orangetoughguy | log post II

[He's thinking about, not because he'd ever be adverse to playing a game with Larry but because he's wondering what the real game is. Even simple old school guys like Lawrence Dimick can be creative.]

Are there cameras? I wouldn't want to get your loss on film. [That's a joke, Larry.]

Nope. Not this time.

[Though he is looking at a camcorder, Mr. Orange. Not that he'd let you know until a very vital moment. Larry is up off of the chair. His Chesterfield streams smoke behind him as he moves the barbecue. The coals are cooling down. They need their third baseline.]

Want to wager? Whoever wins get's somethin'?

Like what.

[He asks out of habit rather than actually wanting to know. 'Something' in their world pretty much counts for anything and anything is always good. Larry's never done him wrong...except for that one time but it was a long time coming. Freddy had hurt him first. That's all behind them now though ain't it? Proven as such by their about to embark on a game of two-man catch somehow. Right after a meal too. Either way though the kid's on his feet and ditching both shirt around his waist and the cigarette. It's a miracle he can still run and fetch after picking up a nicotine habit, same with Dimick come to think of it.]

Like what he says.

[The old man is grabbing the gear. Yeah. They'll play a one on one.]

What if I said you win my hat?

[Even though he's laughing, smiling and having a good time he knows that this man can hurt him more than any other person he's known. Hell, he has. Freddy's a cop. Not only that, he's the cop that Larry loves and has done so much for and to. They haven't come to blows. That anniversary hasn't come up yet. And the old man is looking to say that he hasn't laid a hand on him in harm for years. Yep. That's what he wants.]

My hat he says.

[Snort. Why would Freddy want to win a Brewers cap, honestly. Although he could win it and then deface it, but the kid's not cruel like that. In the end he'd probably just give the cap back to the old man so what kind of wager is that really?]

I'll think of somethin' better. [The kid shrugs and gestures for the game to get started. Full of steak, booze, and cigarettes, his body is ready for a fast one.]

[Close game. Larry did pack the punch as far as going to bat but Freddy is always faster.]

Good game, pal.

[Huff. Puff. He leans forward, hands on his knees. The night feels warmer on his skin.]

Guess you won.

[No need for guessing though. One shove and he's upright. All of the shit can get thrown in the car. Just the chairs, cooler and the bbq.]

So. Now what?

What can I say? You gave your best.

[He's younger, faster, sharper...but Larry could still break Freddy in two with one punch. He's just lucky this was a ballgame and not a boxing match. Larry would cream him in the latter and not necessarily in the really hot sexy way either.]

First I'm gonna take this. [That Brewers cap? Consider it booty. Except the kid turns it around so the team name isn't emblazoned over his forehead.] Then I'm gonna help you load up the car.

[By carrying this one folding chair and nothing else.]

Sure did.

[He wipes the sweat off of his brow with the wildcat arm. They all got things they're good at. Larry would have ran circles around Freddy back in the day. He'd like to believe. Well, who really knows for sure.

If this were wrestling, boxing, maybe weightlifting he'd beat the kid no contest. The fact of the matter is that Freddy's frame is more slight. Even though he wishes he could forget what it was like to use this bear of a body to do him harm, he knows it would be easy.]

Mighty nice of you to help.

[That saves the old bear at least one trip. He forces the small radio into Freddy's hand. Little Richard's singing about a girl named Daisy that almost drove him crazy.]

Be good to that hat.

Come on don't be a sore loser, I'm not gonna do wrong by it.

[He gives the old man a wink, all in jest. He takes the radio too out of a sense of chivalry or whatever, maybe he just likes yanking Larry's chain. Goes both ways don't it? Little Richard can keep on jiving.]

I guess we go home unless you want a night cap. We could do that at home too. [Thinking aloud, this kid.]

I'm not a sore loser.

[And that doesn't mean that he's not above dumping the other chair on Freddy as he unlocks the trunk. There we go. Chair back. Then the other. Click of the radio. Everything else goes in. Larry pretends he's busy.]

You mean you don't wanna go to that alley down there?

[He tilts his head in a direction.]

Just as well. I think you want to head on home.

Hey watch it.

[As if he doesn't know the way he stows the chairs in there is on purpose fff. Freddy might be smaller but he's just as tough so he takes the blow in stride. Oof. Okay everything else loaded in, trunk shot accomplished.]

What alley? What for?

[Again like the kid doesn't know. Fff. That he suggests home though is a little intriguing.] I do? Are you a mindreader?

[That's over with he shuts the trunk with a clunk.]

Oh. You know.

[To the driver's side now.]

