Fic: A thousand dollars for a kiss: Chapter One
March, 2000
Jensen’s heart was pounding when he woke up, and it took him a long moment to realize that he’d just been dreaming; for the residual fear and hopeless dread to leach from his pores and for reality to reassert itself. He hauled himself upright, shoved his pillow up against the wall and leaned back, breathing hard.
Fuck. He hadn’t had that dream in a while. He reached toward his nightstand and picked up his cigarettes, flipped one out of the pack and then slid his lighter out of the pack’s plastic covering. The flare of light in the dark room was like a lifeline and the first rush of nicotine helped him to settle his nerves; to calm down and think rationally.
In retrospect, it was pretty obvious why the dream had hit now.
Jared.
Jensen might not have finished-or, as it were, started-High School, but that didn’t mean he was stupid. Despite appearances to the contrary, he was something of an introvert. Sure, he could play whatever part his clients wanted him to, but that was just acting; it wasn’t really him. Jensen spent a lot of time in his own head; he knew himself pretty well and he knew that this thing with Jared was opening a lot of old wounds.
Jensen was aware that he wasn’t exactly a poster child for mental health or healthy sexuality. It had taken him years to even be able to admit to himself that what Warwick had done to him had been rape. It had taken him even longer to admit that it had fucked him up in ways he was only just starting to understand now. His coping mechanisms had been destructive and really unhealthy. He knew that he had intimacy issues; knew that he used sex to manipulate people and to keep them at arm’s length. That’s what a court-appointed counsellor had told him, anyway. Jensen had mostly rolled his eyes and made crude jokes during his sessions with her, but her words had stuck and later, when he really thought about it, he figured maybe she had a point. So this … whatever-it-was…with Jared was leaving him feeling vulnerable, and the fact that he hadn’t seen or heard from Jared since the morning after they…were intimate, wasn’t exactly helping.
Jensen lit another cigarette off the butt of the first one. He dropped the finished butt into the bottle of water sitting on the nightstand and made a mental note not to drink from the bottle any more. Goddamn Chris for coming into his room and taking the ashtray again. Chris hated him smoking in bed, said he was going to fall asleep with a lit cigarette and incinerate himself one night. Fuck him. That had been one time. And he’d still been doing Oxy at the time, so you know.
The Morning-After-Jared had been surprisingly not awkward. Jensen had never actually had a real Morning After before. Except for that one time with Chris and really, the less said about that the better; mostly because Jensen had been so fucked up that he didn’t actually remember what had happened, just knew that he’d woken up with his pants around his thighs, dried jizz on his belly and in his pubes, and a semi-naked Chris wrapped around him. It wasn’t something they talked about. Ever.
But the Morning-After-Jared, Jensen had woken up to find the younger man propped up on one elbow, watching him sleep with a goofy grin on his face. Jensen had waited, still and quiet, his breath held, to see if one of them was going to freak out. When neither of them did he had offered Jared a tentative smile. Jared’s dimples had burst forth from his face and really, Jensen wouldn’t have been surprised if a Disney-esque smiling sun had dawned behind his head and cartoon woodland animals had suddenly started frolicking all around him. But Jared had just planted a sloppy kiss on Jensen’s lips and then demanded breakfast. Jensen had made pancakes and Jared had smothered his in butter and maple syrup, giddy with excitement. It had been a good morning. Probably one of the best Jensen had ever had.
That had been a week ago.
At first, Jensen had just assumed that Jared was busy, that their schedules weren’t lining up. But Jared was never around. And Chad was avoiding him. And when Jensen had confronted Jeff and demanded to know where Jared was, the former-priest would only say that Jared had some personal business to take care of. And he wouldn’t look Jensen in the eye.
On a good day, Jensen imagined that Jared had gone back to the seminary school to withdraw from his priest studies; had maybe even gone to see his family; perhaps to come out to them. On a bad day, Jensen imagined that Jared had come to his senses and run for the hills; that he’d realized there was no future in dating a hooker. Because if he was just sorting out his schooling, surely he could’ve called Jensen to let him know what was going on?
Jensen knew that Jared hated calling his cell phone, knew that it made him feel like a client, but still.
Jensen dropped his second cigarette butt in the water and reached for his cell phone. He had three new text messages; one from Sebastian, which would either be to confirm or cancel their next appointment and could wait until the morning, one from his Thursday regular Dan, which, likewise could wait, and one from an unknown number. Jensen opened that one. You know, just in case it was Jared.
