orangetoughguy | phone post

[The handgun disappears as soon as it came to be. He needs both hands to wad up the wax paper that kept his taco bits from going all over the interior of his Lincoln.]

Not great the whole time. Let's be real here. "Playground in my Mind" isn't what you want to keep playing five years from now.

[Right now Elvin Bishop is wrapping up with his fooling around. That one takes Larry back. He shifts in his seat to take a deep sip of his can of coke. The roach coach truck is merging into the street leaving them in the lot with the growing shadows.]

Which one's that?

[Freddy has to ask because it's not something he'd want to remember really, especially as a seven year old hah. Briefly he glances over to the departing trick, it leaves them in the lot with the growing shadows. Alone.]

Starts off with all this la la la shit and sorta carnival music. It's about this asshole who kinda mentally retreats to a place where kids can run around. There's kids singing in it too. I'm sure it's all meant to be in good fun but it sorta rubs you the wrong way.

[Larry doesn't think a thing of it. Just time passing by. If he did think it over he would realize that he has blown a whole day with Mr. Orange. Not all of it has been work, they have been just coasting and spending more and more time with one another. It's so easy to do with a willing party. The man really could say he wants to be taken home at any time and...he doesn't.]

[White's description makes the kid laugh. It's kind of a ridiculous sound, about as ridiculous as the song in question. Jesus it's goddamn easy to forget everything else outside of this car when he's with Lawrence Dimick. Uh, Mr. White.]

That's pretty crazy.

[It's clearly not K-Billy spinning when the needle hits the next record. Freddy doesn't recognize it by the piano keys alone. Not yet anyway.]

[The more time together the more Mr. White knows he likes Mr. Orange enough to want these excursions.]

Fucking terrible, that's what it is. You don't want that shit going. I'm glad you don't know it.

[And it cannot be because of age alone. That's what he tells himself. Oh ho. What's this? A new tune. He turns up the volume just a little.]

I might've heard it once or twice.

[He shrugs, still grinning. Now that the lady's got a chance to get a few words in the kid just kind of looks at the old man, like he's waiting for Larry to show his true colors: keep it or change it? What kind of man is Mr. White.]

I'd kill for once or twice.

[Miss Summer has had her chance to slip in. Larry bobs his head a little as the disco riff starts to sweep under her voice.]

This one too, it's been a while.

[He's not changing it. Even though the first lady he thinks of with longing isn't the lady of disco.]

Has a beat you can dance to you know.

I know what song this is.

[Freddy insists in case his awareness was being questioned. Fff. It does kind of surprise him that Mr. White would be fond of this one, then again not so much because it's Donna Summer.]

Oh yeah? You dance or something? To this?

[At the disco? Of course mess with the bull and you get the horns.]

[Who the fuck alive doesn't care for Donna Summer? Anyone who says different is lying because some how or another that music was in the background growing up. Or just fucking going through life.]

I could. [He answers with casual, solid pride because what is the kid going to do about that? Nothing that will work. The more he thinks on it and the beat carries on the old man nods his head with more certainty.]

Could you?

[Being on the spot like this is not easy. Not easy at all. Fortunately it is growing darker so maybe White won't notice the flush of color to his faintly freckled cheeks.]

I dunno.

[What a dumb as fuck answer, Newendyke. For the record though he doesn't blame Miss Summer at all.]

[The only sound in the car for at least a line or two is the song. Cars pass but they're going too fast to make out or even hear that well.]

Do you want to see?

[Larry phrases it so carefully because even he himself isn't sure for a few beats that it's a good idea. Well. Why the fuck not. It's only a song. And after fucking what sort of hang ups could possibly be had?]

Uh.

[What do you say to a question like that coming from a man like Mr. White? Is Freddy overthinking it? Haven't they been fucking? But what if it doesn't mean what he thinks it means and oh shit you're an undercover cop, Newendyke.]

I dunno I can try it's just a dance.

[He blurts out. It's just a dance it's just a dance. That's what he said in highschool too.]

Uh huh. Just a dance.

[If it makes him feel better to say it and hear it back. Larry steps out of the car. The windows are rolled down so the car stays on. He turns up the sound just a little more. The ditty keeps on going he tries not to look so eager. Compared to fucking what the hell is a dance?

Lawrence Dimick hasn't had a long history of dancing with gents. Bama loved this song. She would sing into her hair brush or on those nights when she took the wheel it would be her Donna Summer tape playing. Isn't it nice how all the positive things surface with enough time and not the screaming or busted bottles.

He waits until Freddy meets him on the passenger side. They've got the car blocking the street and behind them is the mural. Shadows are all around. The nearest street light is at the corner. Private is what you'd call it.]

