orangetoughguy | log post II

Thanks. I owe you one.

[Freddy says in the most casual way possible before he takes the bag and puts it in his own pocket. Nothing doing. That's the end of it. He's fairly sure Larry isn't going to make a scene about it (if he knows what's good for him. Another sip of Dark Lord goes here.]

Are you gonna invite me to the next party?

[Time slows up and brown eyes watch the cursed package disappear into those freckled fingers. His gaze moves up to the man's face. Is the kid disgusted? It's Freddy's. Larry's trying to convince himself right now that he doesn't want it. It isn't worth it. Why do they have to put that goddamn coke in front of his nose?]

You're welcome.

[No scene here. The music and sound of the party comes filtering right on in and he can see the whole picture.]

Of course. Unless I don't have to come.

[He looks down to fiddle for a cigarette.

[He's not disgusted per se, he just knows temptation when he sees it and Larry's tempted by proximity. Can Freddy blame him? What would he do if someone left their first issue of The Incredible Hulk on the bar? He'd be tempted too. Okay comics and crack aren't exactly the same thing (some people say otherwise) but the point is the kid gets it. He's not disgusted just because Larry's tempted. He would be disgusted if the old man picked up the bag and made lines with it, disgusted with himself too for not doing better to help Lawrence Dimick kick the habit. As it stands Freddy is still calm and casual.]

Cool.

[Feet shuffle off the barstool to dangle over the bar's edge.] How much longer are we gonna be here?

[How many more times will he have to confiscate narcotics? Thank fucking christ these people don't know he's a cop.]

Yeah. That's you all over.

[Cool like a glass of pop on a sweltering hot day, that's Freddy right now.]

Ten minutes by my watch but I think it's fast.

[The first drag of the Chesterfield is slow.]

Follow me.

[He steps out from behind the bar reaching past Freddy to grab his glass.]

Take your drink.

[Another 'modest' shrug.] I try.

[For a brief second he panics on the inside, thinking Larry's gonna reach for the bag, but it's only the glass he wants. Whew. Immediately the kid feels guilty for even thinking it but if the old man can't tell there was a flicker of concern then nothing doing. He's got his Dark Lord tagging along.]

Where are we goin'?

[He asks just to keep a casual conversation flowing. As far as he knows no one is any wiser although he hasn't seen Lucky yet either.]

[The old man wishes he could say with all honesty that trying to get the goods is the farthest thing from his mind. It crossed his mind, not enough to follow through. That'd be a betrayal of trust, the kid's trust in his self-control and the trust that he wants to conquer his addiction. Larry has his smoke and his drink. No other physical meets can be met (right now).]

One more walk around and then clockin' out.

[White is on the prowl again. His eyes are looking for anything he needs to get involved in...like thievery.]

You'll be okay enough to take Christie, right?

Got it. [Freddy nods before getting a cigarette out himself. He lights the stick up and puffs.] Anything I can help with?

[Something that can actually put his cop know-how to good use? It's kind of ironic given their backgrounds that Larry would have a security gig now.]

Oh yeah, Christie's a good girl. I treat her right and she treats me like gold.

[Come on Dimick, it's just his second beer. There's nothing special in this Dark Lord stuff...is there?]

Let me know if there's something I missed.

[Because being vigilant is hard when he's mentally a foot out the door. That's no way to be when you're security. That's how shit happens.]

I know she is. You two look good together.

[And he means it. Freddy's no lightweight, the Dark Lord isn't heavy hitting or laced. The old man just wants to be safe and sure that the whole damn day isn't fucked. It'd be the last fucking thing he needs.]

Okay.

[He's packing small at the ankle but size doesn't matter as Freddy's proven time and time again. Green eyes glance aside once more to throw a smile and wink Larry's way.]

I've seen the PSAs, man. It's cool. I brought my helmet.

[And the old man's, since these seem to be a Big Deal. If Larry can abstain from snorting a line then Freddy can strap on his damn helmet everytime, even if he doesn't want to.]

[A wide turn about the room has the old man doing a few waves here and there. He doesn't need to push past. There's enough room.]

Good. [The amount of people in the room and having both hands occupied prevents him from inventing ways to give him a pat on the ass of approval. Sure a cool guy doesn't like his helmet. Look how well he goes for it anyway.]

This one's clear.

[Back toward the rear where they saw Gump, but Larry goes to a door at one side. It's an office. An empty one. He flicks on the lights and there's a good ol' fashioned time clock to punch out.]

Thanks, kid. I owe you one.

[He glances down the hall to the left and right.]

[Freddy follows along like a good loyal dog ready for a pat to the head or the ass. Whichever works. What everyone else sees on the outside though is just a guy making his way around the place with someone he knows. Anyone who greets them gets an upnod from the kid too. Puff puff. Smoke in one hand and beer in the other. Nothing doing.

Well. Something's doing over there in the corner but the girl with the funky eye make up's gotta do what a girl's gotta do for some shallow attention.]

Don't sweat it.

[Freddy points his cigarette at Larry. By the time they've reached this office he's already done with his smoke and his beer. Huh, where can he put this down? It's a party so who's going to think oddly of a glass on top a counter? The coke is still coming with him though.]

[It's all familiar stomping ground. The big bellied men with the fratboy minds and the ladies who don't apply make up but have it wear them... This casino isn't Vegas grade, that's for sure. It is a happening place. And usually they're the chumps who put up with the partying and substance abuse on the other side. The old man is done with his drink. He lets his cigarette float in the top.

