I can haz titles now.
The string quartet thing has a title: "The Glorious Wine." It ain't perfect, but it'll do. So we've had Prologue and two chapters, and this makes chapter three. Here we go again: WIP, no promises of completion, unbetaed, and all other various and sundry warnings, apply as needed. Will have some music shortly, as well.
Chapter Three
As soon as he could, he called Chris.
"I've never heard of this guy. Have you?"
"Name like Ackles? It's kinda unusual."
Jared laughed a little, and thought he sounded unhinged. He sure as hell felt unhinged. "I'm serious, Chris, this guy's playing --" He stopped and shook his head, folding himself into a chair. "Who is he? What's his story?"
"No idea, but I can ask around." Chris sounded amused. "You sound like a fan already."
"Shit, man, I'm not sure -- I'm not sure I've ever heard anyone play like that. The tone -- it's like silver, and he's got technique coming out his ass."
"There's a treatment for that, you know."
"Dude, seriously. Seriously. I'm in Egypt here, you gotta ask around."
Chris laughed and said, "All right, I will, Sparky, calm down. So it's going all right?"
Jared leaned back in the chair. "Well, next to this guy I sound like a freshman at a community college, but other than that -- Yeah, it's all right. You were right; the conductor's pretty cool. Knows his shit."
"Engel's old-school. German, Austrian, something."
"Chris, I gotta know about this guy. What the hell is he doing in Midland? Dawn would have an EMBOLISM over him, I shit you not."
There was an eloquent pause, then Chris: "Must be pretty."
Stung, Jared said, "Why do you say that?"
"I've met you?"
"Chris --"
"Naw, you just go all hetero most of the time, and you only dust off the inner homo when you meet someone extra pretty. That's all."
"Homo? Do you realize how that sounds?"
"My friend, I work in classical music. Believe me, I know. So, is he?"
Jared huffed. "Is he what."
"Pretty."
Jared gnawed on his lip, then muttered, "Very."
Chris laughed until Jared hung up on him.
But he did come through. Two hours later -- during which Jared watched a movie he couldn't follow and thought about the man who'd looked and played like an angel -- Chris called him back.
"I don't got much."
"Whatever. Gimme."
Jensen Ackles, it turned out, was a homeboy, too, born and raised around Dallas. Since he'd only said about twenty words in either of their two rehearsals that day, Jared hadn't heard any accent, but his own had faded with time and lack of proximity, so it wasn't foolproof.
What was more interesting was the rest of it.
"He's like some kinda -- prodigy, something."
Jared blinked. "Prodigy. Prodigy?"
"Get this: He was Gunter Lehmann's last student."
"Lehmann --"
"Like REALLY old school. Guy was buds with von Karajan, Bernstein. He turned out half the Berlin Phil players before he emigrated to the states. People waited years to study with him. He only took two students at any one time."
"Yeah?" Jared said, leaning forward. "And?"
"And about ten, twelve years ago there was this buzz about this new kid he was teaching. Last one of the line, whatever. Maybe the best one. So this Ackles guy was it."
"He's not that young, Chris. I mean, twenty-five, thirty. He's not a kid."
"No, he dropped off the map after Lehmann died. This big mystery, because the guy had the world on a string, you know? Gotta excuse the pun."
Jared nodded slowly at his phone. "And now he's playing in Midland."
"I asked around. Nobody's heard him, just heard OF him, a few of them."
"Whatever they say, it isn't enough," Jared said, shaking his head. "You have to hear him."
"I'll take your word for it."
"Come down," Jared said impulsively. "You're back from California, I know you don't have much going on right now. Come down to Texas."
Chris was silent for a second. Then, slowly, he said, "Guy's a soloist, Jare. He isn't going to want to play in a quartet."
"Not for that. Just -- I want you to hear him."
"I dunno --"
"You can hold my hand in the green room before the concert. Tell me I played flat, whatever. Trust me."
"Okay," Chris said cautiously. "He's that good, huh."
Jared drew a long breath. "But there's something else going on. I mean, why isn't he everywhere? And why'd he disappear for years?"