It wasn’t Jared. It was a potential new client who’d been given his number by Seb. Huh. Maybe that’s what Seb’s message was about.
The last thing that Jensen wanted right now was a new client; particularly one who sounded as high maintenance as this one. Maybe he could handball him over to Chris? However he dealt with it, it wasn’t something that he needed to deal with now, so he put his phone on the side table and lay back down, tucking his comforter up underneath his chin and closing his eyes.
Tomorrow would be a new day. Tomorrow, Jensen was going to get some proper answers about what was going on with Jared, even if he had to bust some heads to do it.
--
The wrought iron gates of the monastery slid open, allowing Jeff Morgan’s van through, before grinding to a halt and then sliding shut again. As the van’s tires crunched up the long, crushed-rock driveway, Jared stared vacantly out of the side window, and tried, for the hundredth time to decide how he felt.
He’d come home this morning, basking in the afterglow of his amazing evening with Jensen, to the news that his father had been arrested for having sex with an underage prostitute and his mom was filing for divorce. Hordes of paparazzi and E! News reporters were camped out in front of his parents’ house, so Jared was being smuggled in through the monastery. For this reason, if no other, Jared was profoundly grateful for the isolated way he and his siblings had been raised; the media had no idea what he looked like, which meant he might be able to hang onto his privacy throughout all this.
Jared had known, in an abstract kind of way, that his parents were actors. From the little his father had let slip, Jared had gathered that they were Shakespearean stage actors. When he’d joined the monastery and gotten access to the internet for the first time in his life, he’d made the shocking discovery that they were actually A-list Hollywood movie stars. Both his mom and his dad had above-the-title billing in any movie they starred in, and they’d done a variety of thrillers, dramas and romantic comedies, sometimes together, sometimes separately. Jared had never seen a single one of their movies though; they were all ‘unsuitable for children’ and banned by his parents in their own home.
“You okay?” Jeff’s voice dragged him from his reverie.
“Yeah,” Jared trailed his fingers down the glass of the window. “It’s only been a week and a half since I was here, but it seems like a lifetime ago.”
“A lot’s happened,” Jeff ventured.
Jared nodded, but didn’t reply.
They pulled into the main courtyard and drove past the fountain with the statue of Mary and Baby Jesus in the center, before pulling up in front of the broad stone steps that led into the main office building.
Brother Peter was waiting for them on the steps. He shook Jeff’s hand and ruffled Jared’s hair affectionately. “How you holding up, kid?” he asked.
Jared shrugged. “Shocked, I guess. It all seems kind of…not real.”
Peter showed them into Father Michael’s office and then retreated. Father Michael surprised Jared by pulling him into a hug. Once he’d done hugging him, he held him at arm’s length and looked at him hard, before letting go of him.
“How are you, Jared?”
“Okay, I guess.” As he spoke, Jared was drawn towards the full-length mirror that Michael used when putting on his cassock for service. He gazed at his reflection and saw a vibrant, stylishly dressed young man; someone full of life, with boundless energy to give to the world, someone who needed to love and be loved. In that moment he knew that he’d made the right decision. He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath, savoring the musty scent of stone, leather, old books and incense that was uniquely Father Michael’s office. He turned swiftly and caught Father Michael looking at him with a knowing kind of sadness.
“You’re leaving us,” Michael said.
Jared nodded. “You were right. I was hiding here. This isn’t my path,” he waved a hand toward the door, “but out there, I can do so much.”
“He’s good with people,” Jeff added. “Our clients like him, and they want him to like them, so they listen to what he has to say.”
Michael smiled. He sat down at his desk and invited them both to take a seat. “I’m glad,” he said.
Jeff grinned. “Well that has always been your particular talent, Father, helping people to find the right path.”
“Plus, I’m gay,” Jared blurted.
Michael looked up at him and then glanced at Jeff before turning back to the younger man. “You’re sure?”
Jared nodded, his cheeks heating. “I was never interested in girls. And being out there in the big wide world, meeting openly gay guys, it helped me figure out why.”
“Ah,” said Michael. There was a long moment of silence and then he continued. “I wish you every happiness, my son. Obviously, I can’t condone,” he cleared his throat, “but, uh, I truly hope you’re blessed with love and happiness,” he cleared his throat again. “Are you going to tell your mom?”
“I don’t know. Things are pretty stressful for her right now; I don’t want to add to that.”
Michael steepled his hands on the desk in front of him and looked pensive. “When I first met your mom she was nineteen years old. She’d just stared in A candle for Mary Magdalene, playing Bridie O’Donnell opposite that Irish actress, what’s her name?” Michael clicked his fingers a couple of times, “Brenda Fricker, who played Sister Mary-Catherine. You know the story, right?”
Jared shook his head.
“It’s based on a true story, which took place in Boston during the 1960s. Your mom played a new, young wife; a devout Catholic and diabetic, who barely survived the birth of her first child. Brenda Fricker played a nun-cum-midwife from the local parish, an older woman who was struggling with her faith. She attended Bridie during that first birth and formed a close, long-lasting friendship with the young mother. This was during the years that the Second Vatican Council was taking place, and both the women had been hoping and praying that the Vatican would change its position on contraception, which, as we all know, didn’t happen. In 1968 Pope Paul VI issued Humanae Vitae, which reaffirmed traditional Catholic teaching on the subject of birth control, and in 1969 Bridie died giving birth to her fourth child, with Sister Mary-Catherine by her side. Sister Mary-Catherine subsequently left the Church and became a recluse, but she wrote a best-selling novel about her friendship with Bridie, which they made into a movie. Your mom got a Best Supporting Actress Oscar nomination for the role, and she caught your father’s eye too. He arranged for her to star opposite him in his next film, and promptly proceeded to court her and woo her with single-minded determination. When I met your mom, she really was a new, young wife,” Michael sighed. “What I’m trying to tell you, in a very long-winded, roundabout way, is that your mom didn’t really know your father when she married him. But she has always taken her marriage vows very seriously. I know you saw a lot of the bad press surrounding your father when we gave you access to the internet here.”
Jared pulled a face and nodded.
“So you know that your mother has dealt with your father’s infidelity in the past. And presumably you know his views on homosexuality.”
Jared nodded again. “He’s more anti-gay than Brother Paul. He’s gonna disown me, for sure.”
Father Michael didn’t contradict him. “This latest incident with the young girl has been the final straw for your mom,” he said. “It’s not something she can forgive. The marriage is over. But she loves all you children fiercely and she will fight for each and every one of you. It may distress your mom to hear of your orientation, but only because she knows that it’s still a harder path in our society. But it will also give her extra fuel to sustain her in the upcoming battle she’s going to have with your father.”
“So you think I should tell her?”
Father Michael nodded slowly. “Yes, Jared. You should tell her.”
--
It had been several years since Jared had last climbed over the crumbling section of blue stone wall that ran between the monastery and the grounds of his own home. Even though he knew they were going to be there, he was still shocked by the two bulky, Kevlar-clad, semi-automatic rifle-carrying security guards who greeted him on the other side.
“Name?” the taller of the two asked in a bored tone, pointing the gun right at his chest.
“Jared.”
The guard raised an eyebrow and looked distinctly unimpressed. Jared sighed.
“Jared Francis Gumm.”
The security guards lowered their guns. “This way, Sir. Ms Monaghan is waiting for you.”
Thomas Gibson Garcia was Jared’s dad’s stage name. His real name was Thomas Gilbert Gumm. Jared could see why he’d changed it; and why his mom had chosen to keep her maiden name when she got married.
Catherine J Monaghan was taking tea on the back verandah. She was dressed in white wide-leg cotton trousers and a long-sleeved white peasant blouse. A white and gold head-scarf covered her head, the length of it draped around her neck and shoulders hijab style, and her eyes were hidden behind a pair of wide-framed dark sunglasses. She stood when Jared was almost to the verandah, her arms spread wide, and he went to her and hugged her tightly. She squeezed him back and Jared could feel the tiny tremors running through her arms.
“I’ve missed you so much, baby,” she whispered.
“I’ve missed you too, Mom.”
“Let me look at you,” she released him and stepped back, her head tilting to one side as she examined him. Jared fidgeted a little under her scrutiny.
“You look good,” she said, her lips twisting into something that might have been a smile. “New clothes?”
He nodded, not sure how much she knew about where he’d been and what he’d been doing.
“Let’s sit down,” she said, and pulled him onto the wicker two-seater beside her.
“Tea?” She turned over a tea cup and then picked up the pink floral-patterned china tea pot.
“Yes please.”
She poured. “Help yourself to…whatever you’d like. There’s cream and sugar and honey and lemon.”
