shit, Lawrence Dimick, the goddamn felon.]

I kinda miss it, I miss the way things are there, hell I even miss the traffic. A little.

[Still not a yes or no though. Shit is this what it'd be like if they'd made a run for the border after all? Somewhere in sunny Mexico or hell Brazil?]

[This man that he loves so fucking much is a cop. That hasn't changed, Larry tells himself, that hasn't changed at all.]

If you want something, you have to tell me. We gotta talk about this. I'm not hung up on stayin' here for always. [Brown eyes drop to his cigarette. His own is burning closer to the filter. Has this time spent in this apartment playing games, drinking at bars and fucking like rabbits...has it come to an end?]

We'd need to pack. Destroy anything incriminating. [He gestures around them. There'll be plenty to stay. The pin-ups all can't go. Neither can all of the good suits. Larry sighs and rubs his chin.]

[He takes the time while Larry's talking to finally light his own cigarette (and briefly avoid eye contact). One deep pull and then he's looking at the other man again.]

I haven't figured out if it's a good idea or not. I mean leaving. [Not being together, whether or not that was a good idea to begin with, the kid doesn't regret it.] You saw what's out there, we could get killed.

[The quiet makes the seconds stretch. It could be the old man's imagination. He seeks eye contact with Freddy eagerly.]

I know. It's gonna be dangerous when we get where we're going too. There's more than that to consider. [Where will they go? What will they do? Without his attention, Larry's cigarette has burnt out. He's lost the flavor for it.] Let's sleep on it. Then we'll form a plan together.

[Though with this much to consider sleep isn't gonna come too easy. As an afterthought, he shrugs off his blazer and loosens his tie.]

I know, Larry.

[He wets his lips, maintaining eye contact again. Wait what. Form a plan? Now Larry is getting too far ahead for Freddy. His brow furrows. It's not that they have to talk about it now but...]

I don't know if I wanna form a plan. [Yet.] Do you?

[Why is he looking like that? This tie slips loose all the way. His thoughts and intentions don't feel as fluid.]

At least an escape plan, you know.

[As for what they want to do with the rest of their lives? This shit is crazy. It could really happen, they could fuck off to Mexico or Timbuktu.]

What'll stay, what'll go.

[He clears his throat.]

The bottom line is that I don't want to go solo.

[Well that part Freddy knows for sure, whether they stay or go:] You're not gonna go solo. Neither am I.

[He shakes his head. Hell he'd include Pink too but only to get back to California. Then the weasel is on his own. Shit why is he even thinking about this? You're a cop, Newendyke.]

If you don't wanna plan, what do you want to do?

[Because hearing that they're going together is start to make Larry feel more certain of what'll be ahead of them. There'll keeping one eye over their shoulder and the other straight ahead from here on out.

A cop and a crook are driving together on a highway... it sounds like the beginning of a joke.]

[God he can't handle that question. Freddy shakes his head, taking another deep pull, before turning those green near forlorn eyes at Larry. He may be a cop which puts him at an 'advantage' in most situations, but he's still wandering in different kinds of ways.]

What do you wanna do?

[This grown man before him is looking like a lost kid.]

I'd want us to have a day to prepare. Then get on out of here in the early mornin'. We'll take a coastal route.

[His fingers comb through Freddy's hair.]

I still got dollars. As for scrounging up more we could pawn shit.

[Call the old man crazy, but some of it is a fantasy of his. A hard life on the road but hard loving anyway.]

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