orangetoughguy | log post II

[That joke doesn't get a laugh but it does get a smile out of Freddy.]

Shit look at us. [Me.] Going on a search mission for a fucking animal.

[Yeah you downplay it Newendyke, you downplay it until you don't feel guilty anymore. Too bad that's impossible. The tambourine in his free hand seems more ridiculous with every passing second yet it feels like it's just gonna get heavier and heavier. He nods to Larry.] Okay.

[Puff puff. Stressed smoker's puff.]

At least until he decides to come back.

[Another careful joke. He pats the kids back with a paw, not too hard and not too long. Boy does he feel like a sorry asshole. Can't remember important shit like closing a stupid door.

Sam has to be found. Today. It can't happen if he stands around and keeps comforting the damn kid. Okay, he's on his way to the car for real. True to his word he brings it around in record time. The radio is down and the door is unlocked. Freddy's passenger window is rolled down so that he can wave that tambourine out of it.]

If he can find his way back.

[Almost he wants to say if Sam can follow his nose but the kid's heart isn't in it. He's concerned with the bird's well-being, if he might fall into the wrong hands and it'll be Freddy's fault because he didn't do something about the diamonds to begin with. What if Sam gets attacked by a cat? A dog? What if he finds a dead bird? Why does this feel different from fulfilling a missing persons call? Freddy's gone out on calls to find kids swept up by a vengeful parent or a malicious stranger. He's also seen the results of being too late. This is just a fucking toucan. But like Larry said, it's his toucan, his ward, and he failed to do what was best for Sam.]

Thanks, Larry.

[The kid says only after he makes a silent climb into the car, tambourine arm hanging out but not rattling yet. You'll have to tell the old man too eventually, Newendyke. He wants to find the bird first.]

Instincts, kid.

[Those documentaries about swallows or messenger pigeons come to mind but don't slip out of his mouth. A toucan is not an ordinary bird. And it is ridiculous to fill the kids head with things that may not be right. They'll find him one way or the other. Larry's praying for a live, ornery bird noisy and ready for food. Then Freddy'll be okay. Worrying too much on the fate of any diamonds that need to come into being take a back seat to everything else.

Since the old man's driving when he's not changing gears he rests his hand close to the kid's. Fuck he feels so bad. Could it have been hard to open his mouth and say 'damn it's quiet' during the flick?]

You can look down that way. I'll keep an eye on the road and the opposite direction.

[The radio is off to make it easier to be alert.]

[Block after block of failure later the kid's not quite approaching his wit's end but he's starting to feel more like a stupid bastard.]

Shit we've gone by my work, your work, places we've eaten, where else is there to go?

[The zoo? The woods? Freddy huffs, frustrated, as they pass an upscale florist with colorful lights advertising a mother's day last minute special. Colorful lights. Oh fuck there's a place that comes to mind. Tambourine tucked back in the car he looks at Larry while getting his portable network device thing (they call it a 'smartphone') out.] I'm gonna make a call.

[Lesson learned, never say don't get mad.]

[Normally the City seems pretty small and easy to navigate within a few hours. Now that Sam's gone and could be anywhere it's ballooned. Still no sign of the bird. There are lots of other birds around though. What are the chances? The old man is on his second cigarette.]

Back track?

[His words are getting more and more scarce. Larry's losing himself in thought. What will this mean if the bird never comes back? Will this end up to be a bigger issue? All the kid wanted was a pet. The old man could have stood to be more respectful of that.]

Call who?

[The car pulls over to the shoulder. They may be could be changing direction. May as well figure out where they're going first. Larry rolls the window down more to avoid filling the car with smoke.]

Pet shops?

[There's an idea. If they call around and see if anyone's trying to pawn a bird then they'd be the first to know.]

[A bigger issue sure, once he tells Larry why the bird was really shitting diamonds. How did this become such a fucking thing? To make mattes worse Larry's asking who. Yeah, who. Green eyes glance over briefly before he concentrates on the phone again. It's ringing. The old man will know once that guy picks up...except he's not picking up. Shit. No he's not gonna leave a voicemail. This is too urgent.]

No. [Ahem.] Pet shops are closin' soon. [Ain't open as late as retail even though the basic premise is to retail a living creature.] He doesn't like'em, too much noise.