I mean, we don't have to.

[Like he'll it'll be an anniversary without it, not as the old man sees fit thanks.]

Let's say I got a hunch you wanna be there. S'all. Nothing big.

[We're talking price but that's for the old man to know and for Freddy to find out. The old man gets the kid things all the time...hopefully gift giving hasn't lost it's spark. He gave this one plenty of thought.]

[Green eyes are eyeballing the old man from over the roof of the car--yes he can see over it thanks. Then Freddy pops the passenger side open to climb in.]

Okay okay, take me home then.

[He relents because yes he can tell someone's got something special waiting there and no gift giving hasn't lost its spark.] How not big is nothing big?

[Engine rumbles to life. Larry hopes that the noise stalls enough for him to consider the right answer. Don't get the kid's hopes up. They are looking for a third. This won't be the one he had in mind.]

I think you should just see it. Bigger than three feet.

[And it wouldn't be no circus midget or helper of Saint Nick.]

There's something else that's about a foot long and at hand. You can get on that until we get home if you want.

[Casual enough?]

Bigger than three feet...

[The kid's trying to imagine it and several things come to mind, all of which might be severely wrong so he doesn't voice what his overactive imagination conjures.]

What's that?

[The foot long. Is Freddy playing dumb or genuinely stumped?]

[He'll never guess with a clue like that. Just how the old man wants it. That's how surprises should be after all.]

Here.

[One paw grabs one of his and then fixes it right between the old man's thighs.]

Figure out that one.

[Whoa talk about straight to the point, not that Freddy had any doubts. Just to make a point though he sort of feels around the space between those thighs.]

Okay but it's not a foot long.

[Just had to throw that out there, keeping it real, this kid.]

You'd know for sure. Regular professional.

[As well as a bullshitter and a cop. There's that too that's changed a hell of a lot in a damn year. He was just a passing fancy, something that inspired a jaunt with a street girl. And even after the black magic woman spell, they were close to parting ways, seeing other people but it just wasn't e-fucking-nough.]

Ten then? Nine? Eight and three quarters?

[Breathy exhale as they roll through the streets.]

[Freddy can't help but snort over the measurements this old fucker suggests. His swaggering talk compensates for however many inches are lacking to hit the foot long mark. Freddy's pressing around these parts just enough but hardly going under his waistband. He'll save that for home.]

Six and a half but I'm just guessing.

[Could be accurate, could be generous. Freddy's never really measured it but by comparison to those cocks in some of his special movies Larry's not exactly far off from the type. What a lucky son of a bitch you are, Newendyke.]

Guessing? I'm surprised.

[Just having his hand there at all is like added heat to his jeans. Yep. Saving it for home.]

We'll check sometime to be sure.

[All fun and games. The old man knows he doesn't have a gorilla grade cock. This one has served him this well. Freddy's got no complaints. His isn't too bad either. Calm down, Dimick.]

Almost there. We can leave the shit in here.

Why do you need to know? It don't change how much I like sucking and fucking it.

[Spoken so casually as his palm rubs just a little harder. Freddy's maintaining expert control because he doesn't want them to get into an accident.]

Whatever you say boss.

I think you should know, you know. Stay informed. You're the most involved party.

[Ooh, he's on it just the right way. And with just the right words.]

You know it really likes getting sucked and fucked by you too.

[Phew! Right up the street and to the parking structure in no time.]

What does it have a mind of its own now? Are you talkin' for it?

[Just bullshitting, really. His fingers contrast his flippant words by gripping him firmly.] Oh we're home.

[And just like that he lets go wearing a smile like the devil.]

Sure does. And I don't need to be a mind reader to know it's all about what it can do to you.

[Larry sucks in a breath. Freddy may feel under his fingers that all the talk is going right there.]

We are aren't we? Let's go in.

[Parked. Car off. Don't go leaping all into it now, old man. He does lean though as though he's adjusting that hat to steal a kiss. It's what thieves do. Right on out of the car now.]

Okay.

[And just like a sucker for thieves this kid falls right into his trap gladly. Freddy even makes a soft 'mmff' sound for that kiss before he's also climbing out of the car, almost giggly like a teenager. Look he's more than willing to fuck around too but he also wants to know what the old man got for him that's 3ft long. Oh shit, was he supposed to get Larry something too? He knows that guy to be somewhat of a romantic. Oh fuck did Freddy just fail at being sweet? Okay stop thinking about it, Newendyke, just get up there.

Fortunately for Lawrence Dimick it's late enough that the toucan doesn't even stir when they come in. His curtain's drawn and he's already tucked in his log. Lucky bastards.]

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