Big Bang: The Greatest Thing You'll Ever Learn (J2, R // 1/6)
The Greatest Thing You'll Ever Learn
Full header in MASTER POST.
"Jay," Chad had said to Jared the day he left, "you're going to get a call from me in a few months time, and I'm going to make you fucking regret not coming with me, because I'm going to be a famous movie star with a really hot chick on my arm-and okay, I know that part doesn't interest you, cocksucker-and you are going to be stuck in Assfuck, Texas, dirt-poor, probably back living with Mommy and Daddy while I make it big. Not, like, you big, sasquatch, because I swear there's something wrong with you-"
Jared had chucked a pillow at his head and told him to get the fuck out, and that was that. One hug and Chad was out the door, and Jared was waving goodbye from the window, watching his college roommate and childhood best friend pile all his shit into his run-down truck and leave for Los Angeles with no intent to return.
Chad had always been a big dreamer, so Jared had passed off his farewell speech as just that-a dream-and that was exactly why his phone call came as such a surprise. It was mid-May, four months after Chad up and left (and Jared missed the guy more than he was willing to admit), and Jared was sprawled half off the dilapidated hammock he'd bought at a yard sale in April, fast asleep. A hard kick to the shin jerked him out of his nap and he squint-glared up at the slim silhouette leaning over him, waving a cordless phone in her hand.
"Wake up, JT," Megan said, dropping the phone onto his chest. "Chad's on the phone for you."
Jared grumbled and sat up, still too disoriented to fully take that in. He should've known that letting his little sister move in with him was a terrible idea, but she'd been whining about being an adult now and how mom and dad were stifling her creative juices or something, and didn't he have a spare room, anyway? It hadn't seemed so bad at the time-probably, he thinks sulkily, because he'd downed three beers by the time she asked.
"Wait," Jared said, tearing himself out of his thoughts and glancing muzzily between the phone resting on his breastbone and his retreating sister. "Who's on the-what?"
Megan rolled her eyes. "Chad, dipshit," she said, hands on her hips, and flounced back inside.
Jared fumbled the phone to his ear. "Chad?" he said, digging the heel of his free hand into his eye and swallowing a yawn. He stumbled free of the hammock and stretched. "What's up, man? It's been a while."
Chad called every week or two, usually, just to update Jared on how his life wasn't taking off, how boring LA was, and most recently, how the only person on his arm was a big, muscled creeper who had flirted with him that one time his new friends had forced him to go with them to a gay bar. (Jared liked the sound of Chad's new friends.) But he hadn't called in a little over a month, and it was good to hear from him.
"I told you! I fucking told you!" Chad shouted gleefully into the phone.
Jared winced and held the receiver away from his ear. "What?" He reached down and scratched at his flat stomach absently as Chad started talking a mile a minute-way too fast for Jared to keep up; something about Chad's new friends and some chick called Sophia-and followed Megan inside. He ruffled her hair as he passed the countertop on which she was perched, ducked the answering swat, and stuck his head in the fridge. "Chad," he said after taking a swig of milk straight from the carton-"Gross, JT," Megan groaned from behind him-and flopping down on his ratty couch. "Chad, dude, slow down and start again."
Chad's annoyed exhale was deafening. "Jared," he whinged. "Pay the fuck attention, man. You didn't forget what I said to you when I left, did you?"
Jared tilted his head back against the cushions and racked his brains. "Uh."
"Dude," Chad said when Jared didn't go on, sounding deeply affronted. "I said to you that I was going to be big, remember, moron? You know. Hot girl on my arm. Famous movie star."
"Oh, yeah," Jared laughed. "That dream finally come crashing down? Let me guess, you auditioned for something and they told you sucked, so now you're coming back here to crash on my couch and drink yourself into an early, emo grave."
"Shut the fuck up."
"Is that a yes?"
"No!" Chad said indignantly, and Jared laughed and then fell silent, giving him an opportunity to actually explain. "Okay, now that you've stopped being a dickweed," Chad said irritably, "I'll tell you. So, you know Tom and Mike, right? Well, not know-know, but whatever. I've told you about them. Turns out they've got connections, dude. Real celebrity connections. And it turns out that Tom's all lined up to direct this movie for Jeffrey Dean Morgan, 'cause his boy wants to get famous-"
"Jeffrey Dean who?"
"Morgan," Chad said happily. "Anyway. Anyway. So we've got it all planned out; Tom's going to direct, okay, and Mike and I, we're going to be in it, and it's going to be so big-but there's a problem."
Jared shook his head. Even slowed down, things were moving a little too fast for him. He couldn't help but wonder if most of what Chad was telling him was a dream, or maybe a drug-induced hallucination. "What?" he said anyway, humouring Chad.
"Well, see, Justin walked out on us last week, and we-we need a writer."
Jared's eyebrows soared. "Oh, no. No, no, no. Chad, you're not-"
"C'mon, Jay," Chad wheedled, and Jared could see him plain as day: squinty eyes wide, mouth stretched in a grin, hands clasped in front of him. "You love writing. Always said to me that you wanted to write. Come on, what better way to get your career started than this? You're not going to turn me down, Jay, are you? Dude, you're going to leave your best fucking friend in the dust?"
"Chad, are you high?" Jared said in disbelief, shrugging at Megan's raised eyebrow as she plunked herself down, cross-legged, beside him. Just Chad being Chad, he mouthed at her. Into the mouthpiece, he continued, "Dude, I'm hanging up. Call me back when your head's on strai-"
"Jay, shut up, I'm completely sober on every level," Chad snapped. "Mike's here. You want to talk to Mike? I'll hand you to Mike. He'll tell you." Then, muffled, like he'd put his hand over the receiver: "You'll tell him, won't you, Mike?" A pause. "What do you mean, no? Oh, fuck you." Chad's voice became clear again, and he said sulkily, "Mike's an asshole and hates the phone. But I'm serious, Jared. I'm not even fucking kidding you."
Jared scrubbed a hand over his face. "Okay, you're serious. I'm still not going to LA."
Megan's head snapped up at that, her eyes alight. Without preamble, she surged forward and grabbed the phone out of Jared's hand, too quick for him to stop her. "Hey, Chad?" she said, pressing it against her ear. "Hi, this is Megan. Yeah, Jay's little sister, dumbass. What other-anyway. Jared can totally go to LA."
Jared gaped at her. "Megan!" he shouted, grappling for the phone.
She tugged it out of his reach and beamed at him, still talking to Chad. "Yeah, no problem," she said, nodding. "Okay. Well. I've got to talk to JT, so he'll call you back later. Okay. Bye now. Kisses," and she hung up, just like that. She spent a millisecond staring at the phone before lobbing it at Jared with, he couldn't help but think as he cradled his sure to be bruised stomach, a lot more force than necessary; then Megan looked up and Jared saw her eyes were fucking twinkling.
Yeah, letting her move in had definitely been a bad idea.
"Megan," Jared said, annunciating carefully slow. "Why would you get Chad's hopes up like that?"
"Because, Jared," she said just as slowly, rising and turning away from the couch, headed back to where a gossip magazine lay open on the counter, "why wouldn't you want to go to LA?"
Jared scowled. "I don't want to get caught up in one of Chad's stupid schemes. I love him like a brother, but sometimes the guy is just-"
"I know how he is, JT. Unfortunately, before college, your house was my house, and I had to endure the guy every afternoon after school, and sometimes on the weekend. Pure, unadulterated torture, bro. No one deserves that, not even, like, Charles Manson. Or OJ." She levelled a wooden cooking spoon at him from her safe place near the sink. "Huh? Huh?"
Jared sort of wanted to say, He's not that bad, but what came out instead was, "He wants me to write some stupid movie that he thinks will get him and his friends famous."
Megan cocked an eyebrow at him. Her arms were immersed in sudsy water up to the elbow: she was starting dinner. "So? If it works, maybe you'll get famous too. I don't see the issue, JT. Look, the worst case scenario is that you'll spend a few weeks, a month or two tops, in sunny, polluted LA, surrounded by movie stars, crashing at Chad's place and smoking weed all the time. You'll actually do some writing instead of just planning to"-Jared opens his mouth to protest at that, but she raises a soapy hand to shut him up-"and then you'll come home again and return to your sad, boring, lonely life."
Jared was pretty sure that if he kept scowling his face might stick, so he schooled his expression into something civil and crossed his arms over his chest.
Megan smirked and flicked a few bubbles in his direction. "And if you're real lucky, maybe you'll actually write something good, and if Chad and his buddies can pull it off, who knows what could happen? You could be on the cover of People within a year." She struck a dramatic pose and said, "'Young writer to win prestigious prize! Record-breaking movie sales shoot writer Jared Padalecki to the top of LA's ten most eligible bachelors!' Can't you imagine it? The paparazzi would be all over you-is he? Isn't he? 'Padalecki caught pants down with mysterious man!'"
Jared gave up on fighting the smile threatening to spread across his face and flung a cushion at her. She screamed and ducked, and it hit the cabinet behind her. Shaking his head, Jared eyed her up and down and said, all at once knowing exactly what she was up to, "You want me out of the house, don't you?"
Megan blushed and ducked her head. "Look. Matt is coming home for a few weeks, and I…"
Jared flattened himself against the couch, stricken. "Ew. Ew. Okay, okay, I'll go," he said, laughing when Megan ran around the counter to tackle him to the floor. His getaway wasn't quick enough; he ended up flat on his stomach, the wind thoroughly knocked out of him, with Megan sitting proudly atop him.
"JT, you're such a jerk," she said, beating at his back with her fists, but she was laughing and it wasn't long before Jared was too.
