orangetoughguy | log post II

Good. [A nod in return.] We got hot chocolate, same thing.

[Not really but hot chocolate would really please the kid right about now. Also a cigarette, but he refuses to light up until they get home safely.]

[Amen to a cigarette.]

Easy to brew.

[Less of a hassle. They've met their quota of hassles by far tonight. Damn they're making great time. Freddy can be a smoking driver.]

Great back up.

[Larry's unbuttoning his shirt to wear the wifebeater. His Hawaiian shirt is too bloody for the lobby. He rolls it up and tucks it under his arm.]

You don't deserve any less.

[A casual and cool compliment for another. It's a little too weird, celebrating the death of someone who looks pretty much like yourself. Hell it was Larry, just different. Again he looks over to make sure the old man's wrist doesn't suddenly start bleeding too. Hey there's a spot on the secluded side street for once. Freddy parallels the vehicle with ease.]

[A paw touches on Freddy again. Nothing too intimate or intrusive. It's touching for the sake of being alive.]

Smoke?

[Larry knows there's something in the glove box. Chesterfields and Marlboro all around.]

...I'll clean this tomorrow.

[The car he means, his shirt will soak in the tub.]

Yeah. Light me up.

[Another couple nods. Freddy doesn't make to get out of the car just yet either. Killing the engines and the lights, sitting in here for a smoke, feels like a good idea as any. He's not shaking but he's got the shakes. Larry came after him.]

[Both cigarettes are lit between Larry's lips. When the Marlboro is properly lit he hands it over to Freddy. With the car off, silent and no longer idling around him. He notices the shakes.]

We're home free.

[...from a rattling experience all around.]

I know.

[Another nod. He can't hide his nervousness or the fact that he broke a cold sweat but Freddy won't let it take over him either. How could he? THe kid takes his cigarette for a deep pull.]

Fuck. Are you okay?

[How many times has he asked that question? Deserves repetition though.]

[A deep, long drag. His longs feel like they're made of led or something. That doesn't stop him from trying to take in as much nicotine as possible.]

I don't know what to make of it all.

[He fucking shot and left himself dead in an alley. And the shit he was saying. Larry rubs a hand over his eyes he was going to rub the top of is head but remembers the blood. At least now he can look at it. He flips down one of the visors to look at what is there in the mirror. This is what happens when you get your head slammed against the roof of the car a few times after a hit in the head.

Maybe that's why he wants to throw up.]

Me neither.

[He fucking shot and left himself dead in an alley. It wasn't Larry but it was and that leaves Freddy feeling a little sick too. Separating fiction from fact isn't always easy for him either, and he had Larry's other gun for fuck's sake. There's also the matter of what shit came out of his mouth.

Tapping ash aside the kid has to reach out and set his hand on the old man's knee.]

Everything he said, it wasn't you. [He's not looking for assurance, he's asserting it.]

[Sure the kid can get under his skin but Larry would never think to gun him down especially for the diamonds. The man doesn't even want them. And how could he think to put bullets in him with what they got?

Though it doesn't take long to recall that in a fit of rage Mr. White about kicked Freddy's ribcage in.]

Shit.

[This time it isn't a word flung out in frustration. It rolls out as a sigh, a reluctant acceptance. Flipping the visor back up he puts his hand on Freddy's. It all makes it feel like a sink hole is forming in his chest and all the bullshit is sucked in to keep falling forever in a state of being collected, not beginning or ending.]

I'd never say shit like that.

[What if someone would have heard? They'd be as good as dead.]

I know man.

[He nods, genuine and sincere. Yes Larry kicked his fucking ribs in but that was Lawrence Dimick in a rage. This one...this guy was practically cold-blooded. Stoic. He's never seen Larry like that except for a second when the man gunned down cops like it was nothing. Then White just as easily slipped right back into being a protector, taking Orange along and guiding them both to safety...or inevitable doom as it were. He's nuanced like that. The man he met in the supermarket, that man never once crossed Freddy's path so directly.

Maybe the kid just wants to believe no part of that man exists in him anymore.]

Let's go up, we gotta check out your head. [Another nod and puff of his cigarette. Freddy turns his hands over and up to give Larry's a firm squeeze in the darkness.]

[No doubt in Larry's head at all that whatever that was that wore his face was intent on killing Freddy. If he hadn't been there even with the throbbing head, it's a given what would have transpired. The kid deserves credit where it is due but...damn. That kind of shark approach is not meant for Freddy.]

And get you your chocolate.

[That sounds good right now. A guy can spike that with Jack Daniels or whatever else they got. Lock the car all around. Larry gives it a few times over to make sure there's no mars of them being followed.

It'll be like checking under the bed and in the closet. Sure, may not be anything there but may as well rule it out personally. ]

I might just heat up some liquor.

[He jokes but it's half-hearted. He'll be taking the hot chocolate as is unless a shot of baileys might do in it. Where Larry thinks about how someone who looked like him planned to kill the kid, Freddy here thinks about how he's had to watch the old man die twice. What the fuck is wrong with this city? After the lock and lookover he leads the way through a side entrance, minimizing their presence in the lobby to just a couple seconds before they can reach the elevator. No stairs, it hurts.]

[The ideal combination ends up to be three parts hot chocolate one part booze. Some kind of a sweeter white Russian.]

Here.

[Larry passes a glass to Freddy, insisting he be the one taking the load off on the couch. He'll get to his head in a second. Slowly, he sits on the coffee table across from the other man, holding the mug between two paws.]

About all of that...

[The shit that was spewed in the alleyway without a care...]

Thanks.

[Freddy nods, taking the cup of hot good stuff as he stretches along the couch. Laying down feels so fucking good after tonight's stressful surprise. His side is hurting less but the pain isn't gone. However the kid's mind focuses on other things right away when Larry brings up 'all that'. He knows what all that is.]

You don't have to say anything, Larry.

No.

[Hard and a bit too abrupt. He shakes his head.]

No, Freddy.

[More conversational, he's looking at the swirling into the air from the warm mug.]

I do. I want to tell you without a doubt as angry as I can get, I'd never ever do you that wrong.

[Killing him, robbing him, going after him like that in public.]

[Those hard abrupt responses make Freddy silence himself for the moment. He hasn't sipped his hot chocolate yet. So Larry needs to say it all even though he must know the kid won't hold it against him, right?]

I know, Larry.

[He promised him once too, but more than that Freddy has faith in him.]

[In the pause, trying to gather his thoughts he takes a sip.]

Do you?

[His jaw tightens as he swallows.] I didn't know what I was running to or what hit me upside the head all I knew was that I was going and hoping to get there in time.

[It scared the shit out of me.]

And whatever that mother fucker was, saying what he did in public endangering us all. [The very thought makes him sneer.]

I do and I'm listening.

[So say your peace, Lawrence Dimick. He's not trying to get it over with either, it's a genuine window of opportunity for Larry to say what he wants to say because by all right he deserves to say it. Freddy doesn't feel like he has any right to pry, not about Alabama or Bobby or whatever else that fuckhead said. Larry would never call him a cop in public. Never.]

He fuckin' scared the shit out of me, I didn't know what he did to you.

Just. [Larry makes a pistol of his hand and points at the wound.] Think he said somethings.

[He wets his lips.] About being old, useless....fucking stupid.

[There's so much brewing in his head and heart. He's not some killing machine. Freddy should know, Larry should not have to feel like it is in jeopardy... but there is no doubt in his head that man that wore his face would have killed anyway he could. Guns, no guns it wouldn't have mattered if it was in private or right there in the store. And everything was lethal in his hands. That other Mr. White was using affection, past and present as a weapon. Seldom does he ever breath her name let alone his.]

I know he said a lotta things that were wrong.

[Mug down. It's starting to come together in clumps. Whatever works. How many times has the kid asked for little pieces, no matter where they'll come from?]

He was talking about...people. Things. [Spit. It. Out.] You're better to me than Bama or Bobby.

[Brown eyes look at him laying there not fucking dying, but not sitting easy.]

[Freddy takes a slow tentative sip of his chocolate russian brew. Not bad really, but he's not completely focused on the good taste either. Sam untucks from his corner to hop over towards the pair, curious because animals are adept at sensing things. Instead of perching by Freddy, the bird perches near Larry, looking from him then to the kid then back again. What's wrong, e-ee-e-e-ee-e-e-e.]

Whoever they are, they gotta be important to you too, Larry. I don't gotta be better than anyone...

[But it's sure as hell nice to hear. Does that make Freddy a selfish little bastard? An emotional vampire? He shouldn't care, he has no entitlement to how Larry compartmentalizes his past. It's not your fucking business, Newendyke.]

[The old man keeps on looking to the kid, he can't look back or away.]

Bama...Alabama. You know her. [Larry leans forward and reaches out to touch a paw to his knee. Sorry, Sam. All of his attention is focused elsewhere.] Bobby was about one of the best friends I ever had. And...

[A bitter smile perches precariously on his mouth a moment.] Bobby was one of the best men I'd ever known. We were friends. I wanted more.

[WELL THEN. That's okay Sam rubs that massive colorful beak against the soft furniture.]

...I'm sorry. [What a trite thing to say, Newendyke. Well what else can he say? It's in the past and it's not uncommon for people to hold up other people against people from the past. That's human nature. Freddy's not supposed to get curious, get jealous.] Before her?

[What was he like? Did he love baseball?]

Uh huh.

[Now he'll take a sip. It feels a little more comfortable. Is it wrong that he intended to hide Bobby from Freddy? There was always the nagging notion of giving too much away about the men before, about the automatic comparisons. To be honest, this is more intimate than the old man ever dared to dream. Deeper than anything he had with Paul in jail. Paul was scum and Bobby was truly just a friend.]

Met in high school. We kept on crossing paths.... Friends though, nothin' more in the end.

[For this Larry gets a faint smile out of Freddy.]

That's a long time. [He nods, considering his own thoughts for a moment, before he finally asks, because Freddy wants to know as much as Larry wants to tell.] What happened to him?

log post II

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