orangetoughguy | log post II

[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.

[And he can keep those secrets too. Larry knows treasure when he sees it. Those can't be pawned. He feels rich.]

I'd love to hear you play me a song.

[Even one of Freddy's. The loud, no way of sleeping through sorta song.]

So you gotta take it up.

[To make it perfectly clear.]

[He's young enough to feel utterly flattered but old enough to recognize a little trickery however harmless. Larry wants to get him a real guitar, a real fucking bass guitar. It's sweet, a true treasure, and Freddy can't say no.]

Okay. [Orange smiles before leaning in again to meet near nose to nose, because he has an important point to reiterate.] But I'm warnin' you again, I'm loud and I'm not that good.

[To make it perfectly clear. But he knows Larry enough to realize that probably doesn't matter to him.]

[How much of a trick can it be if he's aware of it?]

Oh, I know.

[About the loud. As far as good, only time will tell whether or not it's Newendyke modesty or the gospel. What's a racket verses Freddy's happiness?]

A guy's gotta practice.

At least I'll always have an audience on hand.

[Freddy quips only because he wouldn't seriously make Larry listen to every single one of his jams, but one here and then would be nice. Real nice.]

And a fan club too, how bout that? Everyone gets hard one way or the other at a good concert.

[One thing he'll take seriously is that this means something.]

Don't get too ahead of yourself. You said good concert.

[He gives the old man a nudge then a grin.]

But the fan club's alright. I'll be Geddy Lee and you can be Neil Peart. [However if Rush is too progressive for Larry's mind...] Or I can be Tom Hamilton and you can be Joey Kramer.

So I gotta get drums then, huh?

[As if he's gotta ask. The guitar isn't here yet, but that's how it has to be. He noses the kid to try and hide his guilty planning face. Oh hey it brings them closer together.

This is fucking great.]

What you wanna call this outfit?

Sure, I mean if you wanna. I can always hold auditions or somethin' if you're too shy to join the band.

[Freddy quips while getting nosed. For a big old hardened criminal Lawrence Dimick certainly enjoys holding, touching, and squeezing. The kid don't mind (he loves it).]

How about Two Guys, Too Much Time. Then it's Two Too for short, or TouTou with dots on the last u or on the o's like in Blue Oyster Cult. Then everyone'll think we're really heavy metal and we have no rules.

Hey. Hey. Who said anythin' about being shy? It was a question.

[Larry pulls back with feigned seriousness. Though one can bet money he'll be back to making himself comfortable. The old man sure does like his physical contact especially when its with his man.]

And it sounds too much like tutu. That'd give the wrong ideas too. Or it could be Good Fellas. Though I think we're gettin' ahead of ourselves using good.

Okay. Some Fellas. Dots over the m.

[This is called compromise.]

[The old man rolls onto his back and writes it in the air.]

Some. Fellas.

[Dot. Dot.]

I like it.

[Elbows the kid.]

Good. [Oof. This does not deter Freddy's laughter.] When we get an interview with Rolling Stone we're gonna tell'em the dots were my idea.

Sure they are. So was tutu.

[If we're gonna go down that road.]

We gotta get em first. Then practice. Rolling Stone the week after that. From there... I dunno. What to bands do after that?

[Since it looks like Freddy is the head of this operation.]

[Arms stretching back then bending behind his head to rest easy.]

They tour.

[Where would Larry want to go, he wonders.]

Touring.

[His arms don't go above his head but he has the same dreamy expression.]

How about we do the East coast first, then we'll head West. After that head down South.

[Mexico. Naturally.]

You wanna go to Europe or somethin'?

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