orangetoughguy | log post II

[Oh and doesn't he fucking know it. But what those girls don't know is he's also fucking getting it. Pretty often too. It's enough to make them tolerable, if Orange is ever thinking about them like that in the first place.]

How close?

[Freddy figures he's getting to that part of the story. Now his own Dark Lord is gone and it looks like he took those finger foods with him. That leaves the kid's undivided attention all on the old man.]

Even with the music almost off, I gotta come near and whisper maybe even try and put my hand someplace appropriate to say you can't be doing that here.

[That Dark Lord will need to be filled. A good bartender would do it right now with out being asked. Larry's not that good. He's fighting for his tip right now. Doing what he should isn't enough. And the kid has got to escort Miss Christie Love and his old ass home.]

Appropriate? At that kind of party? No fuckin' way.

[Says the doubting doubter who puts his glass a little closer to the tender's side as some kind of hint. Yep. A hint.]

Were they oiled up? Could you feel it?

A guy does what he can. [He shrugs, it ain't no thing. Guess that means there will be more Dark Lord for this man. Larry takes the glass and fills it up to the brim.]

You bet. A strong shoulder slick to the touch. And talk about warm, the place was hotter than hell with the A/C cranked.

[Freddy nods again, this time in thanks for the goods. Before he takes a sip though he reaches out to clap a hand on Larry's broad shoulder.]

Was it hard?

[To the touch or to deal with? Anyone who isn't them wouldn't get much of an idea on ambiguity.]

Oh it was. Definitely was.

[Have a genuine gigawatt smile, kid. Uh oh. Someone is coming on over. It's a lanky man with short dreadlocks.]

White, my man with the plan! You forgot your party favor.

[He plops a hand on the bar near one of the old man's paws.]

Thank me later. I gotta scoot. Things to do, places to go. People to do.

[He gives Freddy a wink.]

[.......On the inside Freddy's not sure what to say to this other guy. He's mostly interested in what the man just left on the table. On the outside he gives a smirk for the remark, the kind that says "Don't I know it. Sitting right here on my dick is where it's at for any girl's ass." Uh huh.]

You're popular.

[This he says to Larry and only after the other guy's gone.]

I know them, they know me.

[He waits and stares at the other man until he's sure he's gone before pulling his hand away as if it were burned.

There's a little bag right there on the table filled with white powder. The benefactor left a rolled up 20 in there too. A perfect little kit sitting right fucking there. Damn.]

Thought I was off the hook. I left that at the pool table. Shouldn't someone have just picked that shit up?

[Honesty among thieves isn't always a good thing.]

Thanks. I owe you one.

[Freddy says in the most casual way possible before he takes the bag and puts it in his own pocket. Nothing doing. That's the end of it. He's fairly sure Larry isn't going to make a scene about it (if he knows what's good for him. Another sip of Dark Lord goes here.]

Are you gonna invite me to the next party?

[Time slows up and brown eyes watch the cursed package disappear into those freckled fingers. His gaze moves up to the man's face. Is the kid disgusted? It's Freddy's. Larry's trying to convince himself right now that he doesn't want it. It isn't worth it. Why do they have to put that goddamn coke in front of his nose?]

You're welcome.

[No scene here. The music and sound of the party comes filtering right on in and he can see the whole picture.]

Of course. Unless I don't have to come.

[He looks down to fiddle for a cigarette.

[He's not disgusted per se, he just knows temptation when he sees it and Larry's tempted by proximity. Can Freddy blame him? What would he do if someone left their first issue of The Incredible Hulk on the bar? He'd be tempted too. Okay comics and crack aren't exactly the same thing (some people say otherwise) but the point is the kid gets it. He's not disgusted just because Larry's tempted. He would be disgusted if the old man picked up the bag and made lines with it, disgusted with himself too for not doing better to help Lawrence Dimick kick the habit. As it stands Freddy is still calm and casual.]

Cool.

[Feet shuffle off the barstool to dangle over the bar's edge.] How much longer are we gonna be here?

[How many more times will he have to confiscate narcotics? Thank fucking christ these people don't know he's a cop.]

Yeah. That's you all over.

[Cool like a glass of pop on a sweltering hot day, that's Freddy right now.]

Ten minutes by my watch but I think it's fast.

[The first drag of the Chesterfield is slow.]

Follow me.

[He steps out from behind the bar reaching past Freddy to grab his glass.]

Take your drink.

[Another 'modest' shrug.] I try.

[For a brief second he panics on the inside, thinking Larry's gonna reach for the bag, but it's only the glass he wants. Whew. Immediately the kid feels guilty for even thinking it but if the old man can't tell there was a flicker of concern then nothing doing. He's got his Dark Lord tagging along.]

Where are we goin'?

[He asks just to keep a casual conversation flowing. As far as he knows no one is any wiser although he hasn't seen Lucky yet either.]

[The old man wishes he could say with all honesty that trying to get the goods is the farthest thing from his mind. It crossed his mind, not enough to follow through. That'd be a betrayal of trust, the kid's trust in his self-control and the trust that he wants to conquer his addiction. Larry has his smoke and his drink. No other physical meets can be met (right now).]

One more walk around and then clockin' out.

[White is on the prowl again. His eyes are looking for anything he needs to get involved in...like thievery.]

You'll be okay enough to take Christie, right?

Got it. [Freddy nods before getting a cigarette out himself. He lights the stick up and puffs.] Anything I can help with?