Jared added some sugar to his tea and stirred it vigorously, trying not to stare at the armed guards who were standing at the foot of the verandah, facing out toward the lawn.
“I can’t believe how much you’ve grown up in the last year,” his mom said. “I think you got even taller. You’re going to be a giant, Jared.”
Jared took a sip of his tea. The dainty bone china cup looked stupidly small in his big hand and he missed Sam and Jeff’s sturdy mismatched mugs.
“So,” his mom continued, “tell me what you’ve been doing. Father Michael said you’d been doing some outreach work?”
“Yeah,” Jared cleared his throat. “In West Hollywood.”
“Oh? And how was that?”
Jared frowned. “Illuminating.”
His mom nodded. “Yes. I can imagine…” she trailed off as her chin began to quiver. She put a hand to her mouth as if trying to push back the sobs that were threatening, and Jared moved closer to her and put an arm around her shoulders. She broke down then, turning her face into his chest and sobbing hard, one hand twisted in his button-down shirt. Jared patted her on the back and murmured reassurances into the top of her head until finally her sobs subsided and she pulled away from him, taking off her sunglasses and rubbing at her swollen red eyes.
“I’m sorry,” her bottom lip was still trembling. “I shouldn’t have unloaded on you like that. I’m supposed to be the mom.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
Catherine smiled tremulously. “How much do you hate us right now?” she asked.
Jared’s face scrunched in confusion. “Hate you? Dad maybe. But you? For what?”
Catherine wiped at her wet cheeks. “For keeping so much from you,” she choked back a sob. “We just wanted to keep you safe; to keep you away from the prying eyes and the paparazzi and the intense public scrutiny. Sometimes I questioned just how cut-off we kept you. But we wanted you to be children. To be carefree and safe.”
Jared nodded. “I get that. I do. And I don’t hate you for it. But you didn’t really equip us to deal with the world. And the nanny you hired? Total bitch.”
Catherine gasped and covered her mouth with her hand again, before giggling. “You know, I never liked her. But your father wouldn’t hear a word…” she trailed off with a frown and then leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “Do you think I should fire her?”
“Definitely.”
She smiled. “Then I will. I’m starting afresh, Jared. Things are going to be different from now on. I’ll do what I think is best, and your father…” Her face fell, suddenly and dramatically, and she put a slender, manicured hand on top of his large, nail-bitten one and squeezed. “I don’t want a divorce.”
When Jared started to speak she hushed him. “I’m still Catholic. I still believe in ‘til death do us part. But what he did…Jared, I can’t… I… I know I’ll have to get a legal divorce, but we were married in the Church and…Jared…I’m going to try to get an annulment,” she paused and took a tremulous breath. “It’s not…He…oh Jared, I don’t want to burden you with this. You shouldn’t have to…”
Jared barked out a laugh. “My father is a hypocritical, cheating, bigoted, homophobic scumbag. It’s not exactly a secret. My God, Mom, you have no idea how much it scared me when I realized how many people out there hated him. The internet’s full of his insane rants. And I’ve seen the news reports. I know, okay? I know. And you have my full support. Whatever you want. However you want to deal with this.”
Catherine’s mouth was a flat line, but she didn’t look angry, so much as resigned. “You really have grown up. You’ll make a good priest, Jared.”
Jared picked up his tea cup again and squirmed in his seat. “About that,” he said, staring hard at the glass table top. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
Catherine studied him intently. “You’ve changed your mind about entering the priesthood?”
Jared nodded. “Yeah. I just. I don’t think it’s the right path for me.”
“What made you change your mind?”
Jared studied the table top again. “Just,” he shrugged. “I guess when I had a chance to really think about it, I realized that there were too many issues that I don’t agree with the Church’s stance on. It would feel…dishonest to be ordained,” he ran a tired hand across his eyes. “And also, I realized some things about myself and, well…”
Now that the moment had come, Jared wasn’t sure that he could actually bring himself to say the words. Telling his mom would definitely make it real. And what if she reacted badly? What if she disowned him? He could still see the bleak look in Jensen’s eyes when Jared had asked him how his parents had reacted, and oh dear Lord, he didn’t want to be cut off, to be homeless, to be-
“What is it?” his mom said, putting her hand on his knee. “You know you can tell me anything, right Jared?”
Jared gulped in air and then let it out slowly, before raising his head to meet his mother’s eyes. “I’m gay,” he said.
His mom nodded. “I did sometimes wonder if you might be.”