About the time Megan was serving up dinner-spaghetti bolognaise, her specialty-Jared called Chad back and had to physically hold the phone away from his ear as he said that, yes, he'd come to LA, and yes, he'd give writing their stupid movie a shot. "You better start moving your stuff into the living room," Jared said, "because I am not sleeping on the fucking couch. And you wouldn't want your writer's creativity stunted by a bad night's sleep, would you?"
"Guest room," Chad said triumphantly. He waited a beat before adding, "Thanks, Jay."
He sounded so sincere that it threw Jared off a little, and he laughed to ease the tension. Chad never thanked anybody. "Yeah, no problem, squinty," he teased. "I'll be flying up on Saturday." When Chad's only answer was a derisive snort, Jared rolled his eyes. "Look, just because you decided it would be a great idea to take a road trip halfway across America doesn't mean I'm going to do it. I'll expect you to pay me back for the tickets, by the way. Fame doesn't come cheap, Chad," Jared added when Chad groaned.
"Shut up, sasquatch," Chad said, but there was no heat to it. "I'll see you Saturday."
"Yeah," Jared said, quieter, more serious. The line went dead a second later, and Jared just sat there staring at it for a moment before hanging it back in its cradle. Megan was staring at him over her bowl of pasta, and when he joined her at the table she said, "Well, JT. Guess the least I can do is help you pack up."
-
Jared spent the next two days throwing all his belongings into two duffel bags, triple-checking his plane tickets, and explaining to his parents at length that Chad's going through a rough time, and needs some support. Instead of arguing, they wished him the best. "Maybe you'll meet a nice girl while you're there," his mother said, and Jared yet again didn't mention just how unlikely that was. Instead, he smiled and hugged them goodbye and let Megan drive him to the airport.
"I'll see you, JT," she said, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek as the crowd in Gate 17 began to disperse. "Stay out of trouble."
Jared laughed and ruffled her hair. "Don't you tell me that, squirt," he said fondly, and gave a quick hug before hefting his rucksack over one shoulder and hurrying to get his ticket checked in. The stewardess behind the counter let him on the plane without the hitch he'd been dreading, and he even found his way to his seat with little problem: A46, by the window. The place beside him was taken up a few minutes later by a slim, older man who ignored Jared in favour of burying his nose in the safety brochure.
"Nervous flyer?" Jared tried. The man didn't even look up, and Jared shrugged, content to mind his own business. He was just reaching into his bag for the book he'd grabbed for the flight when his mobile buzzed in his pocket, announcing the arrival of new text messages. There was one from Chad ("u better b on time assface"), two from Megan ("have fun jt" and "ps i hear there r hot guys in la bring 1 home 4 me plz matt is not hot enough lol"), and one from his brother-"Don't do anything stupid. Put that computer of mine to good use. Love, Jeff."
Jared shook his head and switched his phone off, shoving it into his bag beside his brother's laptop, given to Jared as an early birthday present just a few weeks before. No sooner had he done that than a blonde stewardess appeared at the front of the plane and began to instruct them on safety procedures. The man beside Jared drank in her words with wide eyes, all the while clutching onto his seat like a lifeline.
Sighing, Jared pressed himself up against the porthole and squeezed his eyes shut. He got up at ass o'clock that morning to catch the flight, and he figured that the only way he wouldn't be dead by the time he arrived in LA was if he could catch some shut-eye. As far as Jared could remember, he'd never tried to sleep on a plane before-mostly just spent the time making the people next to him uncomfortable with his chatter-but it couldn't be that hard.
Or, Jared lamented as he heaved himself out of his seat a few hours later, it really could. It really, really could. He spent the whole flight tossing and turning (which is hard to do in a damn tiny seat not made for people over six foot) and inadvertently annoying the shit out of the guy next to him; and standing in the baggage claim, keeping a bleary eye out for Chad's scruffy, squinty-eyed face, Jared couldn't see himself being productive ever again.
"I'm fucking tired," he told Chad when Chad finally showed up half an hour later. "Don't tell me to be on time if you're not going to bother showing up for-for-" He wasn't even awake enough to form a good argument. Exhausted, he dropped his head on Chad's shoulder, content to doze off there and drool on Chad's shirt.
Chad, being Chad, shoved him off. "Dude, I think your gaydar is malfunctioning," he said, pulling a face and wiping at his shoulder. At Jared's sleepy-eyed glare, he smirked and grabbed the duffels out of Jared's arms. "What, did the movie suck, or something?"
"You have no idea," Jared groaned, letting Chad steer him to the car. "I promise, I'll tell you all about it once I'm a person again."
Chad pushed him into the passenger seat and threw his bags in the back. "I'll pass," he said, sliding into the driver's seat and handing Jared a cup of coffee, which he inhaled gratefully. "Try to get some sleep or something, Jay. It's a while to my place."
Jared mumbled something between an affirmative and a thank you at Chad's uncharacteristic sweetness and was asleep within moments, the worn upholstery of Chad's truck a million times better than the airplane's scratchy seats.
-
When Jared woke up to Chad prodding him hard in the side, he felt less like he dozed for an hour and more like he slept for forty years. Groggy but energised, he swatted Chad's hands away, rolled out of the car, looked at Chad's apartment building, and decreed loudly, "It looked better in pictures."
"Shut the fuck up, dude," Chad grumbled, back to normal, and appeared at Jared's side with both duffel bags in his arms. "It's a goddamn palace. Just wait until you get inside." A keychain with a single key and a small figurine of a half-naked girl was dangling from Chad's mouth, and Jared took it with a laugh and let Chad lead the way up three flights of stairs. ("The elevator's broken," Chad told him grouchily. "And if you laugh at me one more time I'm going to throw your bags out the window. You know who'd be laughing then, motherfucker? Me.")
As Chad was battling with the luggage, Jared let them into the apartment-14G, though Jared only knew that because Chad told him; the number was scratched clean off the plaque-and stood back to observe as Chad dumped his bags on the floor and spun around, arms spread wide.
"Well?" Chad said expectantly. "Beautiful, no?"
Jared raised an eyebrow and moved further into the front room. A few squares of tile in one corner served as a kitchen, which really was nothing more than a small counter, a fridge that looked as if it had barely survived World War II, a rusted cooker, and a few shelves stocked with what looked like rows upon rows of canned soup. The rest of the room was taken up by a ratty couch and a widescreen TV that Chad couldn't possibly have afforded. Down a small hallway to Jared's right, there was a bathroom about the size of a linen closet, and two closed doors-both bedrooms, Jared hoped, because Chad had mentioned a guest room and the couch looked uncomfortable as all hell.
Jared scratched the back of his neck, looking up to avoid answering. He was immediately greeted by the sight of some suspicious-looking stains on the ceiling. Gazing out the window was a bust too, as the windowpanes were black with dirt and looked like they wouldn't get cleaner even if he took steel wool to them.
"Chad," he said, finally, "this place is a dump."
Chad scowled and kicked at one of Jared's duffels. "I like it, asswipe," he said crossly. "It's a million times better than your shithole."
Jared thought back on his small, clean house, with its huge patio windows and grassy backyard and sunny, inviting rooms. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to be back there, lounging on his comfy, cushion-heaped couch, even if the cost was overhearing Megan and Matt getting it on in the other room. "Whatever you say, man."
Chad ran a hand through his short hair and stomped over to the kitchen. "Dude, you better be as good a writer as you always tell me you are, because this is so not worth it. I did not bring you here to trash my place."
"When have I ever told you that I'm a-"
"Chad, they don't understand true talent!" Chad mimicked, his desperate hand-wringing punctuated with high, fake sobs. "Why didn't they pick meee-"
"I hate you."
"Right back atcha, big boy," Chad said with a grin, taking a box of cookies down from the highest shelf and tossing a few in his mouth. "Man, did Sophia go out?" He ambled towards the dim hallway and was halfway to the first door when Jared said, "Sophia?"
Chad whirled around. "Dude, I told you about her." At Jared's blank look, he twisted his face into a disparaging look and added, "On the phone. Remember? I reminded you about the whole having-a-hot-chick-on-my-arm thing. Said that I'd met this insanely hot girl called Sophia few weeks ago?"
Jared raised his eyebrows. "You met her a few weeks ago and she already moved in?"
"No," Chad said quickly, his ears reddening. "She just stays here most nights. What do you take me for? Anyway, get this." He leaned towards Jared, cupping a hand around his mouth like it was some big secret, and practically giggled, "Her name is Sophia Bush. You know, like-"
Jared pulled back and shook his head, abruptly recalling just how immature Chad could be. He took a moment to worry about the safety of his eyeballs, which might become strained or something weird like that from all the eye-rolling he was bound to be doing. "Jesus Christ, Chad. What are you, twelve?"
"Chad?" came a sleepy voice, cutting off Chad's indignant hey! and Jared looked up to see a pretty, dark-haired girl slip out of the second door down the hall, dressed in an oversized t-shirt but not much else. Her hand froze mid-wave, and she blinked in confusion at the sight of not one but two men standing in the living room-cum-kitchen. Just as Jared raised a hand in a hello, she let out a soft squeak, looked down at her state of undress, and disappeared back inside.
As soon as she was gone, Chad turned back to Jared and mouthed, Awesome, huh?
Jared sighed, flapping an exasperated hand in the air just as Sophia re-emerged, this time with jeans on.
"Hey," she said, sidling past Chad with a lingering touch to his side and offering a hand to Jared. "I'm Sophia. You must be Jared. I've heard so much about you!"
Jared shook her hand warmly and said, "Yeah, that'd be me. I've heard lots about you, too." Even though it was a lie and he hadn't known she existed before thirty seconds ago, the bright smile she gave him was worth it.
"Yeah?" she said, leaning back into Chad and crossing her arms amicably across her chest. Her eyes twinkled. "What've you heard?"
"Uh," Jared said. Chad was giving him desperate signals behind her back, ones that involved a lot of arm waving and throat slitting, and he had no idea what any of them meant. So he went with the truth. "He finds your last name hilarious."
Sophia's eyebrows soared, and then she whirled around to glare at Chad, hands on her hips. "Chad! Ugh, you're such an immature freak."
Chad wilted and waited until she had her back turned, headed towards the kitchen for a cup of coffee, and then shoved Jared with all his might (which wasn't much, because Chad was built like a stick). "Dude!" he hissed through gritted teeth. "Thanks for that. Douche."
Jared laughed and knocked against Chad's shoulder with his own, nearly sending him into the soup-stocked shelves. "I was just being honest."
Chad pulled a face and flipped him the bird before kicking off his shoes and padding over to Sophia in his socks. He slid his hands into her front pockets, and Jared watched as she jumped a little, nearly dropping the kettle, then turned and made a face somewhere between a scowl and a smile. "Go away," she said, but she was laughing. "Jerk."
Just then, the door burst open so violently that Jared was afraid it had been torn clean off its hinges. Thankfully, after hitting the wall hard enough on its inward swing to leave a doorknob-shaped hole behind, the second of the two young men barging in had no trouble closing it. The first guy-tall, dark-haired, dressed in a loose blue polo and jeans, and not that bad-looking at all-looked apologetic about the damage done to the wall, and turned to give the guy behind him-grinning, bald, wearing a wife-beater and were those leather pants?-a hard poke in the side. "Mike!" hissed Tall-Dark-and-Handsome. "Watch it."
Baldy just batted his eyelashes, and something in Jared's head clicked. These two were, of course, Tom and Mike, the friends-with-connections that Jared had been hearing so much about. Somehow, he hadn't pictured them quite like this.
"Tommy! Mikey!" Chad cried, letting go of Sophia and raising one hand in a two-fingered solute. "Back so soon? Thought you were going home to do things I didn't want to think about."
Mike returned the salute with one of his own, of the one-fingered variety. "You said your boy was coming today, so," he said, and his eyes found Jared. "Oh. Found him."
"He's not my boy," Chad piped up, sounding grossed out, as Tom and Mike toed off their shoes at the door and walked up.
"You must be Jared," Tom said, smiling and pumping Jared's hand up and down vigorously. "Chad talks about you all the frigging time. If I didn't know better-" He was cut off by more of Chad's whining ("Shut the fuck up, Tommy, that's so nasty!") and lapsed into silence, shaking his head.
Jared felt colour creep up his neck as Mike grinned up at him and asked, "So is it true that you got really drunk and nearly went home with-"
"No! Whatever it is, no," Jared said quickly, shooting a glare at Chad.
Mike howled with laughter and threw himself down on the couch. Tom followed, sitting so close that their thighs brushed, and soon Jared was pushed over in that direction by an overexcited Chad who yelled at Sophia, "Make me a sandwich, woman!" and was promptly beaned by a spatula. He dropped like a stone but was up and crawling onto the couch less than a minute later, clutching his head and groaning. Mike snickered at him for a full minute before Sophia threatened to give him the same treatment.
Jared glanced between Sophia and the three cowering men on the sofa and grinned, impressed. Sort of at a loss, he relaxed back against the lone kitchen counter and observed the scene before him: Tom was chuckling, a hand resting so absently on Mike's back that Jared wasn't even sure if he knew it was there, and looking between Chad and Mike with that same exasperated expression that Jared was so familiar with.
Mike was busy slapping Chad hard on the back, congratulating him on scoring such a winner. The comment earned him an eggbeater aimed at his head, but he ducked it and shot Sophia a toothy smile from behind his Chad-shaped shield. Chad himself was still nursing his aching skull, slapping away Mike's hands and complaining just like always.
Jared was struck by how easily he could see himself fitting in; how it was so close to what home life with Chad had been like-that is, chaotic and often painful, but fun as hell. Chad had always managed, despite his flaws, to find people who appreciated him (and if not that, then at least people who liked being around him at his expense), and this was no exception. It almost made Jared sad, seeing how close Tom, Mike, and Chad were after only a few months, when it had taken him years of his childhood to get under Chad's barriers and into his small circle of friends.
But, Jared reminded himself, that wasn't how it should go. He should be, and was, happy for Chad's friendship and his success-because the way Chad had described the movie really had made it seem like a sure thing; and for the first time, Jared felt a spark of excitement ignite inside him. He was writing a movie. In LA. One that was bound to be big and beautiful and famous.
It was going to be awesome, Jared was sure, and that was all the encouragement he needed to shake himself out of his thoughts, bounce over to the couch, and say, "Okay. So tell me about this movie."
Chad leapt at the opportunity to speak and began to explain at length, a little too fast for Jared to keep up. Tom and Mike occasionally spoke up with some sort of hilarious anecdote or helpful piece of information, but all Jared really managed to gather was that there was a guy named Jeffrey Something Morgan who owned some sort of bar and was into film-making, or something, and had a producer on hold, and Chad mentioned a girl named Jen-something about thirty times.
Jared held up his hands to shut them up. "Guys, I have no idea what you're talking about."
"It's okay," Mike said cheerfully. "We'll take you over tonight and Jenny will explain everything to you better than we ever could. Besides…"
Jared looked between Tom and Mike nervously. Even Chad wouldn't meet his eyes. "Um, what is it?"
Tom grimaced. "Well, see, Mr. Morgan doesn't exactly know you're, um, writing it." At the expression on Jared's face, he hastily explained, "Mr. Morgan really had his heart set on Justin being the writer, and uh, when we told him Justin walked, he wasn't happy. But if you can go in there and impress Jen and earn yourself a good word, you'll be all set in no time!"
Jared's head was spinning. Apparently this wasn't going to go as flawlessly as he'd hoped. "Jen?"
"You'll meet everyone tonight, don't worry," Chad said dismissively. "You keeping up all right, Jay-bird?" Without waiting for a response, he ploughed on: "So, listen, like I said, Mr. Morgan's been talking to this producer for months, and I think he's coming up soon to actually meet us and Jen and stuff, and he can meet you or whatever-"
Tom clapped a hand on Chad's shoulder. "I think that can wait until later. At least, after tonight," he said, shaking his head. "For now," he looked Jared up and down with a critical eye, "you look tired as hell and we need some time to make sure our plan is good to go." Jared made a feeble protest, but Tom lifted a finger for quiet. "Dude, you look like you're ready to drop. I know the time difference from Texas isn't that much, but you're going to need a long nap and a longer shower if you're going to be ready by tonight."
Jared nodded, suddenly too sleepy to do much else. Sophia took his arm and directed him to the second door down the hall-which led to a bedroom, exactly as he had hoped-but before she shut the door behind him, he heard Tom, Mike, and Chad talking in the living room. "We've got a lot of work to do," Chad was saying. "Got to make him look like a professional."
"Did you bring my suit, Mike?" Tom asked next. "He's a little taller than me, but it'll fit. And wait, did you bring the scissors?"
"Of course I brought the scissors," Mike said. "I'll make him look beee-yooo-tiful."
Jared swallowed hard. He had never thought he looked all that good in a suit, and he liked his hair how it was, damn it, but at this point, the bed was calling him too loudly for him to burst into the other room and put a stop to their plans. So he just peeled off his clothes and wormed his way between the sheets, and was blissfully, dreamlessly sleeping in moments.
-
Jared was woken up by the sound of his stomach growling an indeterminate amount of time later. Groggy, disoriented, and starving, he stumbled out of bed and for a moment had no idea where he was. But then the sounds of Chad talking animatedly filtered through the closed door, and Jared's whole body thrummed with remembrance. He raked a hand through his hair and stumbled towards the window to get a closer look at a gorgeous view of the sunset over Los Angeles.
It was the sight of the sun disappearing below the horizon that made Jared realise that he'd been asleep for a long time. He pulled on a shirt over his sweatpants and dashed out into the living room. Tom and Mike glanced up from where they were bent over a heated game of Connect Four and Chad quirked an eyebrow at his dishevelled appearance, but before they could say anything, Jared said in a rush, "I like my hair how it is and uh, nobody woke me up, so do I still have time to eat-"
"Jay, relax." Chad pointed to the open pizza box sitting beside him. "Grab a slice and then go take a long shower, man. I can smell you from here."
"Chad, shut up," Sophia said easily from her place in the crook of his arm.
Mike waggled the scissors at Jared over Tom's head. "Dude, I'm a professional," he said, grinning. At Jared's partly sceptical, mostly scared look, he added, "Don't look at me like that, I'm serious. I went to school for this shit."
Tom rolled his eyes and said, "He took one class. Four years ago."
Mike threw a red piece at him but didn't deny it. "Don't listen to Tom. I'm amazing. Anyway, J-dog"-and Jared couldn't help but wonder if Mike was calling him that because he couldn't remember his name-"hurry up and eat and shower so I can shave your head already. We can be twins!"
Shuddering at the thought and desperate to stave off his fate, Jared reached for a slice of pizza and challenged Tom to a game of Connect Four, which Jared lost spectacularly (and within the first minute and a half). When the sound of Chad laughing at him got old, Jared sulked into the tiny bathroom to shower. He shucked his clothes with the thought of that night's activities spinning in his mind, and when he climbed under the spray, the hot water against his skin felt better than he could ever have imagined it would.
