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Mr. Orange
"Your hair smells like grapefruit," you tell Freddy, rising from your position on the couch to get a glass of water.
"Oh, yeah? It's my new shampoo."
"It's nice." You look at him from the kitchen, his posture rigid as he bounces his leg and looks out the window. "Something up?"
"No, no. I mean . . ." He turns around to face you. "Yeah. I have this new undercover job."
You stop moving to stare at him. "For real?"
Freddy nods. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. "For real. I ran it over with Holdaway the other night."
"Is this big?" You ask. You walk back towards him, falling on the couch beside and wrapping your arm around him.
"Super big," he replies. "It's a robbery. This is gonna put Cabot away."
You reach to play with his hair, trying to distract yourself on the reality of him and not the worries that gnaw your bones. "Your story's rock solid?"
"Yeah, I'm a weed dealer. I play it cool all the time."
"You'll play it cool at the robbery , too?"
He gives you a soft look, big eyes heavy lidded. "Hey, don't worry. I'm good at what I do."
"I know, Freddy. . . Let me hold you for a little bit longer." You tug him closer and he relents. His shirt, well-worn, is soft on your arm. He holds you tight as you breathe deeply. The grapefruit soothes you.
Mr. White
"Something new's come up," Larry says when he picks you up from work.
"What'd'ya mean?" You wiggle yourself into the passenger seat, your bag stuffed between your legs on the floorboard.
"Work-wise, y'know."
"Oh, yeah?" You grin. Every time he has something new, and things work out well, it puts him in a good mood. He turns soft and vulnerable to your wants.
"It's gonna be a bunch of us this time. And Joe wants it anonymous. We won't know each other."
You reach to turn down the radio at Larry's words. "How are you gonna trust them, then?"
"Thieves' honor."
It takes a spike of incredulity to make you look at him. He's wearing a smirk that makes you roll your eyes. "Whatever, Larry. Be careful."
"I'm usually the one telling you that."
"Yeah, well this time, it's the other way around." You leave it at that. But somewhere in the warbling part of your gut, you don't know what you'd do without him. You bite your lip and watch the road ahead as he drives on.
Mr. Blonde
You get a call at home from a payphone. Vic's voice is on the other line.