Jared wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Really? Why? Because I had no idea.”
His mom shrugged. “Little things. I kept telling myself it was just because you were so isolated, that you didn’t really understand that some behaviors weren’t appropriate for little boys-”
Jared held a hand up before she could go any further. “Jeff, at the Outreach Center, made me do a lot of reading. Gender norms are just social constructs-”
“I didn’t mean they weren’t appropriate, I meant society wouldn’t view them as appropriate.”
Jared nodded. “What sort of behaviors are you talking about?”
His mom smiled. “Well, when you were little, you loved putting on my dresses and my high heels and my lipstick and performing plays for us. Do you remember that?”
Jared cocked his head to one side and thought. “Not really. I do remember Nanny being really cross with me on various occasions and scrubbing so hard at my face with a wash cloth that it hurt.”
“You only did it until you were about six,” Catherine frowned. “I always suspected that Nanny might’ve put a stop to it.” She covered her face with her hands. “I’ve been a terrible mom. I should never have given her such free-rein with you children.”
“You were busy,” Jared reasoned.
Catherine shook her head. “I was self-absorbed. I thought that taking you from impoverished circumstances and giving you all this,” she held her hands out wide, “was enough. But it wasn’t and…I’m going to do things differently from now on. I promise.” She reached out again and squeezed his hand. “So tell me, have you found yourself a nice young man?”
Jared’s blush was answer enough.
--
Thursday was Jensen’s Ellie day. There were several vice cops to whom he gave free blow jobs, along with the occasional piece of information about asshole pimps, asshole drug dealers and anyone else who was causing trouble on the streets that Jensen had once called home. Tonight he was seeing two of them and, over the course of the evening, there was a judge and an assistant DA too, both paying clients.
This particular Thursday, Jensen headed out early so that he could call in at Per vias rectas on his way to work. Jeff was nowhere in sight, but Sam was sitting at the computer and Jensen weaved his way across the room and stopped beside her.
“Hey, Jensen,” Sam looked up at him with a smile. The smile faded when she processed the expression on his face. “What’s wrong?”
“I wanna know what the Hell’s goin’ on with Jared. And no more bullshit.”
Wow. Until he spoke, Jensen hadn’t realized how angry he was.
“Have a seat,” Sam said.
Jensen scowled and shook his head, his body taut with fury. “Just tell me what he’s doin’ and then I’m outta here.”
Sam pushed her chair back from the desk. She put her hands on her hips and leveled a stare at him.
“Let’s get one thing clear,” she said, her voice flat. “I will not have a conversation with you while you’re standin’ over me with your fists clenched. So either sit down, or get out.”
For a brief, rebellious moment Jensen considered just turning on his heel and walking out, but he was sick of being kept in the dark, he needed to know what was going on, and besides, he’d seen the brief flash of fear in Sam’s eyes. He dropped into the chrome and black vinyl visitor’s chair grudgingly and then looked up when Sam huffed. He met her eyes and she raised an eyebrow then folded her arms across her chest.
“He just took off,” Jensen said. “He spent the night and then he…fuck,” he put his head in his hands. “I turned into a twelve-year-old girl, didn’t I?”
Sam huffed again. “Feelings aren’t just for women, you know. You’re allowed to have them too, Jensen.”
Jensen scrubbed a hand across his face. “Yeah. Well. It’s usually better if I don’t. So what’s goin’ on with Jared? Jeff wouldn’t say anything, just said it was ‘personal business’.”
Sam nodded. “A family emergency. And that’s really all we can say. It’s not for us to share his private business. Around here, what people tell us in confidence stays in confidence.”
Jensen supposed he couldn’t really argue with that. He chewed on his bottom lip and rubbed at the back of his neck. “D’you know if he’s gonna come back?” he blurted, and then sank lower in his chair, mortified by the emotion he was waving around for everyone to see.
Sam smiled at him. “Jeff’s picking him up tomorrow morning. I’m sure he’d be pleased to have you stop by.”
--
Officer John Reardon was a good guy. He only ever asked to see Jensen when he either needed information or when there was something he thought the street trade ought to know about; a dangerous trick, an impending mob turf war, a vice crack down. Sure, he always took the free blow job, but he always shelled out for a motel room, and besides, Jensen genuinely liked the guy, knew the feeling was mutual, and figured that it was a very small price to pay for having an honorable vice cop in his corner.
“Pellegrino made bail,” Reardon said as he zipped up.