[Freddy says that last part with a little smile just to show he hasn't lost all hope yet. There's just some kind of irony in a big-billed bird known for making funny noises not liking the noises of a pet shop. Hey he hasn't answered that 'Call who?' question has he?] Turn left over there. We're goin' residential.

[See though he doesn't know a blessed thing about the truth of things. All he sees is a very sad hound dog next to him. Right now he's too into the mission to appreciate that joke for very long.]

I mean if someone found him. You know?

[Okay. Sounds like he doesn't. The old man will handle that himself tomorrow then. It would be better that way. And he won't worry about having to play good cop bad cop. Oh yeah, if there's even a whiff of a lead, Mr. White is going to do it his way.]

Got it.

[Car back into gear and rolling as per Freddy's instructions.]

[Freddy doesn't want to think about a stranger finding Sam because that could mean they might use him, hurt him, pawn him, or be so fucking good to him but not want to give the bird back. Maybe that's what you deserve though, Newendyke. With a shake of his head he concentrates on giving directions. They've been in this city for how long now? Almost a fuckin' year. Orange knows the blocks like it's his own division. Time passes until they're moving towards a deceptively modest set of not too tall and very close together buildings. It's like a mini Haight-Ashbury or European borough.]

Pull over here, at the alley with the vines.

[And then, before the car can even roll to a stop, Freddy turns to look Larry straight in the eye.] This is about the bird, okay? [So don't get mad.] Don't throw any of that 'therapist fuckhead' shit around, I want Sam back in one piece.

[A few more streets, he's losing track of how many signals this wan and that way. Oops. The kid wasn't kidding when he said residential.]

Okay. Gimme two seconds.

[Or moments. Though he does it as fast and as smooth as he can manage. This is a lead isn't it. Could be one step closer to all of this being over.]

Of course it's about the bird. [Eye contact so soon. It about takes his breath away for a ton of separate reasons.] Why would I [no doubt Freddy can see the wheels turning. The pieces are falling together.] Why would he have your bird?

Edited 2011-05-05 08:05 (UTC)

Cause he's been up there. Sam coulda flown out to places he knows.

[Freddy says like one, duh, and two, please don't get mad.]

Oh.

[Sam and Freddy at that jerks place. Come on, old man. Don't be surprised. The dick is the kid's friend. Friends show off their cool things. Already the situation is pretty fucking bad without adding to it with this territorial bear business. Knock it off.

Behind his shades he can seethe quietly. Maybe it'll be mistaken for more guilt.]

Where to now?

[As far as directions go. ]

[But Larry's dick is his bestest friend of all, besides Larry himself of course. Come on, he's a toucan, what harm is there in showing the bird off to someone who's actually been to Brazil but couldn't bring a toucan back with him? Eat that cushy bourgeois intellectual. Sensing the tension though (he's become pretty fluent in the language of Lawrence Dimick's body) Freddy gives a wave of his hand.]

You can stay inside or come up with me.

[Already he knows he's opening a kind of Pandora's box with the latter, but he owes it to Larry. He's already let on to where the guy lives, refusing to even invite him up is like saying the kid doesn't trust the old man not to kill him. He does, but busting his jaw is another issue entirely. Above all, this is about Sam.]

[Luckily the old man didn't hear a lick of that piece of shit going to exotic places to show off.]

Lemme go with you.

[To scout. To get a real feel for how they interact close up with him in the picture. He won't be overt or a brute but if things cross the line, the kid can't possibly hold Larry responsible. Tensions are high. This is about this kid's bird and their diamond mine.]

Please.

[First Larry gets a silent look. Silent, looking, looking silently. He really means it doesn't he? It's not every day the old man says please so sincerely. Freddy nods twice, tambourine in hand--wait. He gives the thing a shake, a symptom of having flappy paws while holding an instrument.]

He doesn't know shit okay? About.

[A gesture between the two of them. This isn't so much to let Larry know they're on the down low (as usual) as it is to ensure the old guy the other old guy isn't gonna immediately swagger out like competition. Why would he anyway? Freddy's still convinced Brian has no interest.]

[About now the old man cares too much about where this is all going to go to be unnerved by a silent look. Yeah. He means it. Larry wants to get a good look at this motherfucker and what he's about. Sure all that mess about the cross mounted on the kid's wall and following the shrink is water under the bridge but that doesn't mean that the old man can't remember. Could the shrink know what kind of trouble he causes just fucking being?