He crawled out of the shower probably ten minutes after he should have, if Chad's banging on the door was any indication. When Jared poked his head into the hall with a fluffy, white towel coiled on his head, Chad scowled at him. "You totally used up all my hot water," he said, and stared at Jared's head accessory. "Also, dude. There is no word for how gay you are."
Jared just batted his eyelashes, and Chad groaned and turned away, a hand over his face. The movement made Jared notice that Chad was dressed up in a somewhat scruffy-looking suit and tie. It didn't suit him. "Just put on some clothes and get out here so Mike can work his magic, okay?" Chad shouted over his shoulder, all but running back into the living room.
Jared did as told and crept into the room a few minutes later after pulling on his UTSA sweatshirt and a pair of loose jeans. His wet hair flopped into his eyes and curled wetly at the back of his neck; as he stood in the doorway, flushing under Mike and Tom's scrutiny-and they, too, were all dolled up in fancy dress, so that didn't help-Jared detachedly acknowledged that it really did need a cut.
"Ready, Jared?" Mike said, standing up and clapping his hands.
Jared revised his earlier suspicion that Mike didn't know his name and schooled his nervousness into a polite smile. "You better be good at this," he said as Mike shooed him onto a rickety wooden chair and draped a towel over him.
"I'm the best," Mike replied, circling behind him, and Jared heard the scissors snip. A few seconds later, Mike cleared his throat and said, sounding strangely off, "Oh-oh, damn."
Jared's stomach sank. "Shit, what?"
Mike let out a nervous laugh. "No biggie, man. Just cut a little too much off."
"A little too much? Tell me you didn't-"
"It's okay, dude! Bald spots really work for some people, you know?"
Jared was out of his seat so fast that he knocked the chair over. He ran to the bathroom, desperately feeling the back of his head for the dreaded hairless patch, and spent a good thirty seconds trying to twist himself around in the mirror enough to see the back of his head. It was only when he heard the muffled laughter that he realised there was a reason that his fingers couldn't find it. Humiliated and furious, Jared stomped back into the living room. Chad's head was in his hands, and he was shaking he was laughing so hard. Sophia was patting his back and shooting sympathetic glances in Jared's direction, but her lips were twitching. Mike was half-collapsed in the (now upright again) chair, breathless and grinning.
Tom patted Jared gently on the shoulder. "Welcome to my world," he said grimly.
"Dude, you love it," Chad said at once, looking up.
Jared just glowered.
Mike wiped a tear from his eye and beckoned. "Lighten up, boy. Now come on back and I promise, no more jokes. I'll give you a real good cut."
Jared wouldn't have gone if Tom hadn't pushed him in Mike's direction, not releasing his hold on Jared's shoulders until he was moving in the right direction.
Mike didn't look even remotely apologetic as Jared plunked himself back down in the chair. He was still sniggering a little as he covered Jared in the towel and began to cut again. This time around, he didn't say anything, just silently circled Jared, snipping here and there. The silence was almost worse; Jared was afraid Mike had actually given him a huge bald spot on his head and, after his little joke, was too embarrassed to say anything. Tom and Chad were too busy examining a suit that Sophia was holding up to pay attention.
It seemed like an eternity later that the scissors stopped moving and Mike whipped the towel off of him with a flourish. Grinning, he leaned down and ran his hands through Jared's hair, tugging it into finger-wrecked perfection. "All done," he announced, pulling back and stepping aside so Tom, Chad, and Sophia could admire his handiwork.
Jared waited for the horror to appear on their faces, but they just smiled and nodded. Sophia even gave him a thumbs-up.
"Looks good," Tom said, glancing at Mike, who beamed and puffed out his chest at the compliment. "You're better than I give you credit for."
Chad bypassed Jared's new look completely and just said, "Get your ass over here. Want to see how this suit's gonna look."
Jared paid him no mind, instead heading for the bathroom to check if his hair really looked as good as they said it did, or if they were lying through their teeth. He stopped in front of the mirror, steeled himself, and met his reflection's eyes. The sight surprised him.
It did look good. Mike apparently knew what he was doing. It wasn't that much shorter-still quite long, curling in waves about his face-but it looked… styled. Artfully tousled, even. Shaped to his head. He flicked lazily at his fringe, smiled into the mirror, and marched back into the living room. The next step involved Tom's suit, and even though Jared had to admit it was a nice suit, black and fitted and pressed clean, the inch of difference between Jared and Tom suddenly seemed huge. A glimpse of his socks was visible between the bottoms of his trousers and his shiny black shoes, and the sleeves were stupidly short. Jared frowned; it was easy to imagine how silly he looked, and Sophia's crestfallen expression only confirmed it.
Chad's eyes narrowed and before Jared could stop him, he walked over and unceremoniously tugged Jared's trousers southward. Yelping, Jared jumped away from his touch and refused to let him get within reach until Chad let out an annoyed exhale and said, "Pull your pants down, moron! You've got a jacket, nobody'll notice if they're hanging a little low. Anything to cover those stupid socks."
Jared stuck a foot out in front of him. "Hey," he protested feebly, "I like these socks. Megan gave me these socks."
Chad ignored him and Jared stubbornly reached to hike up his pants to a decent place, only to be stopped by Tom's hand closing around his wrist. Bewildered, Jared looked at him. "Dude, if you really wanted to see me without my pants on, all you needed to do was ask," he said pointedly, trying to shake free of Tom's hold.
Tom went a dull red but said, voice steady, "No, I think Chad's right. And-we'll have to do something about the sleeves, too."
Mike had a solution to that. "Roll them up," he urged, miming it on his own arms. "You're going to a bar, not to a damn executive meeting. There's no need to look like a tightass. Just… professional."
Jared rolled his eyes but did as told, then pulled his pants a little further down at Tom's insistence. At the end of it, he felt a little idiotic, with his expensive trousers slung low on his hips and the silky black sleeves of his suit jacket rolled up to the elbow. Self-conscious, he ran a hand through his hair and squared his shoulders. "Well?" he said, taking a quick look down at himself. "Do I look as silly as I feel?"
Sophia grinned and swatted his shoulder. "Honey, you clean up real nice," she told him primly, and to his surprise, Tom and Mike echoed her statement with some serious nodding; even Chad grudgingly mumbled something about Jared's fashion sense that didn't sound too offensive.
Jared felt his face splitting in a grin. "Okay, then," he said. "I'm ready to go!"
As it turned out, he wasn't ready. At all. Not even a little. As soon as they left the apartment, Jared began to rack his brains, trying to guess the kind of place they were headed. He imagined a shady, squat building made out of red, chipping brick, complete with a neon sign where only half the letters were alight: a bar filled with aged patrons sleepily watching a football game on cracked screens.
Satine was anything but.
He'd been wrong in thinking it was a bar in the first place; the fact that it was the very gay club Chad had mentioned once or twice in his phone calls had somehow not been mentioned.
But it was unlike any gay club Jared had ever been to (not that he'd been to that many, living in San Antonio and right down the road from his parents). It stretched sky-high, throwing everything around it into shadow: a ritzy former dance hall decked in red satin and blinking lights that had been shut down in the fifties, Tom informed him, before Jeff Morgan had reopened it about ten years ago.
It was almost ridiculously fancy. As if the building itself wasn't enough, the multicoloured lights shining out of the club's windows highlighted a tall, wrought iron fence bracketing the premises and the bouncers stationed at all times outside the gate. As Jared watched Tom and Mike casually greet them, IDs at the ready, he thought that they were less bouncers and more plain old guards. Built like brick shithouses, black suits straining over their muscled chests, topped off with flat, mean faces and beady, unblinking eyes. "Don't get on their bad side" went without saying.
Jared stuck to Chad like glue, gave the guards a tiny smile as he passed, flashing his own ID, and didn't breathe until he was well inside the fence and standing outside the door. Which was less of a door and more of a cavernous hole in the wall made out of glass and yet more red satin. It was easy to see where the place got its name.
Jared felt stupid with nervousness as Chad took him by the elbow and all but walked him inside. No sooner had the door shut behind them than Jared was overwhelmed by sheer sensation; sounds from all around pulsed in his ears, a terrible cacophony of screaming and shouting and above that a pounding rhythm booming from the speakers; his eyes crossed with the effort of taking it in and he craned his neck to see it all, mouth agape. He'd never thought he'd had a particularly sheltered childhood, but this-this-rendered him speechless, swept away in the excitement of it, like he was lost at sea without a prayer.
Mike laughed at his wonderment and slapped him on the back. "You'll get used to it!" he shouted over the music.
Doubting that, Jared shook his head helplessly. "What's the plan?" he hissed in Chad's ear.
"I'll explain-hold on-" Chad grabbed Jared's arm and unceremoniously began to tug him through the throng of people. Jared felt something pulling on the back of his suit jacket that he could only assume was Mike or Tom trying to keep up. He allowed himself to be pulled to a quieter corner, away from the speakers and most of the crowd, and into a narrow booth. Chad slid in beside him, knocking a plaque that read Reserved onto the floor as Tom and Mike took the seats opposite.
"Okay," Chad said, letting out a long exhale. He turned an exasperated look on Tom and Mike. "Dude, this place is so crazy."
"Should've seen it at New Year's," Mike said, almost wistfully. "Makes tonight seem lame. Anyway!" he added, slamming an open palm on the table and taking a discreet glance around. "Look, Jared, this is almost impossible to fuck up-some people are going to come out and dance, then after the show you'll head up to Jenny's room and make yourself look awesome. Easy as pie."
Jared swallowed hard, more nervous than he was willing to admit. "Where's Jenny now?"
Tom peered into the crowd. "Jen-likes to keep to-" he told Jared, half of his sentence lost in the start of a new song. "Should be around here with Mr. Morgan somewhere-there." He extended a pointing finger towards a stage-like structure in the centre of the room. It was swamped with people-they stood near it, on it, at tables around it. It should've been easy to pick out the petite figure of a girl in the sea of men, but no matter how Jared twisted and squinted into the crowd, he couldn't see anyone that looked very likely to be female.
"Is she Mr. Morgan's daughter or something?" he called over the music, still trying to spot her.
"Who?" Mike blinked at him, apparently bewildered.
"Jenny!"
"What?"
Jared shook his head and made a forget it gesture, then turned back to the throng. There were no girls in sight, but-but. Jared's breath caught in his throat and he leaned up, out of his seat, for a better view of a man standing at the edge of the stage. He was half turned away from Jared, standing close to a grizzled older guy; in the fluorescent light shining down from above, Jared got a clear picture of a sculpted profile, pale skin awash with freckles. The black suit the man was wearing was a little like the one Jared had on, except it fit him almost too well. It clung to every curve of his body, all broad shoulders down to narrow hips and long legs.
And then he turned and Jared's heart skipped a beat, because the guy was definitely looking straight at him. Jared swallowed hard and sunk into his seat. Even from this distance, it was easy to see that the guy was gorgeous. Jared took a deep breath to steady himself and met the mysterious man's eyes-two glints of green under heavy lashes that Jared could see from where he sat-and felt stupidly bereft when the guy looked away again.
"Who-" Jared said, a little breathlessly, turning back to Chad, Tom, and Mike, all thoughts of Jenny swept from his mind. "That guy, over there-in the suit-"
Chad gave him a withering look. "That's-" he began, but the rest of his sentence was lost in a sudden round of cheering. The show was starting.
"What?"
"I said-" but it was gone again, vanishing in the din.
"What?"
"Jen!" Chad bellowed in his ear.
"That's Jen?" Jared repeated in disbelief, because okay, totally not a girl. Not a girl at all.
"Jensen!" Chad said irritably.
Oh. Oh. Jared sat there for a moment, mouth opening and closing silently like a fish, before turning back and craning his neck for another glimpse of the guy-Jen, Jenny, Jensen. He was nowhere to be seen, but the older man he'd been standing with was climbing the stage as if about to make a speech.
Jared slunk down in his seat, pressing himself against the sticky, laminated cushion. So, yeah. Not ready in the slightest.
part two
Full header in MASTER POST.
"Jay," Chad had said to Jared the day he left, "you're going to get a call from me in a few months time, and I'm going to make you fucking regret not coming with me, because I'm going to be a famous movie star with a really hot chick on my arm-and okay, I know that part doesn't interest you, cocksucker-and you are going to be stuck in Assfuck, Texas, dirt-poor, probably back living with Mommy and Daddy while I make it big. Not, like, you big, sasquatch, because I swear there's something wrong with you-"
Jared had chucked a pillow at his head and told him to get the fuck out, and that was that. One hug and Chad was out the door, and Jared was waving goodbye from the window, watching his college roommate and childhood best friend pile all his shit into his run-down truck and leave for Los Angeles with no intent to return.
Chad had always been a big dreamer, so Jared had passed off his farewell speech as just that-a dream-and that was exactly why his phone call came as such a surprise. It was mid-May, four months after Chad up and left (and Jared missed the guy more than he was willing to admit), and Jared was sprawled half off the dilapidated hammock he'd bought at a yard sale in April, fast asleep. A hard kick to the shin jerked him out of his nap and he squint-glared up at the slim silhouette leaning over him, waving a cordless phone in her hand.
"Wake up, JT," Megan said, dropping the phone onto his chest. "Chad's on the phone for you."
Jared grumbled and sat up, still too disoriented to fully take that in. He should've known that letting his little sister move in with him was a terrible idea, but she'd been whining about being an adult now and how mom and dad were stifling her creative juices or something, and didn't he have a spare room, anyway? It hadn't seemed so bad at the time-probably, he thinks sulkily, because he'd downed three beers by the time she asked.
"Wait," Jared said, tearing himself out of his thoughts and glancing muzzily between the phone resting on his breastbone and his retreating sister. "Who's on the-what?"
Megan rolled her eyes. "Chad, dipshit," she said, hands on her hips, and flounced back inside.
Jared fumbled the phone to his ear. "Chad?" he said, digging the heel of his free hand into his eye and swallowing a yawn. He stumbled free of the hammock and stretched. "What's up, man? It's been a while."
Chad called every week or two, usually, just to update Jared on how his life wasn't taking off, how boring LA was, and most recently, how the only person on his arm was a big, muscled creeper who had flirted with him that one time his new friends had forced him to go with them to a gay bar. (Jared liked the sound of Chad's new friends.) But he hadn't called in a little over a month, and it was good to hear from him.
"I told you! I fucking told you!" Chad shouted gleefully into the phone.
Jared winced and held the receiver away from his ear. "What?" He reached down and scratched at his flat stomach absently as Chad started talking a mile a minute-way too fast for Jared to keep up; something about Chad's new friends and some chick called Sophia-and followed Megan inside. He ruffled her hair as he passed the countertop on which she was perched, ducked the answering swat, and stuck his head in the fridge. "Chad," he said after taking a swig of milk straight from the carton-"Gross, JT," Megan groaned from behind him-and flopping down on his ratty couch. "Chad, dude, slow down and start again."
Chad's annoyed exhale was deafening. "Jared," he whinged. "Pay the fuck attention, man. You didn't forget what I said to you when I left, did you?"
Jared tilted his head back against the cushions and racked his brains. "Uh."
"Dude," Chad said when Jared didn't go on, sounding deeply affronted. "I said to you that I was going to be big, remember, moron? You know. Hot girl on my arm. Famous movie star."
"Oh, yeah," Jared laughed. "That dream finally come crashing down? Let me guess, you auditioned for something and they told you sucked, so now you're coming back here to crash on my couch and drink yourself into an early, emo grave."
"Shut the fuck up."
"Is that a yes?"
"No!" Chad said indignantly, and Jared laughed and then fell silent, giving him an opportunity to actually explain. "Okay, now that you've stopped being a dickweed," Chad said irritably, "I'll tell you. So, you know Tom and Mike, right? Well, not know-know, but whatever. I've told you about them. Turns out they've got connections, dude. Real celebrity connections. And it turns out that Tom's all lined up to direct this movie for Jeffrey Dean Morgan, 'cause his boy wants to get famous-"
"Jeffrey Dean who?"
"Morgan," Chad said happily. "Anyway. Anyway. So we've got it all planned out; Tom's going to direct, okay, and Mike and I, we're going to be in it, and it's going to be so big-but there's a problem."
Jared shook his head. Even slowed down, things were moving a little too fast for him. He couldn't help but wonder if most of what Chad was telling him was a dream, or maybe a drug-induced hallucination. "What?" he said anyway, humouring Chad.
"Well, see, Justin walked out on us last week, and we-we need a writer."
Jared's eyebrows soared. "Oh, no. No, no, no. Chad, you're not-"
"C'mon, Jay," Chad wheedled, and Jared could see him plain as day: squinty eyes wide, mouth stretched in a grin, hands clasped in front of him. "You love writing. Always said to me that you wanted to write. Come on, what better way to get your career started than this? You're not going to turn me down, Jay, are you? Dude, you're going to leave your best fucking friend in the dust?"
"Chad, are you high?" Jared said in disbelief, shrugging at Megan's raised eyebrow as she plunked herself down, cross-legged, beside him. Just Chad being Chad, he mouthed at her. Into the mouthpiece, he continued, "Dude, I'm hanging up. Call me back when your head's on strai-"
"Jay, shut up, I'm completely sober on every level," Chad snapped. "Mike's here. You want to talk to Mike? I'll hand you to Mike. He'll tell you." Then, muffled, like he'd put his hand over the receiver: "You'll tell him, won't you, Mike?" A pause. "What do you mean, no? Oh, fuck you." Chad's voice became clear again, and he said sulkily, "Mike's an asshole and hates the phone. But I'm serious, Jared. I'm not even fucking kidding you."
Jared scrubbed a hand over his face. "Okay, you're serious. I'm still not going to LA."
Megan's head snapped up at that, her eyes alight. Without preamble, she surged forward and grabbed the phone out of Jared's hand, too quick for him to stop her. "Hey, Chad?" she said, pressing it against her ear. "Hi, this is Megan. Yeah, Jay's little sister, dumbass. What other-anyway. Jared can totally go to LA."
Jared gaped at her. "Megan!" he shouted, grappling for the phone.
She tugged it out of his reach and beamed at him, still talking to Chad. "Yeah, no problem," she said, nodding. "Okay. Well. I've got to talk to JT, so he'll call you back later. Okay. Bye now. Kisses," and she hung up, just like that. She spent a millisecond staring at the phone before lobbing it at Jared with, he couldn't help but think as he cradled his sure to be bruised stomach, a lot more force than necessary; then Megan looked up and Jared saw her eyes were fucking twinkling.
Yeah, letting her move in had definitely been a bad idea.
"Megan," Jared said, annunciating carefully slow. "Why would you get Chad's hopes up like that?"
"Because, Jared," she said just as slowly, rising and turning away from the couch, headed back to where a gossip magazine lay open on the counter, "why wouldn't you want to go to LA?"