Jensen was wrapping the used condom in toilet paper. His hands stilled briefly and then he shrugged and finished the task, dropping the ball of paper in the trash can. “Figured he would. S’not exactly unexpected.”
Reardon leaned back against the vanity and folded his arms across his chest. “Word is he’s gunning for you, Apparently he’s pissed at a couple other people too, uh, Misha Collins, Gen, Danni, someone called Jared?”
“Jared works for Jeff.”
“Huh. Well apparently he’s decided that he can kill five birds with one stone, so to speak, by going after you. Misha he won’t touch for obvious reasons, and apparently the crazy Russian’s put the word out that Gen and Danni are his, and I gotta ask Jensen, is that true? Is he really in a relationship with both of them?”
Jensen found the idea hard to believe, but he gave Reardon a non-committal answer, because if it was keeping the girls safe, it was better if everyone believed it was true. “What about Jared?” he asked. “Jared’s the one who knocked him out.”
Reardon shrugged. “My informant says he’s targeting you. I guess he respects Jeff too much to go after Jared.”
Or maybe he figured that hurting Jensen would hurt Jared, without the bad publicity of having gone after a do-gooder. After all, the general public wouldn’t give two shits if a whore got worked over, but bash a guy who gives up his time to help feed the homeless and the media would have a field day.
“So what are we talkin’ here?” Jensen asked. “Routine intimidation; harassment and assault; or a bullet to the back of the head?”
“No-one’s saying he wants you dead. You should definitely stay off the streets for as long as possible though; just see your regulars. And try not to cross paths with any of Pellegrino’s goons if you can avoid it.”
“Alright,” Jensen nodded. “Thanks for the heads up. Anything you need?”
Reardon glanced away, thinking. “No big deal, but if you hear about anyone offering cheap Dexies let me know. A pharmaceuticals warehouse got ripped off a couple days ago and we’re waiting for the product to start showing up on the street.”
Jensen said he’d keep his ears open. He left Reardon in the motel room and headed over to the beat.
The corner of N. Highland Avenue and Santa Monica Boulevard was probably the last place he should be hanging out, given the information he’d just received from Reardon, but he was meeting his second Ellie freebie here. Kurt Evans was a corrupt asshole, but he had his own twisted moral code and had actively prevented Jensen from being charged a number of times.
“Pellegrino’s gunnin’ for you,” Kurt gasped, ramming his cock down Jensen’s throat.
Jensen hummed and swallowed and raised an eyebrow in query.
“He wants you worked over, bad enough to land you in hospital, but nothing permanent. That’s what I’m hearin’ anyway. You might wanna lay low for a while.”
Kurt came and Jensen sucked him through it before pulling off and removing the condom. He threw it over Kurt’s shoulder, into the dumpster he was leaning against.
“Thanks,” Jensen said, looking away and giving Kurt space to tuck himself in. “Anything you need?”
Kurt shook his head. “And another thing, just FYI, we’re doing a sweep, day after tomorrow.”
Jensen raised his eyebrows. “Another one? It’s less than a month since the pre Oscars sweep. What is it this time?”
Kurt rolled his eyes. “Some big trade fair thing. Lots of international dignitaries comin’ in. The Mayor’s freaked about ‘em being ‘confronted’ by the homeless and the street trade,” he frowned. “No offense.”
Jensen grinned. “Aw baby, I take pride in being confronting, you know that,” he stood up straight and gave Kurt a nod. “Alrighty, places to be and all that. Good to see you again. And thanks. I appreciate the intel,” he turned to walk away and Kurt put a hand to his shoulder. Jensen froze and then turned back to face the vice cop, his eyes widening when he saw the fifty dollar bill in Kurt’s hand. “You don’t pay, remember?”
Kurt shook his head. “It’s cab fare. And I’m gonna stand here and watch until you get into a cab.”
Jensen gaped at him and Kurt sighed. “I’m not a complete asshole. Pellegrino’s guys know your stroll. Meeting you here? Bad move on my part. Hail a cab, get in, and go straight to your next appointment. Then stick to your regulars and stay away from the beat until Pellegrino loses interest, okay?”
Jensen gave a brief nod. He stood at the edge of the sidewalk with his arm in the air until a cab pulled over, all the while feeling Kurt's watchful eyes on him. The sense of warmth and protection he felt, knowing that the cop had his back, was definitely worth all the free blow jobs he’d given him over the years.
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