Freddy's trust is a precious commodity. A man has to respect it. That's both the old man and dick.]

I won't tell if you won't.

[As usual. Frankly it is need to know information that no one else needs to know. Though like jewelers, some people have an eye for these things. They call it radar these days though don't they? Smart guys with degrees or doctorates tend to be analytical enough to spy people this way or that. Or faggots. Larry pegs the shrink to at least have a pair of those kinds of prying eyes. If he sees, he fucking sees.

Since Freddy's the one with the bird and the measure of acquaintance with the dick who has pretty heavily decorative tastes Larry lets him take the lead. Glasses remain on.]

[That makes the kid smile a little. Even though he's lost his bird he hasn't lost his sense of appreciation for an old man, an old man helping him find the stupid toucan even when it involves visiting a guy he doesn't like on principle.]

Deal.

[Up and up they go, it's clearly one of those gentrified bohemian neighborhoods, the kind Freddy would never live in. He imagines the same applies to Lawrence Dimick. Nothing against (rich) bohemians, it's just not their thing. That alone ought to convince Larry the therapist wants nothing to do with Freddy except to talk, to gain the working class experience through osmosis...or something. Yep, anyway up they go, taking stairs instead of an elevator to the open air hallway of the sixth floor.] I'm just gonna see if he's around and ask about Sam, then we'll leave.

[Freddy repeats to Larry as both assurance and a thinly veiled behave. Knock knock. No answer...so far.]

[Will the old man have to apologize at all after this? The mind does wonder.]

Do we need to shake on it?

[Joking a little. He feels pleased and stupid that Freddy can see right on through him. Unease and a stride to make amends doing the cha cha. Going up and mentally gauging how much the place gets makes him more spiteful. What would that kind of a man want with Freddy? He knows how much he and his services are worth. Whatever Freddy does (or doesn't) get is free of charge.

Sixth floor are you there yet? Granted they're not vaulting up there but the old man's working a sweat. That'd be embarrassing to show at first face to face.

Would he think that he's Freddy's father? No. See, the kid would introduce him as a roommate. Or not at all since its about Sam. It's not important. For all he knows the bastard isn't home and they came up here for nothin'.]

[Freddy would be the last person to judge Larry for breaking a sweat, but then again Larry's not concerned with his judgment is he? The kid knocks some more. There's movement behind the door then a click click of the locks as a man dressed in just his pants--yeah just his pants--answers the door. His torso is damp, much like his hair, and his feet are bare. That's the kind of peppered hair tall guy he is. The kicker? He's at least 6'1".]

Hey, look I'm real sorry to bother you but this is kinda important. My toucan flew the coop, have you seen'im?

[Mannerless Newendyke. Either Freddy's deliberately being quick to get them in and out of there or the guy is used to the way Freddy acts. Hmmmm. In contrast, the other man is mild mannered, but one look at Larry and he already knows. "Sam? No I haven't seen him, Orange. What happened?" Who's your friend? Does he have a strange colored name too? Of course he does, I've seen him on the network here and there. Behind Brian are various furnishings of subdued class and culture.]

[Jesus Christ motherfucking super star. The jackass is taller up close. Big enough to be something to contend with in a fight. Larry's pretty solid that a gun would put him down like everyone else. Who the fuck does he think he is coming to the door with no shirt on? Pornos start out like this. The old bear bites his tongue. Freddy's got the lead. Let him answer the questions.

He's taking in all that he sees behind his sunglasses. Yeah. Just the kind of fella he thought he'd be acting like all money is old money. Collector's items displayed around in just the right light to be tasteful. Shit gets framed. Then there's some kind of a naked statue of some kind. Fuck whatever that is.

Brown eyes back on that man. Look at him making eye contact with Freddy as he talks. Orange he calls him. Even that seems too fucking personal. Cool, Dimick. We're cool and collected. Not to mention trusted. This is for Sam. That's the only reason why we have to look at that scarecrow.]

[If Freddy was a mind reader he'd conclude Larry could take the guy down pretty easily. Those heavy firm bear muscles pack quite a fucking punch, he'd know. But again that's not the point of this whole venture. "Come in. I don't think he'd land without my knowing it but you can have a look." Pornos, right.]

This is a friend of mine.