Jared scowled. "I don't want to get caught up in one of Chad's stupid schemes. I love him like a brother, but sometimes the guy is just-"
"I know how he is, JT. Unfortunately, before college, your house was my house, and I had to endure the guy every afternoon after school, and sometimes on the weekend. Pure, unadulterated torture, bro. No one deserves that, not even, like, Charles Manson. Or OJ." She levelled a wooden cooking spoon at him from her safe place near the sink. "Huh? Huh?"
Jared sort of wanted to say, He's not that bad, but what came out instead was, "He wants me to write some stupid movie that he thinks will get him and his friends famous."
Megan cocked an eyebrow at him. Her arms were immersed in sudsy water up to the elbow: she was starting dinner. "So? If it works, maybe you'll get famous too. I don't see the issue, JT. Look, the worst case scenario is that you'll spend a few weeks, a month or two tops, in sunny, polluted LA, surrounded by movie stars, crashing at Chad's place and smoking weed all the time. You'll actually do some writing instead of just planning to"-Jared opens his mouth to protest at that, but she raises a soapy hand to shut him up-"and then you'll come home again and return to your sad, boring, lonely life."
Jared was pretty sure that if he kept scowling his face might stick, so he schooled his expression into something civil and crossed his arms over his chest.
Megan smirked and flicked a few bubbles in his direction. "And if you're real lucky, maybe you'll actually write something good, and if Chad and his buddies can pull it off, who knows what could happen? You could be on the cover of People within a year." She struck a dramatic pose and said, "'Young writer to win prestigious prize! Record-breaking movie sales shoot writer Jared Padalecki to the top of LA's ten most eligible bachelors!' Can't you imagine it? The paparazzi would be all over you-is he? Isn't he? 'Padalecki caught pants down with mysterious man!'"
Jared gave up on fighting the smile threatening to spread across his face and flung a cushion at her. She screamed and ducked, and it hit the cabinet behind her. Shaking his head, Jared eyed her up and down and said, all at once knowing exactly what she was up to, "You want me out of the house, don't you?"
Megan blushed and ducked her head. "Look. Matt is coming home for a few weeks, and I…"
Jared flattened himself against the couch, stricken. "Ew. Ew. Okay, okay, I'll go," he said, laughing when Megan ran around the counter to tackle him to the floor. His getaway wasn't quick enough; he ended up flat on his stomach, the wind thoroughly knocked out of him, with Megan sitting proudly atop him.
"JT, you're such a jerk," she said, beating at his back with her fists, but she was laughing and it wasn't long before Jared was too.
About the time Megan was serving up dinner-spaghetti bolognaise, her specialty-Jared called Chad back and had to physically hold the phone away from his ear as he said that, yes, he'd come to LA, and yes, he'd give writing their stupid movie a shot. "You better start moving your stuff into the living room," Jared said, "because I am not sleeping on the fucking couch. And you wouldn't want your writer's creativity stunted by a bad night's sleep, would you?"
"Guest room," Chad said triumphantly. He waited a beat before adding, "Thanks, Jay."
He sounded so sincere that it threw Jared off a little, and he laughed to ease the tension. Chad never thanked anybody. "Yeah, no problem, squinty," he teased. "I'll be flying up on Saturday." When Chad's only answer was a derisive snort, Jared rolled his eyes. "Look, just because you decided it would be a great idea to take a road trip halfway across America doesn't mean I'm going to do it. I'll expect you to pay me back for the tickets, by the way. Fame doesn't come cheap, Chad," Jared added when Chad groaned.
"Shut up, sasquatch," Chad said, but there was no heat to it. "I'll see you Saturday."
"Yeah," Jared said, quieter, more serious. The line went dead a second later, and Jared just sat there staring at it for a moment before hanging it back in its cradle. Megan was staring at him over her bowl of pasta, and when he joined her at the table she said, "Well, JT. Guess the least I can do is help you pack up."
-
Jared spent the next two days throwing all his belongings into two duffel bags, triple-checking his plane tickets, and explaining to his parents at length that Chad's going through a rough time, and needs some support. Instead of arguing, they wished him the best. "Maybe you'll meet a nice girl while you're there," his mother said, and Jared yet again didn't mention just how unlikely that was. Instead, he smiled and hugged them goodbye and let Megan drive him to the airport.
"I'll see you, JT," she said, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek as the crowd in Gate 17 began to disperse. "Stay out of trouble."
Jared laughed and ruffled her hair. "Don't you tell me that, squirt," he said fondly, and gave a quick hug before hefting his rucksack over one shoulder and hurrying to get his ticket checked in. The stewardess behind the counter let him on the plane without the hitch he'd been dreading, and he even found his way to his seat with little problem: A46, by the window. The place beside him was taken up a few minutes later by a slim, older man who ignored Jared in favour of burying his nose in the safety brochure.
"Nervous flyer?" Jared tried. The man didn't even look up, and Jared shrugged, content to mind his own business. He was just reaching into his bag for the book he'd grabbed for the flight when his mobile buzzed in his pocket, announcing the arrival of new text messages. There was one from Chad ("u better b on time assface"), two from Megan ("have fun jt" and "ps i hear there r hot guys in la bring 1 home 4 me plz matt is not hot enough lol"), and one from his brother-"Don't do anything stupid. Put that computer of mine to good use. Love, Jeff."
Jared shook his head and switched his phone off, shoving it into his bag beside his brother's laptop, given to Jared as an early birthday present just a few weeks before. No sooner had he done that than a blonde stewardess appeared at the front of the plane and began to instruct them on safety procedures. The man beside Jared drank in her words with wide eyes, all the while clutching onto his seat like a lifeline.
Sighing, Jared pressed himself up against the porthole and squeezed his eyes shut. He got up at ass o'clock that morning to catch the flight, and he figured that the only way he wouldn't be dead by the time he arrived in LA was if he could catch some shut-eye. As far as Jared could remember, he'd never tried to sleep on a plane before-mostly just spent the time making the people next to him uncomfortable with his chatter-but it couldn't be that hard.
Or, Jared lamented as he heaved himself out of his seat a few hours later, it really could. It really, really could. He spent the whole flight tossing and turning (which is hard to do in a damn tiny seat not made for people over six foot) and inadvertently annoying the shit out of the guy next to him; and standing in the baggage claim, keeping a bleary eye out for Chad's scruffy, squinty-eyed face, Jared couldn't see himself being productive ever again.
"I'm fucking tired," he told Chad when Chad finally showed up half an hour later. "Don't tell me to be on time if you're not going to bother showing up for-for-" He wasn't even awake enough to form a good argument. Exhausted, he dropped his head on Chad's shoulder, content to doze off there and drool on Chad's shirt.
Chad, being Chad, shoved him off. "Dude, I think your gaydar is malfunctioning," he said, pulling a face and wiping at his shoulder. At Jared's sleepy-eyed glare, he smirked and grabbed the duffels out of Jared's arms. "What, did the movie suck, or something?"
"You have no idea," Jared groaned, letting Chad steer him to the car. "I promise, I'll tell you all about it once I'm a person again."
Chad pushed him into the passenger seat and threw his bags in the back. "I'll pass," he said, sliding into the driver's seat and handing Jared a cup of coffee, which he inhaled gratefully. "Try to get some sleep or something, Jay. It's a while to my place."
Jared mumbled something between an affirmative and a thank you at Chad's uncharacteristic sweetness and was asleep within moments, the worn upholstery of Chad's truck a million times better than the airplane's scratchy seats.
-
When Jared woke up to Chad prodding him hard in the side, he felt less like he dozed for an hour and more like he slept for forty years. Groggy but energised, he swatted Chad's hands away, rolled out of the car, looked at Chad's apartment building, and decreed loudly, "It looked better in pictures."
"Shut the fuck up, dude," Chad grumbled, back to normal, and appeared at Jared's side with both duffel bags in his arms. "It's a goddamn palace. Just wait until you get inside." A keychain with a single key and a small figurine of a half-naked girl was dangling from Chad's mouth, and Jared took it with a laugh and let Chad lead the way up three flights of stairs. ("The elevator's broken," Chad told him grouchily. "And if you laugh at me one more time I'm going to throw your bags out the window. You know who'd be laughing then, motherfucker? Me.")
As Chad was battling with the luggage, Jared let them into the apartment-14G, though Jared only knew that because Chad told him; the number was scratched clean off the plaque-and stood back to observe as Chad dumped his bags on the floor and spun around, arms spread wide.
"Well?" Chad said expectantly. "Beautiful, no?"
Jared raised an eyebrow and moved further into the front room. A few squares of tile in one corner served as a kitchen, which really was nothing more than a small counter, a fridge that looked as if it had barely survived World War II, a rusted cooker, and a few shelves stocked with what looked like rows upon rows of canned soup. The rest of the room was taken up by a ratty couch and a widescreen TV that Chad couldn't possibly have afforded. Down a small hallway to Jared's right, there was a bathroom about the size of a linen closet, and two closed doors-both bedrooms, Jared hoped, because Chad had mentioned a guest room and the couch looked uncomfortable as all hell.
Jared scratched the back of his neck, looking up to avoid answering. He was immediately greeted by the sight of some suspicious-looking stains on the ceiling. Gazing out the window was a bust too, as the windowpanes were black with dirt and looked like they wouldn't get cleaner even if he took steel wool to them.
"Chad," he said, finally, "this place is a dump."
Chad scowled and kicked at one of Jared's duffels. "I like it, asswipe," he said crossly. "It's a million times better than your shithole."
Jared thought back on his small, clean house, with its huge patio windows and grassy backyard and sunny, inviting rooms. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to be back there, lounging on his comfy, cushion-heaped couch, even if the cost was overhearing Megan and Matt getting it on in the other room. "Whatever you say, man."
