orangetoughguy | log post II

[Orange contrasts that sharpness with his jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket.]

You look sharp. What's the occasion?

[Time and time again whenever this man shows up dressed to kill Orange thinks that's exactly what he's doing. If he's not killing people with bullets he's probably dismantling livelihoods just by virtue of doing...whatever it is he does. He looks like the type, an enforcer. That's the only way people can keep order when they don't live in penthouses or the burbs, right? People need people like White.]

Business here. Meetings there.

[Taking a seat then in the most casual of ways. Even though Mr. Orange is in casual clothes he's a charmer through and through. White knows a thief when he sees one.]

Get any of your answers about that peeping tom?

[Eye in the Sky.]

Drink? [He raises his beer to his lips, straight from the bottle. Fuck the Eye in the Sky bullshit.]

Yeah, I shook that little fuckhead down and got the paycheck numbers for his actors. Non-union.

[Bitter much? He doesn't regret punching out that douchebag though. Freddy doubts the other guy knew it was staged too.]

[Brown eyes go to the neck of the bottle and to his lips.]

Sure.

[Though why does he have to go on all sour like that. White smiles ruefully. There are only so many ways a man can get by in times like these being bitter may be one of the better ways.]

That's more than what anybody else has done.

What've you been watching lately?

[He asks, wanting to know what White has seen done, or hasn't seen done for that matter. Orange is gesturing for a woman to drop off another round of Coronas. She's cute, probably down on her luck, probably getting beat by her boyfriend once a week.]

The ponies. The papers.

[Meeting up like this at this place knowing as much and as little all at once gives a little sense to the world.]

The numbers too. Yours isn't up. Though keep playing as hard and long as you do...

[White doesn't finish the thought out loud. Really he doesn't want to.]

What does that mean? You're talkin' riddles.

[Freddy says with a tap of ash from cigarette to the tray's rim. Unlike the sourness with which he spoke of the filmmaking fucker, he speaks to White with some amusement.]

I'm talking perfect sense. Keep getting into matters and you'll be upsetting people.

[He'll take amusement far easier. White blows smoke upward into the air. He gives the lady a nod of appreciation for his Corona.

There's one person the old man knows who would be upset. It's best not to tip your hand. Besides if the lug don't know himself, well...]

I guess that's just how you are. Huh, kid?

So what you're saying like I'm a troublemaker or somethin'? I'm Wile E. Coyote and common sense is the Roadrunner?

[He's joking already. That's the effect this man has on him.]

I can only tell you what I think. And I'm not a looney toon.

[Fuck man, it's contagious sometimes. Tap, tap of ash in the tray.]

You can't be completely oblivious.

Naw. I have a hard time figuring out what I want...

[Green eyes look down the neck of his bottle before lifting to White then over to the main bar area. There's an older guy trying to flirt with a pair of younger girls. One of them has a fake tan and the other has tattooed eyebrows. The guy's got a mustache and thick rimless glasses for 'style'.]

You know, besides not be that guy, or kill him. [The last part is a joke too.] A big man like you's gotta have a story.

[...About his day, not about killing. He wants to hear more about White.]

What's there to figure really?

[To live, to love, and to do the fucking best a motherfucker can in this shit hole. First good long sip after the kid's. He looks over to see that crowd of three.]

It's good to not be them.

[A smile, a laugh.]

I play my fiddle the best I can. Keep my bosses happy. [It's an acceptable answer. Doesn't Orange know he's a bad man.] You don't like the ponies do you?

[He has an idea and he isn't afraid to show it, but he also likes White so a modicum of appreciation for his company keeps Orange from openly discussing the rights and wrongs of what a man like White might do. As for the ponies though...he shakes his head.]

I don't make enough to be a gambling man. Do you?

I like what they can get me.

[A love of money is a love seldom filled with disappointment if you know all your getting is bullshit. Bullshit that doesn't talk back and doesn't leave. But White has come to realize that it doesn't sit beside you for a drink and ask about your day.

Fuck.]

And you. Drinks are on me this time.

[If it'll be allowed from a tough son of a bitch here. He finishes his cigarette.]

Rather you or anything like them. [A nod to the threesome.]

[What? Really? The kid eyeballs the old man before leaning in towards him.]

Are you sure?

[Freddy asks, not because he's being polite company or because his pride won't let another man pay for him. He's asking because he jokingly wants to know if White knows what he's getting into by being generous with the booze around Orange. It's sweet. Oh shit, did he just think it's sweet?]

I'm sure. So don't go drinking like a fish, hear me?

[His sincerity is in his smile too. That is if Orange has any faith in sincerity coming from a guy like White.]

Today was a good one. Don't spoil it.

Tell me.

[Don't think he hasn't noticed White avoiding details. He's still taking the guy up on his offer though.]

I know folks down at the casino. All I was told was to show up because today was gonna be big. I dunno what was happening behind the scenes but they sure as hell were right.

[Know folks is only a round about way of saying he had friends, maybe more. Friends that ought to steer clear of this friend.

White leans over. He wets his bottom lip slowly and looks into those caramel green apple eyes.]

Can you keep a secret?

I can keep secrets.

[Orange's look shifts from entertained to something...something different. The way White leans towards him, the smell of secrecy and the gleam of the uncanny, all of it excites him. There's something about White and his world that feels alive to Orange. This doesn't necessarily mean he will keep White's secret though, whatever it is. Anything that violates Orange's principles and code of ethics goes. Yet somehow he trusts White not to make him compromise that...too much.]

[Voice low and still leaning White can take a good look at Orange's face. Clean shaven suits him especially at the jawline and cheekbones.]

Word is that they're using special oats. The kind that don't get detected easily. I dunno how many people know... but a guy can get pretty rich off of that. My guess is that the dough coming in has covered enough funeral fees to keep it this quiet.

[Pulling back a fraction he can look into the man's face and get a gauge of it. Will he really keep it mum? Guys at the races are a dime a dozen on Orange.]

It's enough to get a person out of this city.

[Orange's first reaction is to once again call bullshit. Special oats? Don't people just inject their ponies with steroids if they wanna go about it that way? Doped up race horses aren't anything new, but special oats? Get out of here. The ambivalent humor leaves this youthful face when the old man says it can get a man out of this place.]

Do you wanna get outta here?

[The kid has a love-hate relationship with the city. The second he has a chance to go he finds himself looking back, looking back for so long the bus that could have taken him out has already left.]

[Believe it or not, that's the story. Steroids, downers, uppers, whatever it is is getting results in a big way. White pulls back completely now to his drink.]

Sometimes. A brand new start, a brand new place. It's tempting. There's so many reasons to leave. [A long drink before brown eyes go to the man] And plenty good reasons to stay.

A guy like you rollin' the way you do and you got reasons?

[He's not trying to belittle White's response, but he really would like to know what kind of reasons he could have. To leave and to stay. Orange changes an empty bottle of Corona for a fresh one. Just because the drinks are on him doesn't mean he'll drink top shelf, unless White invites him to.]

Any living person's got reasons.

[White works on catching up as far as drinks go. His Corona is about finished. The kid can have whatever it is he wants. If it's the same ol' same ol' then that's what it is.]

People depend on me.

[Employers and Orange. One bad and one good.]

Sounds important.

[That cigarette's done. He rubs it out in the tray before sipping on his fresh bottle. Orange believes White but he can't help asking.] So what can I depend on you to do?

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