Hello! Well, this is my first ever Reservoir Dogs fic- I hope you like it! This is set before the heist ^^
The bar was bright, noisy and hazy with smoke. Freddy coughed into the back of his hand; yes he smoked, and on difficult cases he had been known to smoke up to five packs a day- but even this was making him feel sick.
The room was full of smoky purple and red lights, and the smell of alcohol stuck to everything. Freddy was sitting alone in a booth, one hand cupped round an empty pint glass. The leather seat
was slick with perspiration and spilt beer, and Freddy was seriously regretting his agreement to drink in this dive- but Mr White had insisted, and who was Freddy to argue?
The man in question was just coming back to the table, a bottle of beer in one hand, and a tumbler or Bourbon in the other; his drink of choice.
Freddy never understood Whisky; the need to drink it so much, the way it seemed to make the people who drank it violent and messy, or regretful and morose. One drink seemed to create too many problems; Freddy was sticking to beer, even when he grew to sixty and it was seen as socially acceptable to drink it.
On the other hand, this liquid did seem to have the marvellous quality of making a man's tongue loose, very loose…..and tonight Freddy was counting on it.
Mr White walked back to the booth, only staggering a little. 'Here you are, kid…..number…..'
'Four.' Finished Freddy, clinking his bottle with the older man as he sat opposite him.
'Four? Huh, seems we had more….' Mr White frowned, but he drank nonetheless, the chink of ice against his teeth sounded loud and clear.
'It's this place, makes you feel fucking drunk before you've even had one!' Freddy chuckled, taking a swig and looking around.
'Hey watch it, I drink here all the time, and there's nothing fucking wrong with this place!' Mr White snapped, before he chuckled as Freddy put a hand up as if apologising.
'If you say so, although it's not my type of place….' Freddy grinned, shaking his head and sitting back.
'Oh yeah? Where do you drink then? Somewhere fucking posh with squashy seats and girls giving you lap dances every five seconds?'
'There's a place round here like that?!' Freddy sat up, looking around as if to spot it. Mr White burst into laughter, shaking his head at the joke.
'Kid, you crack me up.' He muttered, before taking another gulp of Whisky.
Freddy grinned, happy he was getting somewhere with this crook- if he could keep up the rapport between them, this case was already half done.
He looked up to see Mr White staring at him in the half-light, a strange look on his face.
'What?' he asked, suddenly and absurdly self- conscious; the man had a knack for looking like he was staring straight into his soul.
Mr White shook his head, emptying his tumbler. 'Nothing, don't worry….'
'No, you can't go fuckin' staring at me and not say why-what, have I got something on my face?' Freddy asked, patting down his cheeks to make sure he didn't have any of his dinner on them.
Mr White chuckled, sitting up straighter. 'No, you aint got nothing on your face- you just reminded me of someone, that's all…want another drink?' he asked, nodding at the half-finished bottle in Freddy's hand.
'Uh, yeah, go on then- you can tell me after!' he said, nodding a thanks as Mr White ambled off to the bar.
He put his bottle down and sunk his head into his hand, resting on his elbow. He and Mr White had been getting personal lately- talking generally about things they liked, what they didn't, some hazy aspects of their past; Freddy knew he wasn't to talk too much, and it wasn't like Mr White was an open book.
He didn't really want to know who Mr White thought he resembled; he didn't want to get compared to a crook, or some bastard who shot up a street or something; he'd just rather not know.
A couple of minutes later and the man was back, this time with a pint for Freddy and a double shot for himself. Freddy widened his eyes, before chuckling.
'You alright?' he muttered, draining the rest of his previous bottle.
'Course I am, why the fuck wouldn't I be?'
'Hey don't be like that, it was only a question.' Freddy shot back, quick as lightening.
Mr White softened, chuckling lightly. 'Sorry Kid, it's just been a rough week.'
'Oh yeah? Some bitch giving you hassle? Want me to sort her out, good and proper like?' Freddy grinned, raising his eyebrows.
'No, nothing like that….' Mr White now looked like the morose person that Freddy was thinking about; he circled his tumbler in his hands, watching the ice clink into the glass.
Freddy frowned, unusual sympathy tinging- he knew he shouldn't care, shouldn't even allow himself a single caring emotion for this guy, but…something about the way he stared into his glass made Freddy feel a jolt of sympathy. Something was bothering him, and the part of him that wasn't a cop wanted to know what.
He leaned forward slowly, bottle in hand. 'You gonna tell me or do I have to beat it out of you?' he muttered.
'Beat me? Boy- if you ever hit me, make sure you do it so hard I never wake up, cos if I do get up, you are never gonna walk again!' Mr White growled, before smirking as Freddy chuckled and averted his gaze.
'Alright, so I won't beat you- what's eating you then?' he asked, sitting back.
The older man sighed, taking another gulp of liquid before clearing his throat. 'It happened a while ago, don't know why I'm even still thinking about it…' he muttered.
'It must be pretty bad, though?'
Mr White sighed and shook his head a little. 'It's your fault….' He said, and he seemed deadly serious.
Freddy nearly choked on his beer. 'Wait, what?' he stammered, coughing.
'It is- you come in, a young guy, his whole life ahead of him, and it just reminds me of my own boy….' The older man's voice trailed off, and he took another swig.
Freddy frowned inwardly; he had only had time to do a quick skim of Larry's notes, and hadn't even looked at his family history. 'Oh.' Was all he could say, and he sat back further, not knowing what else to say.
