orangetoughguy | log post II

What a kind hearted soul!

[Big fingers pinch at Freddy's cheeks. Just a moment because he can. Also because any weirdness is nullified by the fact that they just fucked.

As far as the question goes...the old man doesn't know all that much about guitars.]

What color was it?

[Now he's trying to picture it, fresh out of the box and in those flappy young hands. Also a few pointers wouldn't hurt.]

[KJfkd;lfk;d. Freddy tries to bat that pinching paw away. Fff.]

Blue. Dark metallic blue, kind of like what you'd see on a hot car or a Nighthawk. It had a white scratch plate too, I knew it was custom. [White and blue like a certain fantastic team of four.] A Fender Precision Bass, 1977.

[Does he sound a little wistful? Possibly.]

[Nothing can stop this bear...nothing really.

Dark and shining this way and that in the light in Freddy's grip. Did he prop it against the wall or keep it in a case? The way that the kid describes it Larry can see the love for it in his eyes. Yeah. Love. He picks up on shit like that now with pride.]

How long did you have it?

[Shiny just like the look in his eyes even in the dim lighting of Larry's room. But when Larry asks for how long that shine dims a little too. Just like at the boardwalk.]

Until I dropped outta college. I put it up for the rent.

[Sort of. That's not the whole story and he doubts Larry thinks it's the whole story. The old man's good that way.] It brought in a couple hundred cause it was American-made you know.

[In other words the kid was robbed.]

[He pats the kid's back idly rubbing now and then in a lazy massaging way. People don't believe that it's tough to be young. There are times when Larry believes that the earlier part of Freddy's life was out of a picture book and times like these when he sees that there is plenty of strife and misery, a private blend.]

You did what you could, pal.

[His voice is soft, non judgmental for anyone in this room. Some bastard of a pawn star didn't have to pillage an already surrendered hopes of being a rock star or at least carefree jam sessions.]

I pawned shit I never would have thought I'd sell.

[The other paw is in his hair, not doing much but taking up space.]

[Those paws on his back feel real real good. Does Freddy even have to say it anymore that he loves it when Larry's touching him? Rubbing him? Squeezing each other?]

Yeah? It sucks a hard sour one.

[He nods, green eyes looking over at the old man wanting to know like what and why. Surely he had dire reasons compared to the kid's. Sometimes Freddy thinks unlike a whole lot of other people he had it pretty good but never knew it. Maybe his parents never knew it either.]

Yeah. [Sigh. Though he imagines Freddy never pawned watches from friends in exchange for coke.] Tellin' yourself it's just stuff don't always fix it.

[Like glowing rings or paintings of curvy women....the list goes on. These are the things they teach one another.]

Wouldja ever want another one?

[Easing it out there. Not like he's jumping up to go and get him one. Yet.

Larry likes touching on Freddy. He always has in some way. When a fella with eyes like his is bleeding and asking for the touch of your hand for reassurance a man like Mr. White can't say no. Ever since he hasn't.]

[No, he never did anything like that. The fact he's never had to makes the kid just continue thinking things could have been worse and he's wounded for no good reason other than he doesn't appreciate what he had enough. No, that's not all true. Even picturebook type families can be hurtful. Even now Freddy can't really say he and his dad have made amends. But at least he has one, or something, right?]

I don't know, maybe?

[When he looks at it he won't think about how he got his old one or where it went and why. When he looks at a new one he can think about how much he loved trying to be a rockstar and how much he loves this old man for wanting to rekindle the fantasy. It's just a fantasy after all, a harmless hobby. So why did you give yours away, Newendyke? He pushes that thought out of his mind.]

I'm warning you I turn that shit up louder than my morning music.

[And everyone knows how much Larry loves that, fff.]

[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?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject