orangetoughguy | log post II

[Cocky son of a bitch he is. And Freddy fucking loves it. Oof, a little hiss and groan gets him off Larry....for the second time, hah. But for the other remark the kid snorts.]

You're more of a muscle man huh? Not too much for the intellect?

[Flop. There's a dead weight resting next to you now, old man. He'd offer to clean up the mess he's made on Larry's chest but...mildly brain damaged and lazy. The kid's just no good to him now.]

Can't lie to you there. [Huff. He'll happily play the role of the pillow. The mess between them is warm, not uncomfortable. And not the stuff of urban legend acting as some sort of super glue. Staying put and being lazy are exactly what Larry wants about now. His heart rate is going back to normal still.]

Oh yeah. I like em beautiful and stupid.

[He pushes back Freddy's hair with a laugh and watches it flop back into place.]

Rare that brains and looks come together anyways.

[All in good fun, kid. After all, if he didn't think you were the cat's meow he wouldn't have used his hammer so frequently.]

Well I like'em brawny, all muscle down here. [He gestures over Larry's body then upward to Larry's head.] With the biggest muscle right here.

[He gives the old man's noggin a hard but painless poke. Tit for tat. And the appreciation is mutual too.]

Ha ha.

[Now that he's breathing easy there's more small pleasures to enjoy. Also the kid doesn't feel like he's weight him down.]

Glad you liked your guitar than.

[Though the wheels in his head are turning. It isn't a bass guitar after all. Don't those things need amps too? Most importantly, that guitar he pawned what was the story behind that? Would any bad feelings come right on up if he decided that the kid needed a new one?]

[Small pleasures like laying in the same spacious bed in their spacious apartment with fresh flowers fresh after a fuck? That's all pretty damn pleasurable to this kid too. He doesn't even feel the need for a cigarette. Yet.]

Your guitar that I'm gonna take good care of.

[Freddy clarifies with a look over at Larry. It's a tiny difference, really, but to some guys it's a big deal, and also an indication of how much that bass was truly Freddy Newendyke's bass guitar, c. 1979.]

[Small pleasures to experience every day that aren't fucking. Talking this close, being this close together.]

Uh huh. So that means whenever you get your own I'll take care of that one?

[Edging into the subject.]

Tell me about your other one. Was it electric?

Sure. You can hold it sometimes.

[He jokes because he'd let the old man rock out (with his cock out) whenever he'd like. Er, but what kind of follow up question is that? And he doesn't mean emotionally either, Freddy just wonders why Larry would think it wasn't electric because...well, because the kid doesn't consider himself to even harbor the aptitude for an acoustic instrument.]

Yeah it was electric, I got the bass and the amp for my birthday. It was kind of a birthday Christmas thing rolled in one.

[Because the shit wasn't cheap either.]

What a kind hearted soul!

[Big fingers pinch at Freddy's cheeks. Just a moment because he can. Also because any weirdness is nullified by the fact that they just fucked.

As far as the question goes...the old man doesn't know all that much about guitars.]

What color was it?

[Now he's trying to picture it, fresh out of the box and in those flappy young hands. Also a few pointers wouldn't hurt.]

[KJfkd;lfk;d. Freddy tries to bat that pinching paw away. Fff.]

Blue. Dark metallic blue, kind of like what you'd see on a hot car or a Nighthawk. It had a white scratch plate too, I knew it was custom. [White and blue like a certain fantastic team of four.] A Fender Precision Bass, 1977.

[Does he sound a little wistful? Possibly.]

[Nothing can stop this bear...nothing really.

Dark and shining this way and that in the light in Freddy's grip. Did he prop it against the wall or keep it in a case? The way that the kid describes it Larry can see the love for it in his eyes. Yeah. Love. He picks up on shit like that now with pride.]

How long did you have it?

[Shiny just like the look in his eyes even in the dim lighting of Larry's room. But when Larry asks for how long that shine dims a little too. Just like at the boardwalk.]

Until I dropped outta college. I put it up for the rent.

[Sort of. That's not the whole story and he doubts Larry thinks it's the whole story. The old man's good that way.] It brought in a couple hundred cause it was American-made you know.

[In other words the kid was robbed.]

[He pats the kid's back idly rubbing now and then in a lazy massaging way. People don't believe that it's tough to be young. There are times when Larry believes that the earlier part of Freddy's life was out of a picture book and times like these when he sees that there is plenty of strife and misery, a private blend.]

You did what you could, pal.

[His voice is soft, non judgmental for anyone in this room. Some bastard of a pawn star didn't have to pillage an already surrendered hopes of being a rock star or at least carefree jam sessions.]

I pawned shit I never would have thought I'd sell.

[The other paw is in his hair, not doing much but taking up space.]

[Those paws on his back feel real real good. Does Freddy even have to say it anymore that he loves it when Larry's touching him? Rubbing him? Squeezing each other?]

Yeah? It sucks a hard sour one.

[He nods, green eyes looking over at the old man wanting to know like what and why. Surely he had dire reasons compared to the kid's. Sometimes Freddy thinks unlike a whole lot of other people he had it pretty good but never knew it. Maybe his parents never knew it either.]

Yeah. [Sigh. Though he imagines Freddy never pawned watches from friends in exchange for coke.] Tellin' yourself it's just stuff don't always fix it.

[Like glowing rings or paintings of curvy women....the list goes on. These are the things they teach one another.]

Wouldja ever want another one?

[Easing it out there. Not like he's jumping up to go and get him one. Yet.