[Something that can actually put his cop know-how to good use? It's kind of ironic given their backgrounds that Larry would have a security gig now.]

Oh yeah, Christie's a good girl. I treat her right and she treats me like gold.

[Come on Dimick, it's just his second beer. There's nothing special in this Dark Lord stuff...is there?]

Let me know if there's something I missed.

[Because being vigilant is hard when he's mentally a foot out the door. That's no way to be when you're security. That's how shit happens.]

I know she is. You two look good together.

[And he means it. Freddy's no lightweight, the Dark Lord isn't heavy hitting or laced. The old man just wants to be safe and sure that the whole damn day isn't fucked. It'd be the last fucking thing he needs.]

Okay.

[He's packing small at the ankle but size doesn't matter as Freddy's proven time and time again. Green eyes glance aside once more to throw a smile and wink Larry's way.]

I've seen the PSAs, man. It's cool. I brought my helmet.

[And the old man's, since these seem to be a Big Deal. If Larry can abstain from snorting a line then Freddy can strap on his damn helmet everytime, even if he doesn't want to.]

[A wide turn about the room has the old man doing a few waves here and there. He doesn't need to push past. There's enough room.]

Good. [The amount of people in the room and having both hands occupied prevents him from inventing ways to give him a pat on the ass of approval. Sure a cool guy doesn't like his helmet. Look how well he goes for it anyway.]

This one's clear.

[Back toward the rear where they saw Gump, but Larry goes to a door at one side. It's an office. An empty one. He flicks on the lights and there's a good ol' fashioned time clock to punch out.]

Thanks, kid. I owe you one.

[He glances down the hall to the left and right.]

[Freddy follows along like a good loyal dog ready for a pat to the head or the ass. Whichever works. What everyone else sees on the outside though is just a guy making his way around the place with someone he knows. Anyone who greets them gets an upnod from the kid too. Puff puff. Smoke in one hand and beer in the other. Nothing doing.

Well. Something's doing over there in the corner but the girl with the funky eye make up's gotta do what a girl's gotta do for some shallow attention.]

Don't sweat it.

[Freddy points his cigarette at Larry. By the time they've reached this office he's already done with his smoke and his beer. Huh, where can he put this down? It's a party so who's going to think oddly of a glass on top a counter? The coke is still coming with him though.]

[It's all familiar stomping ground. The big bellied men with the fratboy minds and the ladies who don't apply make up but have it wear them... This casino isn't Vegas grade, that's for sure. It is a happening place. And usually they're the chumps who put up with the partying and substance abuse on the other side. The old man is done with his drink. He lets his cigarette float in the top.

No one is around. Except Gump. He doesn't count. Larry shuts the door.]

I mean it.

[This man is a motherfucking lifesaver. Larry may not be bleeding out like a stuck pig in the backseat of a stolen car like some time and place far away, the situation is still dire. He pushes back the kid's hair from the side and leans to cover his mouth with his before he tries to deny it more. Heroes and their humility.]

[There goes his beer too then, on some counter or the top of a filing cabinet. His cigarette actually goes in an ashtray he finds on the other side of his beer holder. The kid thinks nothing of the door shutting until he looks back up at Larry.]

It's--

[Nothing. No really, Lawrence Dimick, Freddy just sees it as something he could, would, and should do for a friend. Someone who's kind of more than 'just a friend.' Paws in his hair and a kiss take him by surprise but he melts right into it with ease. His own hands run from broad shoulders to Larry's neck then up to cradle the sides of his face. Don't try to pick pocket the cocaine, White. He'll know.]

[Who says the glasses'll stay here? Larry is planning on giving them to Gump or at least leaving em in that room. Offices aren't garbage bins however they are perfect places to really lay one on the one you love. The old man scoots a bit closer. Don't worry, kid. He isn't gonna press you into that file cabinet, it isn't comfortable.

Paws stay put on the kid not in his pockets. Which one was it though? Don't go for it. Don't even try. That's terrible. Worse than thinking about it. Not as worse as wondering if they'd ever in a million years do it together? Quit it, Dimick. Larry sighs and slides his tongue across Freddy's lower lip.]

Get rid of it, baby. I don't want it at home or on you.

[Even if he has to wait here.]

[Being this close to Larry, mouth to mouth, hands on each other, makes Freddy forget he even has the shit until the other man brings it up. No he doesn't even need to specify what it is. The kid knows. His lips purse as if trying to coax that tongue back into them but he stops. Freddy gives a nod knowing just what to do.]

Where's the commode in this place?

[Yeah. He's gonna flush that shit so no one can get their hands on it. The $20 bill though...they can keep that right? Or will they have to give it back to White's buddy?]

[He wants to forget all about cocaine about how it feels on his tongue or how it stings a little at first snort before the head rush. It's sick to keep thinking about when he could be completely giving himself over to the kid.]

There's one down the hallway, one by the bar on the left and two upstairs.

[Thick fingers comb through his not so salt and pepper hair. All of that shit is better left in the toilet.]

I can wait here.

[Or else he might try and intercept. That's a thought too.]

I got it. Gimme a couple minutes.

[Freddy nods. He has an idea to make Larry watch him toss it out or make Larry toss it out under his watchful eyes but...one step at a time. It's impressive enough the old man didn't give in tonight. He's fucking proud of that considering what he found about a half year ago. He gives one of those shoulders a firm squeeze.]

You're a tough guy. Take care of these while I'm gone.

[He gestures to the glasses before making his way out the office.]

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