[Freddy says, to both men so it's up to them if they want to introduce themselves to each other. Oh look there goes scarecrow's hand to the bear. "Brian St. Lewis." Yeah, that's his name buster. Orange is already going for the balcony with the bright colorful lights strewn across the railing, but his ears are open for a single drop of violence.]

[Come in he says. Well, wouldn't he like that. Where are those eyes of his looking huh? Larry's watching like a hawk where he walks, what he says and how he says it. No there won't be any case this evening or even a conversation. That would be heartless. The old man will remember.]

Nice to meet you.

[Firm handshake right here, no unnecessary strength out of that paw but he does it to the best of his abilities. You can tell a lot about a man by how he shakes hands. Brian St. Lewis sounds hoity toity. His handshake shows he is sure of himself. Though the pad of his palm and fingers feel oddly soft. Suspicious. The kid can go where he pleases here. Though the familiarity, yeah the old man catches that. Larry introduces himself as White. That's it. No mister. For all the guy knows that could be real. More real than Orange.]

Bird went out earlier.

[Being a helpful Dimick not just a looming figure. He's got to play the role of a friend.]

[Make no mistake Brian here is doing the exact same thing to Lawrence Dimick, analyzing and being analyzed. Shit Freddy can smell the testosterone from here, if it were for Sam he'd find it kind of intoxicating...not so much that two men could be so tense with each other but the fact that Larry here is exerting his territory short of pissing on Freddy. That's hot. Just not tonight. Brian just tilts his head and gives a slight nod of curiosity for that, White. Oh yeah don't think he's not taking advantage of being able to look down at Larry. Working class, been around the block, not the brightest block in the kiddy pen.]

No sign of him. Hey do you think you can leave out a couple of those things he likes? The fruit with the prickly hair.

[Freddy comes back waggling his fingers to better explain which fruit he means. "Rambutan," Brian here explains with a smile, like he's charmed over the way Freddy specifies the fruit. Do you know what a rambutan is, White? Yeah yeah he has a naked roman wrestler statue, what of it?]

Yeah that. I really appreciate it man. I don't know if he's ever been on the city on his own you know? I gotta get him back fast. [He can fucking smell it.]

[Look away you son of a bitch. That's what Lawrence Dimick is trying to exude. He's got nothin' to be ashamed of. Really, Mr. St. Lewis isn't so impressive a specimen on his own. Likely not prone to street brawls. Probably does some new age hippie dippy exercising to supplement all of that no meat, all natural food shit. That can keep a man fit but prepare him for combat? Larry'd wager not. Then again, soft hands means he doesn't work with them even for hobbies. And if he does then probably uses some kind of a lotion.]

The bird isn't picky.

[No. No he has no fucking clue what a rombuttang or whatever the fuck it's called is. That smile the dick is wearing sharpens the already aggressive possessiveness that Larry's trying to downplay. That man is smiling at Freddy Newendyke as though he is telling him a commode story. What could he thinking of comforting with his cock?

Cool it. Cool it. Not like the kid is letting the man undress him or talk dirty. He's trying to find Sam. Chances are he didn't even want them to meet up at Brian's pad. Strike that meet up at all.

All for the love of that bird.]

We'd appreciate it.

[Brian is a fag with his colored boho lights, fancy complicatedly named fruits and nude statues.]

[This is to you, you working class brute, "you have to be with toucans, meat will make him sick." True toucan facts. "I'm sorry I can't do more," he shakes his head at Freddy, "but I'll do my best. I can keep the lights on all night." Playing up the nice guy thing which he is at times, just not to Larry. This much is obvious. Maybe the old man is onto something after all. The kid hadn't caught a single whiff of it until now. Then again it could just be the size of Lawrence Dimick's massive cock threatening another man's unit. That's the way it goes, or something. Anyway, this is still about Sam.]

It's cool, thanks man.

[Freddy nods, genuinely appreciating any help he can get for the toucan. Green eyes aren't making too big of a show darting between the men but they're darting, he's noting, he's smelling. Right, time for them to go.] We're gonna keep lookin' on foot. Give me a call if anything comes up.

[Another nod, the kid's talking like a regular detective. The better to avoid a cock fight. "Next time let's share a drink," Brian adds, looking at both men, especially at you, Lawrence Dimick, "White."]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject