Content Warning: misogynistic and racist language
Orange was worried.
His feet pounded against the hard stone paving tiles. The cool early morning air, thick with fog rolling in off the bay, filled his lungs. His arms and legs warmed with the simple rhythms of physical motion. HIs mind, however, refused to fall into the same clean rhythm.
Jenny said she had a plan. A plan to get them closer to the secrets Genie was hunting. Closer to the criminals, the violent, dangerous men lurking in that shadow world ordinary people pretended didn't exist.
Damn it, why did they have to be anywhere near that world?! Why did Jenny? He knew he should support her, but a strong part of him just wanted her to be safe. He was shocked by the intensity of his own feelings for her, which only added to his worries.
The police and public safety agencies are supposed to protect us from criminals, he thought.
Of course, he knew those agencies failed sometimes. Failed some people.
Corrie.
He looked at the bench where he'd met that wounded, frightened woman. Had it really only been last week? The women's shelter hadn't heard from her. He'd checked. She was out there somewhere. Out there... with George T. A rapist and murderer. One of the criminals Jenny and Genie were trying to get closer to.
He knew that he couldn't just charge in and save everyone. He knew it, but he had to do something!
"Excuse me, sir," Orange called out, hailing a fellow jogger. "You run here a lot, don't you?"
"Yeah," the crew-cut man replied cautiously.
"Maybe you can help me," Orange said, pulling out his phone, "I'm looking for someone I met around here a few days ago. Does this woman look familiar?"
"Dude, she's hot," the jogger said. "I see why you're looking for her but... sorry. Don't know her."
"Thanks anyway," Orange said. He'd keep looking.
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Damien watched the big man jogging off as he pulled out his phone.
"Hey, George. I got a guy down here asking about Corrie," he said coolly. "Yeah, he's showing her picture around."
He listened calmly to the angry reply.
"So," he said at last, "what do want me to do, boss?"
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Well, that didn't work, Orange thought.
He'd shown Corrie's picture to other joggers and to people leaving for early shifts, or returning from late ones. A couple of them vaguely remembered seeing a woman who might have been Corrie around the neighborhood, but no one was sure. No one knew her. He shouldn't be surprised, he supposed. He'd be hard pressed to recognize his own next door neighbors if they met outside of the building.
Finally, he'd decided that he needed to hit the gym and clear his head. His arms and legs burned as he threw himself into a heavy lifting routine. The pure physicality of it usually calmed him, focused his mind.
It wasn't really helping.
A woman's voice cut through his racing thoughts. "Well, aren't you a tall, refreshing drink o' water."
"Morning... ma'am," he grunted as he finished up his routine.
"Oh, please don't call me 'ma'am,'" the dark-haired woman laughed. "You'll make me feel old."
"Sorry," he said, amused despite his worries.
Really, it wasn't that unusual for women to approach him at the gym. It was kind of flattering actually, and had been the heart of his dating life. Of course, he and Jenny were... actually, they hadn't really defined what they were yet.
"I'm Betty," the dark-haired woman said, as he finished his routine.
"Orange," he replied with a friendly smile.
"Orange?" Betty asked. They always asked.
"When I was born, my mom was out of it on painkillers," he replied with a smile. "So the nurse asked my dad what he wanted... on the birth certificate. He misheard her, and thought she was asking what he wanted to drink. So he said 'orange.'"
"You just made that up," Betty laughed.
"I did," Orange admitted.
"Well, Orange, I guess you really are a tall, refreshing drink," Betty said.
"I guess so," Orange laughed.
"Well, my tall refreshing drink, I just finished my workout," Betty said. "I was thinking of relaxing in the steam room... but I'm never very comfortable doing that when I'm all alone."
"You're not here with anyone?" Orange asked.
"No," she said with a gentle purr. "Are you... with... anyone?"
"I... I am... dating someone right now," Orange stammered. Why did this woman made him feel like a stammering teen, one who was suddenly very aware of how tight workout pants were. "I mean, not right now... she's not here now... but I am... with... I mean..."
"Oh, aren't you gallant," Betty said brightly. "Well, then I think I'll feel quite safe with you, my gallant young knight. If you would like to join me."
"Umm... alright," Orange nodded. A deep breath seemed to clear his flustered feelings. "I promise I won't do anything ungentlemanly."
"Well, a girl can hope," Betty said with a teasing little grin.
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"Yeah boss," Damien said. "I followed him to a gym... Luxe Health and Fitness on Gilbert. That's right boss."
Actually, Damien thought, it was a pretty nice gym. He wondered if he could afford the membership fees.
"Yeah, I got a name," Damien answered the boss's next question. "Get this... it's Orange Bailey-Moon. Yeah. No shit. That Orange Bailey-Moon."
As if there could be two, he thought. What kind of person names their kid Orange, anyway?
"Yeah, I'll keep an eye on him."
-------------
Actually, the steam room was turning out to be a good idea. At least his racing thoughts and worries had settled down.
OK, Betty's flirtatious teasing was a little distracting, but maybe he'd needed a little distraction. Just a little. While he and Jenny hadn't really established what their relationship was, or what its boundaries were, he definitely felt that hooking up with flirty dark-haired women he met at the gym wasn't appropriate. Probably.
He and Jenny should really have a talk.
"Orange Bailey-Moon," a man's rough voice growled.
Orange had distantly noted the door of the steam room opening and someone coming in. He hadn't paid much attention. It wasn't unusual for people to come in.
He turned to look at the man. Middle aged, looking a little soft over muscle, like an athlete who'd let himself go. Livid old burn scars covered his arms and chest. Another scar, maybe an old knife wound, traced a line over his eye.
It actually took him a moment to recognize the man, the monster, he'd only seen in a picture.
"I almost didn't believe it when Damien told me," George T chuckled coldly. "You know, you actually won me $500. That championship match against Foxbury. That was epic, boy."
"George T," Orange said, rising to confront the man.
"Corrie tell you my name?" George growled lightly. "That girl talks too much... but I put up with it 'cause she does better things with that pretty mouth."
The heat of Orange's sudden rage was stifling. He focused on his breathing, on keeping his cool. He'd been the biggest and strongest, ever since he'd been a teen. The need to keep his body from breaking things, hurting people, had taught him to be gentle, to stay in control. He called on all that control now.
"Yeah, I heard you were asking about my Corrie," George continued. "I mean, I don't blame you. She's a nice little piece of ass... and she's a real screamer. Don't you just love a screamer?"
"What do you want?" Orange said, focusing on each word carefully.
"The question is what do you want, boy?" the brutal gangster replied. "You're going around, asking about something that belongs to me. That's not right. Don't piss in my pool, boy."
"She's not a thing." Orange couldn't hold back the snarl.
"Right," George scoffed. "Your whole 'Yes means No, No means Yes' thing. I tell you something boy. You slap 'em hard enough, you can get any bitch to say yes."
"You should leave," Orange said softly.
"You threatening me, boy?" George actually laughed. "'Cause that would be a bad idea. Those steroids messing with your head? I bet they shriveled up your dick too. That your problem, boy? Can't get it up for your own girl but you think you can sniff around mine?
"I'm giving you a one-time free pass," George continued, turning his back on Orange and opening the door. "'Cause I owe you... for that championship game. Stay away from Corrie, and we won't have a problem. You come around pissing in my pool again, and we will. You get it, boy? Yeah, you get it."
Deep breaths, Orange thought. Keep control.
"I'm sorry, Betty," Orange said at last. "I need to go. Can I walk you to your car, or is there someone you can call? I don't think he'll bother you, but..."
"Don't you worry about me, my white knight," Betty purred. "I can take care of myself... but if it will make you feel better, I can call my boys to look after me. I was hoping to ask you meet me tonight. To see about that drink... but no. Looks like you have a damsel to rescue. Good luck, my white knight. I'll be cheering for you."
