orangetoughguy | log post II

[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."]

That's a given ain't it?

[Smart ass. That's a hurdle that the working class brute has to thrown himself over. No swear words, no unnecessary words from there. Give the fucker credit, Freddy please. It's hard to not take a crack. Brian is pouring it on thick and sweet. He may as well be vomiting maple nonfat no trees harmed syrup. Brazen this.]

Thanks. I'll keep that in mind.

[No names. A mister would denote respect. A first name alone would be too familiar. Then just the last name well. Fuck it all. Larry doesn't want to keep it anymore direct than that. They did their part for the bird here.

Since Freddy came first, he'll leave first. Then Larry will follow with his massive cock and balls.]

[.....Right. Another nod, a wave of that tambourine, and the kid's scooting on out of there. He looks over his shoulder only to make sure there's a bear following without leaving a blood trail. Not that he thinks Larry would deliberately wreck Brian, kick him on the way out on the other hand...

Said Brian just smiles for the two, door open then closing shut softly behind them. That Lawrence Dimick is a troublemaker, pissing all over the short one without provocation. Who does he think he is? Uneducated jealous possessive violent misery maker.]

See, that was okay.

[Freddy says to Larry once they've passed the fifth and fourth floors. Talk about an oblivious foxhound, or maybe he's just in denial about his own desirableness.]

[Out the door he goes happily. Good riddance you fucking piece of shit. The old bear lifts a paw to wave behind him. His shades were on the whole time. So his pokerface might be legible. He doesn't give a fuck right now. An over protective, suspicious friend. Oh well.

Don't doubt Brian St. Lewis that this mans piss is all over him. The kid notices and doesn't care. Hah.]

Right.

[That's all he'll say. Why stir the waters even more. Sam is still missing. Larry has to tell himself that though he'd like very much to take a hold of the kid awhile and appreciate what they got.]

[.....Right. Well it's true the kid doesn't care at all because Larry treats him real nice, not smothering nor neglectful. Most importantly he just doesn't see it when someone else has interest in him, most of the time. Freddy clears his throat then tucks the tambourine under his arm to get a cigarette out.]

Where else can we go?

[He's thinking, thinking, pet shops are probably closed for the day, restaurants and gardens still open though. But again, cats. Sam and cats don't mix. Cats...Pink has a cat...]

[A paw comes up to pat Freddy on the back to satisfy his need to touch him in some way. That's about all he'll get tonight. And that's fine. Fucking won't bring the bird back. Brian St. Lewis you've met your match in Lawrence Dimick because he is the one who takes care of this hound. Now it's a tough one.

A smoke would be a good idea right now.]

Any place else you went with him? Any stores?

[He'll light the kid's cigarette. Anything to make it a little easier.]

Did you tell anyone about his special talent?

[Even in passing. This isn't an accusation.]

I can think of one diamond hoarder.

No, I didn't tell anybody.

[A shake of his head before he takes that light graciously. Pull then puff puff. Freddy would be in hotter water had he told anyone that fucking lie. The fact that he told only Larry though, doesn't that make it worse? Shut the fuck Newendyke and just think like the cop you are. Think. Think Pink.]

Pink.

[He doesn't even say why, just the man's name alone connotes manipulation and underhandedness. Okay not all the time, the guy's not so bad but Sam's been there too once, and the bitch cat didn't take a liking to him. At all. Freddy's never known Sam to want to pick a fight however he's no toucan expert either. One never knows.] Come on.

[It's always a trip to be in this apartment at this doorstep. So much happened in this place. Larry honestly believes that it's been ruined by Pink living there. And that cat. This will be visit number two for Sam.

And for Freddy. The old man steals himself before lifting a paw to knock.]

You want to go in too?

[Orange is the boss man.]

[Pink isn't really expecting company, so when the cat hisses and takes off for the top of the fridge, he stares at the door for a good long second before he saunters over and looks in the peephole.]

What the fuck are you guys doing here?

[No, he hasn't opened the door yet. But then they haven't officially knocked.]

[Hey fuck you too, cat. And Freddy can't even see the fleabag yet. He looks at Larry then nods to the door.]

I need some help.

[That's right, 'I', let Pink think Orange is in dire straits, that White's only along for the ride (likely story, the weasel seems to know a lot more than he lets on). Also, for Larry this means yes, I'm going in too.]

[For that retort Larry knocks hard again.]

Just open the fuck up. Open Sesame.

[Good because the stink. Fuck it may be coming out right now. The moral support however wordless would be great.]

[There's nothing stinking in this apartment. He may be a criminal but he's not a dirty one. He undoes the chain and opens the door]

Help with what?

[He doesn't have his gun. Mistake.]

[Before explaining what he needs help with Freddy makes his way through the door, forcing himself in if necessary. See, he knows if he tells the guy up front what he needs help with there's a chance he'll shut him out lightning quick. No need to get violent now. This is definitely a different approach from the bohemian fuck's apartment.]

Where's your cat?

[There is a stink. It's the stink of cat. Other peoples would call it a smell. Hardly detectable after a few moments. This old man's sensitive. But Pink knew that.

He was about to ask that question, Freddy. And he's very grateful of it. It makes him feel more at ease.]

We'll talk inside. Come on.

[Cat or no cat. The sooner it's over the sooner they can leave. That must be something they all can agree on.]

What?

On the fridge.

[He turns to look at the cat, who looks annoyed, baleful, and suspicious. Also not full of toucan]

What the fuck is this about?

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