orangetoughguy | log post II

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?

Sure, I mean if you wanna. I can always hold auditions or somethin' if you're too shy to join the band.

[Freddy quips while getting nosed. For a big old hardened criminal Lawrence Dimick certainly enjoys holding, touching, and squeezing. The kid don't mind (he loves it).]

How about Two Guys, Too Much Time. Then it's Two Too for short, or TouTou with dots on the last u or on the o's like in Blue Oyster Cult. Then everyone'll think we're really heavy metal and we have no rules.

Hey. Hey. Who said anythin' about being shy? It was a question.

[Larry pulls back with feigned seriousness. Though one can bet money he'll be back to making himself comfortable. The old man sure does like his physical contact especially when its with his man.]

And it sounds too much like tutu. That'd give the wrong ideas too. Or it could be Good Fellas. Though I think we're gettin' ahead of ourselves using good.

Okay. Some Fellas. Dots over the m.

[This is called compromise.]

[The old man rolls onto his back and writes it in the air.]

Some. Fellas.

[Dot. Dot.]

I like it.

[Elbows the kid.]

Good. [Oof. This does not deter Freddy's laughter.] When we get an interview with Rolling Stone we're gonna tell'em the dots were my idea.

Sure they are. So was tutu.

[If we're gonna go down that road.]

We gotta get em first. Then practice. Rolling Stone the week after that. From there... I dunno. What to bands do after that?

[Since it looks like Freddy is the head of this operation.]

[Arms stretching back then bending behind his head to rest easy.]

They tour.

[Where would Larry want to go, he wonders.]

Touring.

[His arms don't go above his head but he has the same dreamy expression.]

How about we do the East coast first, then we'll head West. After that head down South.

[Mexico. Naturally.]

You wanna go to Europe or somethin'?

Okay but if we go east first it has to be in the spring or summer. [Because this kid can't handle east coast or midwest cold weather. Winter in California or Mexico on the other hand is super ideal. Super dreamy too.] I don't know. You ever been there? Like Amsterdam or something.

[He's not just saying that because Amsterdam seems like the place for their type to go or anything...but Larry can't possibly say no to that right?]

To tell you the truth I haven't been over there yet. My passport guy isn't so damn good. I've been to Canada. I was gonna hop a flight out to Spain to see what the fuck it was like and had a hell of a close call.

[Now he feels the need to get a smoke. Larry rolls over to reach for the nightstand.]

Marlboro?

[Oh. Well that puts a damper on their global tour. Freddy slips a hand out from under his head to gesture for the cigarette.]

Light me up.

[A rock and roll fantasy is still just that, something fun to think about, where being a criminal and a cop means nothing. A non-issue. Freddy thinks about shielding their deeper partnership from the paparazzi then getting so famous maybe they can openly say who gives a fuck and blow each other on stage. That's more entertaining than dodging Interpol. Don't dwell on it, think of something more dreamy, Newendyke.]

Know any sweet places where rock stars stay in Mexico?

[Cigarette between his fingers. And a cigarette between Larry's fingers. Click flick of a lighter to light each. Maybe they'd play a few numbers that get the lighter lift. Only they'd know who it's really about.]

Not specifically but I can tell you there are some nice out of the way spots.

[He sucks in a deep drag along with the memories.]

[Freddy takes a shallow pull before blowing rings upward to the ceiling.]

Which one's your favorite?

[He's gonna be relentless in talking about you now, old man.]

[This is because the old man leaned on him to get the whole story of the guitar.]

Las Ventanas al Paraiso in Los Cabos. I'm not 100% on what it all means but it's got paradise in it. They know what they're talkin' about. It's a big property, huge right on the beach. They got golf, pools, salons...

[And they could go together.]

[Puff puff. He already said Spanish really isn't his forte so Freddy shrugs over the meaning, taking Larry's word for it. But damn does it sound nice...and so very Lawrence Dimick. Only the best for him huh?]

So that's where you tan.

[It could be about the guitar. It could be about wanting to know more of Mr. White. It could be both.] I'd check it out.

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