[Nope. Sorry. It doesn't really make him feel better at all. In fact it gives Freddy butterflies in his stomach and this is a young man who's pretty sure his is made of dwarf-forged iron. That's saying something. He doesn't say or do much of anything else until White's right there waiting. You've bitten off more than you can chew, dude. He crumples up his wrapper, wipes his hands, then climbs out.]

So what kind of dance are we gonna do?

[No hands touching? Just a boogie? Oh please oh please let there be touching.]

Tell you what, we'll start small.

[Older experienced eyes can tell that he's not completely confident in the exercise. The biggest step is saying yes. Being the man to make the challenge dictates that Mr. White take the lead. Without asking and going into motion he takes one of Freddy's hands to put on his shoulder the other one he puts at his waist. Unlike last night there won't be any desperate clutching or scratching there.]

I step, you come on after.

[With the music still wheeling and no resistance Larry keeps them going from the first step to a sway.]

Okay.

[Freddy answers with that characteristic mix of confidence and deference, almost like the first time he consented to letting Mr. White play with his cock. Hands on each other only deepens the color in his face. It's not just clawing and scratching as they fuck each other's brains out and that's what puts more at stake. He follows the old man's motions as instructed, keeping the pace but a little stiff because he's not sure he's doing it right.]

There. Doin' fine. Loosen up. [He cranes his neck to look down at their feet some. This also let's him speak softly and still be heard.] Nobody's here but me and Donna.

[Does the kid think he's gonna call it quits because he's got nerves? It's only a dance. That's the third time it's repeated. He can make out Mr. Orange's expression but he doesn't say a thing as they keep up the motion. It's not a boogie that's for sure.]

You're not doing so bad by my count.

[Just him and Donna. Donna and Mr. White. Lawrence Dimick. And Freddy Newendyke. Well, Mr. Orange to him. He's noticed they don't even use their codenames sometimes, just 'you' and the occasional 'baby'. Shit was it easy to fall head over heels for this old man.]

It's not my first time.

[Freddy insists, because it's not! He's danced this close with other people before. It's also kind of a joke, something to give Orange confidence. He might not have the moves nailed down but he's got a mouth on him.]

Thanks anyway...

['You' for when other people are around. 'Baby' in his head, in the dark and maybe even right now. Orange is who he is, Larry will know eventually. They gotta play by the rules at least until the heist. Then they'll be all clear. Except the old man is sure that even when he does learn this man's real name he may still be 'baby'.

Larry snickers.]

I can tell this ain't your first time. You're not that tense.

[Or tight. He shakes his head and clears his throat.]

You wanna quit already?

[Mr. White hasn't let go yet nor has he stopped their swaying. On the radio woah oh oh keeps repeating like the song won't end.]

What? No.

[Orange responds like he's almost offended White would even consider him defeated so soon. Bullshit. As long as the veteran crook is going to keep snickering at him the new guy is going to keep dancing. Yeah, that's what Freddy tells himself, now it's a game and games make everything seem a little less serious.]

Is this a special tune or just a special lady?

[Brown sugar and all.]

A bit of both.

[Orange couldn't know what sort of a lady. Donna is a darling to Mr. White. Brown sugar has always been a favorite flavor. Except he keeps on having that old flame flicker into his thoughts like a bad penny. Who knows what it is. Larry's not a big enough fool to believe it isn't over. Over was a long time ago even. Why should he bother even breathing a word when they're having themselves a good time?

He sighs and brights his partner closer.]

Ever think about the words, man?

[Baby.]

It's a mighty convenient wrap up to have someone else sum up all the shit you wanna say to the person who should hear it and it works out.

[Oof. The closeness is nice. Real real nice. Fortunately Larry's talking again and that distracts Freddy enough to not glow bright like a fucking stoplight.]

Yeah it's hard when you've got one chick telling you she's heard it on the radio then you've got another saying you probably think this song is about you.

[Women. Fff. Finally the kid seizes a brief moment to lead a step or two.]

[Hard to see without direct light but there might be heat radiating off the guys face like gamma radiation or something.]

Sounds like you've been there before.

[He's surprised but does not fight Freddy's lead at all. Larry knew he had it in him. Mr. Orange is a laid back guy who can take charge any time he likes.]

I listen to a lot of music. [Freddy reasons ever so casually.] Good and bad.

[He lifts his shoulders in another shrug. His lead's starting to relax, almost like his guard coming down. Technically it was down the moment they met.]

Me too.

[It's what any one could say, the older man really, really means it. Donna can't last forever. For a minute he panics thinking the moment is broken. Not so. The DJ at K-Billy is on their side. Rainy Night in Georgia hits the waves with the wavering sweet guitar riff.]

Y'like this one better?

[Who's leading and who's following? It's all sort of coming together and they sway. Mr. White pulls the kid on nearer. Body contact on an already warm night isn't all about friction and force. They're in Los Angeles, it won't rain.]

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