Larry likes touching on Freddy. He always has in some way. When a fella with eyes like his is bleeding and asking for the touch of your hand for reassurance a man like Mr. White can't say no. Ever since he hasn't.]

[No, he never did anything like that. The fact he's never had to makes the kid just continue thinking things could have been worse and he's wounded for no good reason other than he doesn't appreciate what he had enough. No, that's not all true. Even picturebook type families can be hurtful. Even now Freddy can't really say he and his dad have made amends. But at least he has one, or something, right?]

I don't know, maybe?

[When he looks at it he won't think about how he got his old one or where it went and why. When he looks at a new one he can think about how much he loved trying to be a rockstar and how much he loves this old man for wanting to rekindle the fantasy. It's just a fantasy after all, a harmless hobby. So why did you give yours away, Newendyke? He pushes that thought out of his mind.]

I'm warning you I turn that shit up louder than my morning music.

[And everyone knows how much Larry loves that, fff.]

[It hurts all the same. Larry doesn't wanna have anything he has to say trump Freddy that way. The kid's got a right.]

Maybe.

[Now the bear will roll and hold the kid to his sided. Call it a distraction so that he can not be so obvious.]

Thanks for the warning. Real, real nice of you.

[Huff. The exasperation is a little real. What a racket their mornings can be.]

So is that the story? Huh?

Wouldn't want you to go deaf.

[He's sidling up against him, casual, almost to the point of flippant because he wouldn't be the kid if he let the old man off without a little wisecrack.]

Yeah, that's the story. I never gave it a name. [Another quiet pause.] My dad knew I wanted it real bad, I think he wanted to be some kinda rock star too when he was my age.

[Could be a guy thing, who knows. Freddy shrugs against Larry.] He never picked it up, wouldn't pick up mine either. I guess he wanted to stick to cars anyway.

I'm a long way off from goin' deaf.

[Elbow right to the ribs for that remark. He may be the old man of the operation but he ain't that old, right? This morning he noticed that the gray was creeping farther. Better do something about that. Sure, it's just a color and what is important is that he still got hair... he's from a bygone generation where a man dressed up and looked as much as he's worth.]

He figured you'd like it though.

[Knowing his son. Paw dips about hip level to stay there.]

[Oof. Freddy curls again, this time as a reaction as opposed to affection. Fff. Not that it hurt or anything...as for being old. Well. The kid's too young to really make a judgment although at the same time some of the people around these parts calls him old so who really knows.]

If he didn't figure he would've known anyway cause I told him. I practically begged my mom and dad for that guitar. You know how some kids beg for race cars or ponies? Like that.

[Freddy manages to capture that part of the story with a little smile, even a laugh, because those were the damn days. The paw on his hip doesn't go unnoticed or protested. It's another way to share Larry's touch, in his bed. Everyday could be like this, but no need to have his thoughts travel down that road again.]

My dad was upset when I quit college for the academy. He'd prefer I really was some kinda starvin' gig crawler instead of a cop.

[Only true kids would call Freddy old, real teenagers. After the recoil jail, Larry pats the faux wound. Listening, picturing this fella small enough to be begging parents for one thing.]

That takes balls.

[To do what you want, regardless of parental approval.]

He was figuring shit out once too, bet he did things that pissed off his ol' man too.

[Treading softly on this ground here.]

I guess.

[He knows it does. Freddy shifts again to better conform against Larry's body, like fucking puzzle pieces or some other metaphor you find on Hallmark cards. But it works.]

Ohhh yeah. [Freddy affirms with greater amusement. Like father like son for three generations.] I tried to make it up to him anyway, I mean not that I was gonna quit academy either, but I wanted to make peace or somethin' you know? I wanted to play him a song, for him and my mom. He wasn't havin' it.

[Oh shit the kid's rubbing an eye with the heel of his palm. Nothing major, just rubbing...] I put it up after I came back to LA.

[They fit pretty well together considering they're so fucking different.]

What song?

[What old man would be so hard to say no? That's the stuff that'd be in the movies. Julia fucking Roberts and Richard Gere grade bullshit. Most of all Freddy wanted to do that.

Larry leans up to place his lips between Freddy's eyebrows.]

Big decision, tough guy. A big hard one.

Some John Mellencamp.

[Freddy says with another snort like he knows how ridiculous it sounds or maybe he wants to believe the idea was ridiculous to begin with to make its rejection sting less. It's not working very well. That kiss to his brow on the other hand feels real nice, real comforting, like he can tell Lawrence Dimick just about anything.]

I never told anyone why I really got rid of it. I just needed the rent money and I didn't have time to play the fuckin' thing anyway; all of that was bullshit, Larry. [Ugh, his voice is starting to shudder.] Listen to me I sound like a fourteen year old kid.

[Again with trying to downplay the whole incident. His laugh is half-hearted but he has a hand under the covers rubbing over Larry's thick forearm.]

[One doesn't seem like enough. There's another one and another one. One for each brow before he rubs em over tracing their shape with the rough pad of his pointer finger.]

No you don't.

[Ah. There it is then. Pop down right turning away something he worked on.]

Sorry it went down like that, pal.

Thanks.

[Freddy tilts his head up to better feel those kisses on him, Larry's thumb. He may be graying and a good sixteen years older than himself but Lawrence Dimick still feels like someone who could have all of Freddy Newendyke's secrets.]

I was an asshole to give it up. [This he admits, but the kid also still firmly believes dad was an asshole for rejecting his peace offering too.] But if you wanna hear me play, I'd take it up again.

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