Mr White nodded, clearing his throat. He looked behind Freddy and into the bar beyond, but Freddy noticed his eyes kept flicking back to his own.
'You wanna talk about it?' he asked, voice low.
'No I don't want to fucking talk about it!' Mr White snapped, but he softened as he caught Freddy's expression.
'I'm sorry, kid- I guess it's still raw…..'
'Did he die?' Freddy asked, earnestly wanting to know more.
Mr White sighed, and nodded his head with a tiny jerk.
'Ah….I'm sorry man.' Was all Freddy could say.
'I don't need any fucking sympathy or any fucking pity- don't you go sorrying me anymore!' Mr White growled, eyes threatening.
'Chill man, I was just saying….'
'Well don't!' I don't usually talk about anything to do it my family, but with you….I don't know, I feel I can trust you.' He muttered, shaking his head. 'God knows why….' He finished.
'Thanks, I guess.' Freddy muttered, conflicting emotions now fluttering in his head- on one hand he wanted to be there for Larry as a friend, almost like the confidant the man thought he was, but on the other he wanted to gather as much info on this bastard as he could; this sort of info could be juicy material for interrogations.
'You don't have to tell me man; I'll just pretend you didn't say anything….' He said, taking another swig of his pint.
Mr White sighed, wiping a hand down his face. 'He was about your age, maybe younger, since you haven't told me how old you are- he was on his way to a great career, was making good money, had a beautiful girlfriend.' He started, looking Freddy full in the face, as if wanting him to say something.
Freddy nodded, but didn't know what to say to the guy; he didn't want to upset him even more, as he didn't know what Larry would be like with high emotions.
'We went to the store one day; I was working a job out of town- he didn't know what I do, see. We were just looking round when suddenly someone pulls a gun on us.' Mr White cleared his throat, taking another gulp and draining his glass- instead of walking to the bar he just waved his empty glass at the direction of the barman, and sat back, sighing.
'I'm sorry man, sounds rough….' Freddy muttered.
'He died in my arms, bleeding and screaming. Sometimes, when I'm lying in bed, I can still hear it….' Mr White chuckled wetly. 'Look at me, blubbing like a fucking baby.' He growled, wiping the corners of his eyes.
'It's alright, man. I won't tell no-one…' Freddy muttered, giving him a smile.
'I don't give a shit what you do; don't make no difference to me.' Mr White said, not looking up as his refilled glass was placed in front of him by the barman.
'You remind me of him- the way he could make any choice, the whole world in front of him…..why are you doing this, kid?' he asked, head snapping up.
The question took Freddy completely by surprise; he floundered for a second before regaining some composure. 'For the money, you know? I can't get a job, got no family….this is the only way, you know?' he replied, the lies coming easy to him.
'I know kid, I really do- but there are other ways.'
'Like what? No one pays as well as Joe- I'm literally this far from going under.' Freddy motioned a centimetre with his fingers.
Mr White nodded and cleared his throat. 'Joe is a good man; he's pretty good when it comes to money.'
'I know…..it's not like I grew up thinking that one day I'm going to be a thief and a criminal, was it?' Freddy continued, chuckling darkly.
'I don't think any of us grew up thinking that.' Mr White agreed, before sipping from his glass.
They sat back, each contemplating the conversation. 'Don't worry kid, I'll make sure nothing happens to you; it's almost like I'm getting a second chance with you, to make sure you're safe….something I couldn't do with my boy.'
Suddenly Freddy felt a surge of warmth for the guy, despite knowing he shouldn't. This man was dangerous, had killed and maimed people, had stolen thousands of pounds worth of gear….but here he was, bearing his soul like he was on fucking Oprah.
Almost as surprisingly, he also felt a little gratefulness that Larry was willing to look after him, to make sure nothing happened to him…..in a weird way he trusted the guy, but knew never to rely on him.
'Thanks man….' He muttered, draining his glass and sighing. He looked at his watch, before looking up at the older man. 'Time to go?' he asked, before standing up and stretching.
'You go; I'll stay here for a while.' Mr White muttered, again waving his glass.
'Gonna get plastered?' Freddy chuckled, patting Larry on the shoulder as he passed.
'And what if I am?' the older man snapped.
'Nothing, man, nothing- see you in the morning?' Freddy called back as he moved to the door.
'See you tomorrow kid, bright and early for the meeting.' Mr White muttered, already nursing his next whisky.
Freddy called back and left the bar, the cold air hitting his face. He felt his head cloud a little with the alcohol; he started to walk back to his apartment, the dark and peace a welcome contrast from the bar.
Lawrence Dimmick confused him. He guessed it was because he was trying to get so close to the man in order to infiltrate the group and get to Joe.
But the way the guy was so willing to look after him….he didn't know what to think about that. It was nice to know someone was looking out for him, had his back when his cop buddies couldn't- but the guy was a killer, a hardened, brutal killer…
Freddy sighed as his key finally got into the lock; he stumbled into his apartment, flinging his keys onto the table. He managed to get to his bed without incident, and he sat on the covers, confused.
Shaking his head, he decided to just let things progress, to just ride out the case and see what happened.
Nothing bad was going to happen to him anyway, so Larry would have no need to fulfil his promises to protect him. It was all going to go to the plan, and he was pretty sure it would all be over soon.
Now it was only a waiting game…..
I hope you enjoyed this!
Thanks for reading!