Chad ran a hand through his short hair and stomped over to the kitchen. "Dude, you better be as good a writer as you always tell me you are, because this is so not worth it. I did not bring you here to trash my place."
"When have I ever told you that I'm a-"
"Chad, they don't understand true talent!" Chad mimicked, his desperate hand-wringing punctuated with high, fake sobs. "Why didn't they pick meee-"
"I hate you."
"Right back atcha, big boy," Chad said with a grin, taking a box of cookies down from the highest shelf and tossing a few in his mouth. "Man, did Sophia go out?" He ambled towards the dim hallway and was halfway to the first door when Jared said, "Sophia?"
Chad whirled around. "Dude, I told you about her." At Jared's blank look, he twisted his face into a disparaging look and added, "On the phone. Remember? I reminded you about the whole having-a-hot-chick-on-my-arm thing. Said that I'd met this insanely hot girl called Sophia few weeks ago?"
Jared raised his eyebrows. "You met her a few weeks ago and she already moved in?"
"No," Chad said quickly, his ears reddening. "She just stays here most nights. What do you take me for? Anyway, get this." He leaned towards Jared, cupping a hand around his mouth like it was some big secret, and practically giggled, "Her name is Sophia Bush. You know, like-"
Jared pulled back and shook his head, abruptly recalling just how immature Chad could be. He took a moment to worry about the safety of his eyeballs, which might become strained or something weird like that from all the eye-rolling he was bound to be doing. "Jesus Christ, Chad. What are you, twelve?"
"Chad?" came a sleepy voice, cutting off Chad's indignant hey! and Jared looked up to see a pretty, dark-haired girl slip out of the second door down the hall, dressed in an oversized t-shirt but not much else. Her hand froze mid-wave, and she blinked in confusion at the sight of not one but two men standing in the living room-cum-kitchen. Just as Jared raised a hand in a hello, she let out a soft squeak, looked down at her state of undress, and disappeared back inside.
As soon as she was gone, Chad turned back to Jared and mouthed, Awesome, huh?
Jared sighed, flapping an exasperated hand in the air just as Sophia re-emerged, this time with jeans on.
"Hey," she said, sidling past Chad with a lingering touch to his side and offering a hand to Jared. "I'm Sophia. You must be Jared. I've heard so much about you!"
Jared shook her hand warmly and said, "Yeah, that'd be me. I've heard lots about you, too." Even though it was a lie and he hadn't known she existed before thirty seconds ago, the bright smile she gave him was worth it.
"Yeah?" she said, leaning back into Chad and crossing her arms amicably across her chest. Her eyes twinkled. "What've you heard?"
"Uh," Jared said. Chad was giving him desperate signals behind her back, ones that involved a lot of arm waving and throat slitting, and he had no idea what any of them meant. So he went with the truth. "He finds your last name hilarious."
Sophia's eyebrows soared, and then she whirled around to glare at Chad, hands on her hips. "Chad! Ugh, you're such an immature freak."
Chad wilted and waited until she had her back turned, headed towards the kitchen for a cup of coffee, and then shoved Jared with all his might (which wasn't much, because Chad was built like a stick). "Dude!" he hissed through gritted teeth. "Thanks for that. Douche."
Jared laughed and knocked against Chad's shoulder with his own, nearly sending him into the soup-stocked shelves. "I was just being honest."
Chad pulled a face and flipped him the bird before kicking off his shoes and padding over to Sophia in his socks. He slid his hands into her front pockets, and Jared watched as she jumped a little, nearly dropping the kettle, then turned and made a face somewhere between a scowl and a smile. "Go away," she said, but she was laughing. "Jerk."
Just then, the door burst open so violently that Jared was afraid it had been torn clean off its hinges. Thankfully, after hitting the wall hard enough on its inward swing to leave a doorknob-shaped hole behind, the second of the two young men barging in had no trouble closing it. The first guy-tall, dark-haired, dressed in a loose blue polo and jeans, and not that bad-looking at all-looked apologetic about the damage done to the wall, and turned to give the guy behind him-grinning, bald, wearing a wife-beater and were those leather pants?-a hard poke in the side. "Mike!" hissed Tall-Dark-and-Handsome. "Watch it."
Baldy just batted his eyelashes, and something in Jared's head clicked. These two were, of course, Tom and Mike, the friends-with-connections that Jared had been hearing so much about. Somehow, he hadn't pictured them quite like this.
"Tommy! Mikey!" Chad cried, letting go of Sophia and raising one hand in a two-fingered solute. "Back so soon? Thought you were going home to do things I didn't want to think about."
Mike returned the salute with one of his own, of the one-fingered variety. "You said your boy was coming today, so," he said, and his eyes found Jared. "Oh. Found him."
"He's not my boy," Chad piped up, sounding grossed out, as Tom and Mike toed off their shoes at the door and walked up.
"You must be Jared," Tom said, smiling and pumping Jared's hand up and down vigorously. "Chad talks about you all the frigging time. If I didn't know better-" He was cut off by more of Chad's whining ("Shut the fuck up, Tommy, that's so nasty!") and lapsed into silence, shaking his head.
Jared felt colour creep up his neck as Mike grinned up at him and asked, "So is it true that you got really drunk and nearly went home with-"
"No! Whatever it is, no," Jared said quickly, shooting a glare at Chad.
Mike howled with laughter and threw himself down on the couch. Tom followed, sitting so close that their thighs brushed, and soon Jared was pushed over in that direction by an overexcited Chad who yelled at Sophia, "Make me a sandwich, woman!" and was promptly beaned by a spatula. He dropped like a stone but was up and crawling onto the couch less than a minute later, clutching his head and groaning. Mike snickered at him for a full minute before Sophia threatened to give him the same treatment.
Jared glanced between Sophia and the three cowering men on the sofa and grinned, impressed. Sort of at a loss, he relaxed back against the lone kitchen counter and observed the scene before him: Tom was chuckling, a hand resting so absently on Mike's back that Jared wasn't even sure if he knew it was there, and looking between Chad and Mike with that same exasperated expression that Jared was so familiar with.
Mike was busy slapping Chad hard on the back, congratulating him on scoring such a winner. The comment earned him an eggbeater aimed at his head, but he ducked it and shot Sophia a toothy smile from behind his Chad-shaped shield. Chad himself was still nursing his aching skull, slapping away Mike's hands and complaining just like always.
Jared was struck by how easily he could see himself fitting in; how it was so close to what home life with Chad had been like-that is, chaotic and often painful, but fun as hell. Chad had always managed, despite his flaws, to find people who appreciated him (and if not that, then at least people who liked being around him at his expense), and this was no exception. It almost made Jared sad, seeing how close Tom, Mike, and Chad were after only a few months, when it had taken him years of his childhood to get under Chad's barriers and into his small circle of friends.
But, Jared reminded himself, that wasn't how it should go. He should be, and was, happy for Chad's friendship and his success-because the way Chad had described the movie really had made it seem like a sure thing; and for the first time, Jared felt a spark of excitement ignite inside him. He was writing a movie. In LA. One that was bound to be big and beautiful and famous.
It was going to be awesome, Jared was sure, and that was all the encouragement he needed to shake himself out of his thoughts, bounce over to the couch, and say, "Okay. So tell me about this movie."
Chad leapt at the opportunity to speak and began to explain at length, a little too fast for Jared to keep up. Tom and Mike occasionally spoke up with some sort of hilarious anecdote or helpful piece of information, but all Jared really managed to gather was that there was a guy named Jeffrey Something Morgan who owned some sort of bar and was into film-making, or something, and had a producer on hold, and Chad mentioned a girl named Jen-something about thirty times.
Jared held up his hands to shut them up. "Guys, I have no idea what you're talking about."
"It's okay," Mike said cheerfully. "We'll take you over tonight and Jenny will explain everything to you better than we ever could. Besides…"
Jared looked between Tom and Mike nervously. Even Chad wouldn't meet his eyes. "Um, what is it?"
Tom grimaced. "Well, see, Mr. Morgan doesn't exactly know you're, um, writing it." At the expression on Jared's face, he hastily explained, "Mr. Morgan really had his heart set on Justin being the writer, and uh, when we told him Justin walked, he wasn't happy. But if you can go in there and impress Jen and earn yourself a good word, you'll be all set in no time!"
Jared's head was spinning. Apparently this wasn't going to go as flawlessly as he'd hoped. "Jen?"
"You'll meet everyone tonight, don't worry," Chad said dismissively. "You keeping up all right, Jay-bird?" Without waiting for a response, he ploughed on: "So, listen, like I said, Mr. Morgan's been talking to this producer for months, and I think he's coming up soon to actually meet us and Jen and stuff, and he can meet you or whatever-"
Tom clapped a hand on Chad's shoulder. "I think that can wait until later. At least, after tonight," he said, shaking his head. "For now," he looked Jared up and down with a critical eye, "you look tired as hell and we need some time to make sure our plan is good to go." Jared made a feeble protest, but Tom lifted a finger for quiet. "Dude, you look like you're ready to drop. I know the time difference from Texas isn't that much, but you're going to need a long nap and a longer shower if you're going to be ready by tonight."
Jared nodded, suddenly too sleepy to do much else. Sophia took his arm and directed him to the second door down the hall-which led to a bedroom, exactly as he had hoped-but before she shut the door behind him, he heard Tom, Mike, and Chad talking in the living room. "We've got a lot of work to do," Chad was saying. "Got to make him look like a professional."
"Did you bring my suit, Mike?" Tom asked next. "He's a little taller than me, but it'll fit. And wait, did you bring the scissors?"