"Maybe he found something better to do."
Jared couldn't think of any reply to that, and after a moment Chris gave a low laugh. "Yeah, okay, never mind. Friday?"
"Two concerts, Friday and Saturday."
"You're insane."
"No," Jared said with a smile, "I'm really, really not."
~~~~~~~~~
The next morning's rehearsal went better. In part because Jensen proved he actually spoke English. If infrequently, and in a low murmur Jared sometimes had trouble hearing.
Engel had left them alone to argue tempi, work it out between them, and Jared nodded and shrugged while Jensen mumbled about how 25 needed to be adagio but not so slow it was actually decomposing -- hah -- until Jared finally asked, "Man, are you nervous?"
Jensen blinked rapidly at him, hazel eyes looking very green with his white shirt, and blurted, "A little."
"Relax, okay? It's just rehearsal. We'll work it out." Jared smiled. "And yes, I think we were a little slow last run-through. You have the melody; pull me with you."
Jensen bit his lip briefly. "Pull you."
"Make me go along with you. Do your own thing. Trust me; I'll follow you."
"And...that's all?"
With a laugh Jared said, "That's all. I promise. Come on, let's try it."
The passage came to life with a little brighter tempo, a flicker of new confidence in Jensen's playing. He was smiling when they came to a bridge. "You're right," he breathed. "It worked."
"It's like sitting first chair, right? You have to bring people along with you sometimes. You gotta know how that feels, right? Think about orchestral playing."
Jensen kept his eyes on the score. "I haven't done that," he said.
Jared frowned. "Do what?"
"Play. In an orchestra, I mean."
For a second Jared couldn't think of anything at all to say. "You've never played in an orchestra?" he finally managed.
Jensen shook his head.
"Ever?"
"I wanted to. My teacher said it would ruin my tone."
Jared sat back, laying his bow across the rickety music stand. "Well, I mean -- You learn so much from ensemble playing. You want to blend, yes, but -- I can't imagine it ruining anything."
A flush now stained Jensen's cheeks; he looked acutely uncomfortable. "He was pretty strict."
Jared cleared his throat. "Yeah, I guess. So where'd you go to school?"
"I didn't, really. I mean, I had tutors."
Jared drew a breath, and then Engel bustled in, score flapping in his bony hands, and it was back to the second movement, this time with no hesitation at all at bar 25. Jared darted a fast glance at Jensen, and saw the tiny smile on his lips.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"So you wanna grab some lunch? Gotta be someplace walking distance, you think?"
Jensen looked around them. "I don't know if --"
"Jensen, there you are." The tall woman from yesterday walked up, a brief smile for Jensen, an assessing look at Jared. "We're having lunch with John, remember?" She gestured to the door, a car outside at the curb.
Jensen glanced at Jared. "Maybe next time," he said softly, eyes crinkling in a brief smile.
"Yeah," Jared said. "Next time."
"I'll be out in a second," the woman told Jensen, and waited expectantly for him to walk away. When he did, she turned that sharp look at Jared once again. "I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Ingrid, Jensen's manager."
Her hand was cool and her fingers pressed his tightly, once. "Kinda wondered," he said awkwardly.
"We appreciate your coming down on such short notice. I was sorry to hear about your violinist. A terrible tragedy."
The words sounded sincere; the distance in her blue eyes made it more dubious. "Yes," Jared said thinly. "It was. Is."
She lifted her chin. "Not to be too direct, Jared, but you should know that Jensen is a bit preoccupied with this upcoming performance. It might be best to keep social engagements to a minimum. We are here to play, after all, not party."
"It's lunch," Jared said. "Not a debutante ball."
"Perhaps not for you," she replied evenly. "But Jensen has a tremendous career ahead of him, and it requires all of his focus. Surely you understand that, even if, well."
Jared forced a smile that felt like it was drawing blood. "If, well?"
"I mean, a quartet doesn't exactly demand the same of you as a solo career would. You understand."
"I'm pretty sure I don't," he gritted out.
Now her smile looked genuine, and cold as ice. "I'm sure you will soon enough, Jared," she said lightly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm almost late for lunch."
"Can't have that," Jared muttered at her receding back.
It took ten minutes for him to calm down enough to think about something to eat. By that time, he wasn't at all surprised to find he wasn't hungry anymore.
~~~~~~~~~~
Tuning, Jensen leaned slightly toward him and said, "She's sort of a bitch."
Jared glared at his cello. "Sort of?"
"She's scared I'll flake out again."
Jared stopped glaring and looked at him. "Flake out? What --"
"I get nervous." Jensen shrugged and sounded another open G. "Used to get really nervous. It's better now. But she's sorta protective."
"Jensen, I'm pretty sure she'd make a Doberman look like a lap dog by comparison."
For the first time since he'd met him, he saw Jensen grin. Blazing, startling. "Maybe."
Dazzled, Jared blinked and said, "No maybe about it."
"I can invent something for her to do tomorrow. If you still want to, you know."
Jared smiled. "'You know' meaning lunch?"
Jensen ducked his head, but he was still grinning. "Meaning that, yeah," he mumbled.
"Deal."
Whatever the reasons, the afternoon rehearsal went beautifully, the best kind of practice time, when everyone's on the same page, and the results are so exciting you can't wait to perform, to show them to others. Jared felt stronger, more confident, and he only had to look at Jensen to know he felt it, too. Maybe still some awareness that Jensen was world-class, that Jared might not be the next Yo-Yo Ma, but he was holding his own, and better.
"10:00 tomorrow, with the orchestra," Engel told them, a satisfied smile on his lean face. "I tell you honestly, I can't wait. Beautiful, simply beautiful."
Putting away their instruments, Jared said, "Got plans tonight? Or is the Doberman whisking you away?"
Jensen uttered a sharp laugh. "Probably."
"But lunch tomorrow."
"Yeah. Okay."
They smiled at each other, and Jared felt something warm in his belly, expectant, deeply purely pleased. Even Ingrid's sour look soon after didn't chill him.
He took himself to a steakhouse that night, ate hugely and tipped better than he should have, and when he got back to his room he didn't open his score once. Didn't need to.
Chris called around 10:00.
"So are you coming down?"
"Aw, Jare, you know --"
"You asshole. You're coming, aren't you?"
"Fuck yeah."
Jared grinned, partly relief, partly a hangover from a really good day. "My biggest fan. Awww."
"Nah, you suck, I just wanna meet Mr. Wonderful."
Jared laughed. "You'll like him. He's kinda introverted, but he's cool. Has a stone bitch for a manager, though. Jesus, I thought she was gonna go for my balls a couple of times today."
"Meaner than Dawn?"
"Pretty sure she'd be picking Dawn out from between her teeth in about five seconds flat."
"Damn. That bad."
"How's Mike?"
There was a tiny silence. "He's all right."
"Chris. Dude, is he okay?"
"He's dealing. What do you want me to say, Jared? Guy thought Tommy hung the moon."
"Yeah," Jared said slowly. "He did. Christ, what a mess."
"I've been thinking."
"First time for everything."
"No, but. Man, we need to play."
"We don't have --"
"I know we don't have anyone. I know that. But we need to motherfucking play something, because I don't know about you, Mr. Soloist, but I'm starting to forget what it was like. And that kinda scares me."
Jared swallowed over a sudden lump in his throat. "Yeah."
"I'm not shitting you, I think we need to get back in the saddle. Play some fucking trios, something. Remember why the hell we're doing this. Maybe then it won't be all so -- fucked up."
And maybe it'll be worse, Jared thought, maybe then we'll have to admit that Tommy isn't ever coming back. He isn't on vacation, he isn't home visiting family, he's gone. For good.
"Okay," he said hoarsely. "We'll play. When I get back. Find us something to play. Anything."
Chris sounded stronger when he replied, "Deal. Hey, see you Saturday."
"Aw. My teeny-tiny entourage of one."
"Fuck you, I can bring a whole claque if you want me to."
"Please don't."
"You sure? Because I got my ways."
Jared closed his eyes and grinned. "Night, Chris."
"Can I throw roses on stage?"
Jared laughed and closed his phone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TBC. Nighty-nite. EB
Chapter Three
As soon as he could, he called Chris.
"I've never heard of this guy. Have you?"
"Name like Ackles? It's kinda unusual."
Jared laughed a little, and thought he sounded unhinged. He sure as hell felt unhinged. "I'm serious, Chris, this guy's playing --" He stopped and shook his head, folding himself into a chair. "Who is he? What's his story?"
"No idea, but I can ask around." Chris sounded amused. "You sound like a fan already."
"Shit, man, I'm not sure -- I'm not sure I've ever heard anyone play like that. The tone -- it's like silver, and he's got technique coming out his ass."
"There's a treatment for that, you know."
"Dude, seriously. Seriously. I'm in Egypt here, you gotta ask around."
Chris laughed and said, "All right, I will, Sparky, calm down. So it's going all right?"
Jared leaned back in the chair. "Well, next to this guy I sound like a freshman at a community college, but other than that -- Yeah, it's all right. You were right; the conductor's pretty cool. Knows his shit."
"Engel's old-school. German, Austrian, something."
"Chris, I gotta know about this guy. What the hell is he doing in Midland? Dawn would have an EMBOLISM over him, I shit you not."
There was an eloquent pause, then Chris: "Must be pretty."
Stung, Jared said, "Why do you say that?"
"I've met you?"
"Chris --"
"Naw, you just go all hetero most of the time, and you only dust off the inner homo when you meet someone extra pretty. That's all."
"Homo? Do you realize how that sounds?"
"My friend, I work in classical music. Believe me, I know. So, is he?"
Jared huffed. "Is he what."
"Pretty."
Jared gnawed on his lip, then muttered, "Very."
Chris laughed until Jared hung up on him.
But he did come through. Two hours later -- during which Jared watched a movie he couldn't follow and thought about the man who'd looked and played like an angel -- Chris called him back.
"I don't got much."
"Whatever. Gimme."
Jensen Ackles, it turned out, was a homeboy, too, born and raised around Dallas. Since he'd only said about twenty words in either of their two rehearsals that day, Jared hadn't heard any accent, but his own had faded with time and lack of proximity, so it wasn't foolproof.
What was more interesting was the rest of it.
"He's like some kinda -- prodigy, something."
Jared blinked. "Prodigy. Prodigy?"
"Get this: He was Gunter Lehmann's last student."
"Lehmann --"
"Like REALLY old school. Guy was buds with von Karajan, Bernstein. He turned out half the Berlin Phil players before he emigrated to the states. People waited years to study with him. He only took two students at any one time."
"Yeah?" Jared said, leaning forward. "And?"
"And about ten, twelve years ago there was this buzz about this new kid he was teaching. Last one of the line, whatever. Maybe the best one. So this Ackles guy was it."
"He's not that young, Chris. I mean, twenty-five, thirty. He's not a kid."
"No, he dropped off the map after Lehmann died. This big mystery, because the guy had the world on a string, you know? Gotta excuse the pun."
Jared nodded slowly at his phone. "And now he's playing in Midland."
"I asked around. Nobody's heard him, just heard OF him, a few of them."
"Whatever they say, it isn't enough," Jared said, shaking his head. "You have to hear him."
"I'll take your word for it."
"Come down," Jared said impulsively. "You're back from California, I know you don't have much going on right now. Come down to Texas."
Chris was silent for a second. Then, slowly, he said, "Guy's a soloist, Jare. He isn't going to want to play in a quartet."
"Not for that. Just -- I want you to hear him."
"I dunno --"
"You can hold my hand in the green room before the concert. Tell me I played flat, whatever. Trust me."
"Okay," Chris said cautiously. "He's that good, huh."
Jared drew a long breath. "But there's something else going on. I mean, why isn't he everywhere? And why'd he disappear for years?"
"Maybe he found something better to do."
Jared couldn't think of any reply to that, and after a moment Chris gave a low laugh. "Yeah, okay, never mind. Friday?"
"Two concerts, Friday and Saturday."
"You're insane."
"No," Jared said with a smile, "I'm really, really not."
~~~~~~~~~
The next morning's rehearsal went better. In part because Jensen proved he actually spoke English. If infrequently, and in a low murmur Jared sometimes had trouble hearing.
Engel had left them alone to argue tempi, work it out between them, and Jared nodded and shrugged while Jensen mumbled about how 25 needed to be adagio but not so slow it was actually decomposing -- hah -- until Jared finally asked, "Man, are you nervous?"
Jensen blinked rapidly at him, hazel eyes looking very green with his white shirt, and blurted, "A little."
"Relax, okay? It's just rehearsal. We'll work it out." Jared smiled. "And yes, I think we were a little slow last run-through. You have the melody; pull me with you."
Jensen bit his lip briefly. "Pull you."
"Make me go along with you. Do your own thing. Trust me; I'll follow you."
"And...that's all?"
With a laugh Jared said, "That's all. I promise. Come on, let's try it."
The passage came to life with a little brighter tempo, a flicker of new confidence in Jensen's playing. He was smiling when they came to a bridge. "You're right," he breathed. "It worked."
"It's like sitting first chair, right? You have to bring people along with you sometimes. You gotta know how that feels, right? Think about orchestral playing."
Jensen kept his eyes on the score. "I haven't done that," he said.
Jared frowned. "Do what?"
"Play. In an orchestra, I mean."
For a second Jared couldn't think of anything at all to say. "You've never played in an orchestra?" he finally managed.
Jensen shook his head.
"Ever?"
"I wanted to. My teacher said it would ruin my tone."
Jared sat back, laying his bow across the rickety music stand. "Well, I mean -- You learn so much from ensemble playing. You want to blend, yes, but -- I can't imagine it ruining anything."
A flush now stained Jensen's cheeks; he looked acutely uncomfortable. "He was pretty strict."
Jared cleared his throat. "Yeah, I guess. So where'd you go to school?"
"I didn't, really. I mean, I had tutors."
Jared drew a breath, and then Engel bustled in, score flapping in his bony hands, and it was back to the second movement, this time with no hesitation at all at bar 25. Jared darted a fast glance at Jensen, and saw the tiny smile on his lips.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"So you wanna grab some lunch? Gotta be someplace walking distance, you think?"
Jensen looked around them. "I don't know if --"
"Jensen, there you are." The tall woman from yesterday walked up, a brief smile for Jensen, an assessing look at Jared. "We're having lunch with John, remember?" She gestured to the door, a car outside at the curb.
Jensen glanced at Jared. "Maybe next time," he said softly, eyes crinkling in a brief smile.
"Yeah," Jared said. "Next time."
"I'll be out in a second," the woman told Jensen, and waited expectantly for him to walk away. When he did, she turned that sharp look at Jared once again. "I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Ingrid, Jensen's manager."
Her hand was cool and her fingers pressed his tightly, once. "Kinda wondered," he said awkwardly.
"We appreciate your coming down on such short notice. I was sorry to hear about your violinist. A terrible tragedy."
The words sounded sincere; the distance in her blue eyes made it more dubious. "Yes," Jared said thinly. "It was. Is."
She lifted her chin. "Not to be too direct, Jared, but you should know that Jensen is a bit preoccupied with this upcoming performance. It might be best to keep social engagements to a minimum. We are here to play, after all, not party."
"It's lunch," Jared said. "Not a debutante ball."
"Perhaps not for you," she replied evenly. "But Jensen has a tremendous career ahead of him, and it requires all of his focus. Surely you understand that, even if, well."
Jared forced a smile that felt like it was drawing blood. "If, well?"
"I mean, a quartet doesn't exactly demand the same of you as a solo career would. You understand."
"I'm pretty sure I don't," he gritted out.
Now her smile looked genuine, and cold as ice. "I'm sure you will soon enough, Jared," she said lightly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm almost late for lunch."
"Can't have that," Jared muttered at her receding back.
It took ten minutes for him to calm down enough to think about something to eat. By that time, he wasn't at all surprised to find he wasn't hungry anymore.
~~~~~~~~~~
Tuning, Jensen leaned slightly toward him and said, "She's sort of a bitch."
Jared glared at his cello. "Sort of?"
"She's scared I'll flake out again."
Jared stopped glaring and looked at him. "Flake out? What --"
"I get nervous." Jensen shrugged and sounded another open G. "Used to get really nervous. It's better now. But she's sorta protective."
"Jensen, I'm pretty sure she'd make a Doberman look like a lap dog by comparison."
For the first time since he'd met him, he saw Jensen grin. Blazing, startling. "Maybe."
Dazzled, Jared blinked and said, "No maybe about it."
"I can invent something for her to do tomorrow. If you still want to, you know."
Jared smiled. "'You know' meaning lunch?"
Jensen ducked his head, but he was still grinning. "Meaning that, yeah," he mumbled.
"Deal."
Whatever the reasons, the afternoon rehearsal went beautifully, the best kind of practice time, when everyone's on the same page, and the results are so exciting you can't wait to perform, to show them to others. Jared felt stronger, more confident, and he only had to look at Jensen to know he felt it, too. Maybe still some awareness that Jensen was world-class, that Jared might not be the next Yo-Yo Ma, but he was holding his own, and better.
"10:00 tomorrow, with the orchestra," Engel told them, a satisfied smile on his lean face. "I tell you honestly, I can't wait. Beautiful, simply beautiful."
Putting away their instruments, Jared said, "Got plans tonight? Or is the Doberman whisking you away?"
Jensen uttered a sharp laugh. "Probably."
"But lunch tomorrow."
"Yeah. Okay."
They smiled at each other, and Jared felt something warm in his belly, expectant, deeply purely pleased. Even Ingrid's sour look soon after didn't chill him.
He took himself to a steakhouse that night, ate hugely and tipped better than he should have, and when he got back to his room he didn't open his score once. Didn't need to.
Chris called around 10:00.
"So are you coming down?"
"Aw, Jare, you know --"
"You asshole. You're coming, aren't you?"
"Fuck yeah."
Jared grinned, partly relief, partly a hangover from a really good day. "My biggest fan. Awww."
"Nah, you suck, I just wanna meet Mr. Wonderful."
Jared laughed. "You'll like him. He's kinda introverted, but he's cool. Has a stone bitch for a manager, though. Jesus, I thought she was gonna go for my balls a couple of times today."
"Meaner than Dawn?"
"Pretty sure she'd be picking Dawn out from between her teeth in about five seconds flat."
"Damn. That bad."
"How's Mike?"
There was a tiny silence. "He's all right."
"Chris. Dude, is he okay?"
"He's dealing. What do you want me to say, Jared? Guy thought Tommy hung the moon."
"Yeah," Jared said slowly. "He did. Christ, what a mess."
"I've been thinking."
"First time for everything."
"No, but. Man, we need to play."
"We don't have --"
"I know we don't have anyone. I know that. But we need to motherfucking play something, because I don't know about you, Mr. Soloist, but I'm starting to forget what it was like. And that kinda scares me."
Jared swallowed over a sudden lump in his throat. "Yeah."
"I'm not shitting you, I think we need to get back in the saddle. Play some fucking trios, something. Remember why the hell we're doing this. Maybe then it won't be all so -- fucked up."
And maybe it'll be worse, Jared thought, maybe then we'll have to admit that Tommy isn't ever coming back. He isn't on vacation, he isn't home visiting family, he's gone. For good.
"Okay," he said hoarsely. "We'll play. When I get back. Find us something to play. Anything."
Chris sounded stronger when he replied, "Deal. Hey, see you Saturday."
"Aw. My teeny-tiny entourage of one."
"Fuck you, I can bring a whole claque if you want me to."
"Please don't."
"You sure? Because I got my ways."
Jared closed his eyes and grinned. "Night, Chris."
"Can I throw roses on stage?"
Jared laughed and closed his phone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TBC. Nighty-nite. EB