No one is around. Except Gump. He doesn't count. Larry shuts the door.]

I mean it.

[This man is a motherfucking lifesaver. Larry may not be bleeding out like a stuck pig in the backseat of a stolen car like some time and place far away, the situation is still dire. He pushes back the kid's hair from the side and leans to cover his mouth with his before he tries to deny it more. Heroes and their humility.]

[There goes his beer too then, on some counter or the top of a filing cabinet. His cigarette actually goes in an ashtray he finds on the other side of his beer holder. The kid thinks nothing of the door shutting until he looks back up at Larry.]

It's--

[Nothing. No really, Lawrence Dimick, Freddy just sees it as something he could, would, and should do for a friend. Someone who's kind of more than 'just a friend.' Paws in his hair and a kiss take him by surprise but he melts right into it with ease. His own hands run from broad shoulders to Larry's neck then up to cradle the sides of his face. Don't try to pick pocket the cocaine, White. He'll know.]

[Who says the glasses'll stay here? Larry is planning on giving them to Gump or at least leaving em in that room. Offices aren't garbage bins however they are perfect places to really lay one on the one you love. The old man scoots a bit closer. Don't worry, kid. He isn't gonna press you into that file cabinet, it isn't comfortable.

Paws stay put on the kid not in his pockets. Which one was it though? Don't go for it. Don't even try. That's terrible. Worse than thinking about it. Not as worse as wondering if they'd ever in a million years do it together? Quit it, Dimick. Larry sighs and slides his tongue across Freddy's lower lip.]

Get rid of it, baby. I don't want it at home or on you.

[Even if he has to wait here.]

[Being this close to Larry, mouth to mouth, hands on each other, makes Freddy forget he even has the shit until the other man brings it up. No he doesn't even need to specify what it is. The kid knows. His lips purse as if trying to coax that tongue back into them but he stops. Freddy gives a nod knowing just what to do.]

Where's the commode in this place?

[Yeah. He's gonna flush that shit so no one can get their hands on it. The $20 bill though...they can keep that right? Or will they have to give it back to White's buddy?]

[He wants to forget all about cocaine about how it feels on his tongue or how it stings a little at first snort before the head rush. It's sick to keep thinking about when he could be completely giving himself over to the kid.]

There's one down the hallway, one by the bar on the left and two upstairs.

[Thick fingers comb through his not so salt and pepper hair. All of that shit is better left in the toilet.]

I can wait here.

[Or else he might try and intercept. That's a thought too.]

I got it. Gimme a couple minutes.

[Freddy nods. He has an idea to make Larry watch him toss it out or make Larry toss it out under his watchful eyes but...one step at a time. It's impressive enough the old man didn't give in tonight. He's fucking proud of that considering what he found about a half year ago. He gives one of those shoulders a firm squeeze.]

You're a tough guy. Take care of these while I'm gone.

[He gestures to the glasses before making his way out the office.]

Okay.

[Nothing doing. This is what's right. C'mon, Dimick. You really want this deep down. He's finding it hard to grasp the why other than Freddy doesn't like it. That's not the whole truth. He's a forty three year old man who doesn't want to stay in the gutter. It's not a swell place to be because that's where people end up alone.

Larry leans for another kiss. Before he can pursuade himself to keep on being strong his hand rests at a pocket. One second. Two. It's hard to push the kid off but he does before something stupid happens.]

Go.

[It's not just because he's a cop either. Cop or crook they've both seen what a narc addiction can do to a man. Some get off easily, some even make a rich party habit out of it, some people get all the breaks and some just don't care. But Freddy Newendyke cares, he cares about Lawrence Dimick and has no desire to see him mixed up in that element, no matter how casual or social. Just once is too much. On that push he turns to leave the office, giving Larry one last look before he's gone.]

[The old man takes a look at his Rolex. Okay. A minute starts now. He pulls out his handkerchief to wipe his forehead. A little sweat there. That doesn't take as long as he'd hope even when he takes extra care to meticulously fold it back into place. Twenty more seconds. Well, the kid must have at least gone in one direction. Larry takes up both glasses and leaves the room. No Freddy in sight.

That means he went to the one in the hallway right? Larry takes a long look down the corridor as he passes into the gambling room. Gump says hello. He says hello back with a fraction of the heart. The glasses go on the nearest table. Before he knows it, he's almost sprinting to the men's room.]

[Flush!

There goes all the cocaine. The $20 he's still keeping. Sure dollars don't count for much in this world but they can always give it back as a friendly gesture or exchange currency or keep it with the diamonds for the day they return. Nobody takes payment in diamonds in LA, nobody. Not fair equal trade payment anyway.]

[The door hits the tile when he pushes it open. For a moment he almost says the kid's name, his real name, out loud. Coherent brain activity is at an all time low. He doesn't see Freddy out in the open of the bathroom down the hall.

Maybe he chose another one. Fuck.]

...kid?

[Larry's voice surprises him--nearly startles him because he's handling drugs. It's a habit okay? A floppy blonde head pops out of the larger handicap stall. Everyone knows it's not really this big to fit a wheelchair.]

Yeah?

[Who else would be calling him 'kid'?] Everything okay?

[He's there in two steps holding the door open and looking around. The toilet. The floor. The kid. His hands.]

It's gone?

[Okay. So the battle's not over yet is it? Green eyes look straight at brown ones as he points to the toilet bowl.]

Gone. I still got this though.

[He holds up the bill and it's clean as a whistle. Sorry Larry. No actually he's not sorry at all.]

log post II

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