"Of course I brought the scissors," Mike said. "I'll make him look beee-yooo-tiful."
Jared swallowed hard. He had never thought he looked all that good in a suit, and he liked his hair how it was, damn it, but at this point, the bed was calling him too loudly for him to burst into the other room and put a stop to their plans. So he just peeled off his clothes and wormed his way between the sheets, and was blissfully, dreamlessly sleeping in moments.
-
Jared was woken up by the sound of his stomach growling an indeterminate amount of time later. Groggy, disoriented, and starving, he stumbled out of bed and for a moment had no idea where he was. But then the sounds of Chad talking animatedly filtered through the closed door, and Jared's whole body thrummed with remembrance. He raked a hand through his hair and stumbled towards the window to get a closer look at a gorgeous view of the sunset over Los Angeles.
It was the sight of the sun disappearing below the horizon that made Jared realise that he'd been asleep for a long time. He pulled on a shirt over his sweatpants and dashed out into the living room. Tom and Mike glanced up from where they were bent over a heated game of Connect Four and Chad quirked an eyebrow at his dishevelled appearance, but before they could say anything, Jared said in a rush, "I like my hair how it is and uh, nobody woke me up, so do I still have time to eat-"
"Jay, relax." Chad pointed to the open pizza box sitting beside him. "Grab a slice and then go take a long shower, man. I can smell you from here."
"Chad, shut up," Sophia said easily from her place in the crook of his arm.
Mike waggled the scissors at Jared over Tom's head. "Dude, I'm a professional," he said, grinning. At Jared's partly sceptical, mostly scared look, he added, "Don't look at me like that, I'm serious. I went to school for this shit."
Tom rolled his eyes and said, "He took one class. Four years ago."
Mike threw a red piece at him but didn't deny it. "Don't listen to Tom. I'm amazing. Anyway, J-dog"-and Jared couldn't help but wonder if Mike was calling him that because he couldn't remember his name-"hurry up and eat and shower so I can shave your head already. We can be twins!"
Shuddering at the thought and desperate to stave off his fate, Jared reached for a slice of pizza and challenged Tom to a game of Connect Four, which Jared lost spectacularly (and within the first minute and a half). When the sound of Chad laughing at him got old, Jared sulked into the tiny bathroom to shower. He shucked his clothes with the thought of that night's activities spinning in his mind, and when he climbed under the spray, the hot water against his skin felt better than he could ever have imagined it would.
He crawled out of the shower probably ten minutes after he should have, if Chad's banging on the door was any indication. When Jared poked his head into the hall with a fluffy, white towel coiled on his head, Chad scowled at him. "You totally used up all my hot water," he said, and stared at Jared's head accessory. "Also, dude. There is no word for how gay you are."
Jared just batted his eyelashes, and Chad groaned and turned away, a hand over his face. The movement made Jared notice that Chad was dressed up in a somewhat scruffy-looking suit and tie. It didn't suit him. "Just put on some clothes and get out here so Mike can work his magic, okay?" Chad shouted over his shoulder, all but running back into the living room.
Jared did as told and crept into the room a few minutes later after pulling on his UTSA sweatshirt and a pair of loose jeans. His wet hair flopped into his eyes and curled wetly at the back of his neck; as he stood in the doorway, flushing under Mike and Tom's scrutiny-and they, too, were all dolled up in fancy dress, so that didn't help-Jared detachedly acknowledged that it really did need a cut.
"Ready, Jared?" Mike said, standing up and clapping his hands.
Jared revised his earlier suspicion that Mike didn't know his name and schooled his nervousness into a polite smile. "You better be good at this," he said as Mike shooed him onto a rickety wooden chair and draped a towel over him.
"I'm the best," Mike replied, circling behind him, and Jared heard the scissors snip. A few seconds later, Mike cleared his throat and said, sounding strangely off, "Oh-oh, damn."
Jared's stomach sank. "Shit, what?"
Mike let out a nervous laugh. "No biggie, man. Just cut a little too much off."
"A little too much? Tell me you didn't-"
"It's okay, dude! Bald spots really work for some people, you know?"
Jared was out of his seat so fast that he knocked the chair over. He ran to the bathroom, desperately feeling the back of his head for the dreaded hairless patch, and spent a good thirty seconds trying to twist himself around in the mirror enough to see the back of his head. It was only when he heard the muffled laughter that he realised there was a reason that his fingers couldn't find it. Humiliated and furious, Jared stomped back into the living room. Chad's head was in his hands, and he was shaking he was laughing so hard. Sophia was patting his back and shooting sympathetic glances in Jared's direction, but her lips were twitching. Mike was half-collapsed in the (now upright again) chair, breathless and grinning.
Tom patted Jared gently on the shoulder. "Welcome to my world," he said grimly.
"Dude, you love it," Chad said at once, looking up.
Jared just glowered.
Mike wiped a tear from his eye and beckoned. "Lighten up, boy. Now come on back and I promise, no more jokes. I'll give you a real good cut."
Jared wouldn't have gone if Tom hadn't pushed him in Mike's direction, not releasing his hold on Jared's shoulders until he was moving in the right direction.
Mike didn't look even remotely apologetic as Jared plunked himself back down in the chair. He was still sniggering a little as he covered Jared in the towel and began to cut again. This time around, he didn't say anything, just silently circled Jared, snipping here and there. The silence was almost worse; Jared was afraid Mike had actually given him a huge bald spot on his head and, after his little joke, was too embarrassed to say anything. Tom and Chad were too busy examining a suit that Sophia was holding up to pay attention.
It seemed like an eternity later that the scissors stopped moving and Mike whipped the towel off of him with a flourish. Grinning, he leaned down and ran his hands through Jared's hair, tugging it into finger-wrecked perfection. "All done," he announced, pulling back and stepping aside so Tom, Chad, and Sophia could admire his handiwork.
Jared waited for the horror to appear on their faces, but they just smiled and nodded. Sophia even gave him a thumbs-up.
"Looks good," Tom said, glancing at Mike, who beamed and puffed out his chest at the compliment. "You're better than I give you credit for."
Chad bypassed Jared's new look completely and just said, "Get your ass over here. Want to see how this suit's gonna look."
Jared paid him no mind, instead heading for the bathroom to check if his hair really looked as good as they said it did, or if they were lying through their teeth. He stopped in front of the mirror, steeled himself, and met his reflection's eyes. The sight surprised him.
It did look good. Mike apparently knew what he was doing. It wasn't that much shorter-still quite long, curling in waves about his face-but it looked… styled. Artfully tousled, even. Shaped to his head. He flicked lazily at his fringe, smiled into the mirror, and marched back into the living room. The next step involved Tom's suit, and even though Jared had to admit it was a nice suit, black and fitted and pressed clean, the inch of difference between Jared and Tom suddenly seemed huge. A glimpse of his socks was visible between the bottoms of his trousers and his shiny black shoes, and the sleeves were stupidly short. Jared frowned; it was easy to imagine how silly he looked, and Sophia's crestfallen expression only confirmed it.
Chad's eyes narrowed and before Jared could stop him, he walked over and unceremoniously tugged Jared's trousers southward. Yelping, Jared jumped away from his touch and refused to let him get within reach until Chad let out an annoyed exhale and said, "Pull your pants down, moron! You've got a jacket, nobody'll notice if they're hanging a little low. Anything to cover those stupid socks."
Jared stuck a foot out in front of him. "Hey," he protested feebly, "I like these socks. Megan gave me these socks."
Chad ignored him and Jared stubbornly reached to hike up his pants to a decent place, only to be stopped by Tom's hand closing around his wrist. Bewildered, Jared looked at him. "Dude, if you really wanted to see me without my pants on, all you needed to do was ask," he said pointedly, trying to shake free of Tom's hold.
Tom went a dull red but said, voice steady, "No, I think Chad's right. And-we'll have to do something about the sleeves, too."
Mike had a solution to that. "Roll them up," he urged, miming it on his own arms. "You're going to a bar, not to a damn executive meeting. There's no need to look like a tightass. Just… professional."
Jared rolled his eyes but did as told, then pulled his pants a little further down at Tom's insistence. At the end of it, he felt a little idiotic, with his expensive trousers slung low on his hips and the silky black sleeves of his suit jacket rolled up to the elbow. Self-conscious, he ran a hand through his hair and squared his shoulders. "Well?" he said, taking a quick look down at himself. "Do I look as silly as I feel?"
Sophia grinned and swatted his shoulder. "Honey, you clean up real nice," she told him primly, and to his surprise, Tom and Mike echoed her statement with some serious nodding; even Chad grudgingly mumbled something about Jared's fashion sense that didn't sound too offensive.
Jared felt his face splitting in a grin. "Okay, then," he said. "I'm ready to go!"
As it turned out, he wasn't ready. At all. Not even a little. As soon as they left the apartment, Jared began to rack his brains, trying to guess the kind of place they were headed. He imagined a shady, squat building made out of red, chipping brick, complete with a neon sign where only half the letters were alight: a bar filled with aged patrons sleepily watching a football game on cracked screens.
Satine was anything but.
He'd been wrong in thinking it was a bar in the first place; the fact that it was the very gay club Chad had mentioned once or twice in his phone calls had somehow not been mentioned.
But it was unlike any gay club Jared had ever been to (not that he'd been to that many, living in San Antonio and right down the road from his parents). It stretched sky-high, throwing everything around it into shadow: a ritzy former dance hall decked in red satin and blinking lights that had been shut down in the fifties, Tom informed him, before Jeff Morgan had reopened it about ten years ago.
It was almost ridiculously fancy. As if the building itself wasn't enough, the multicoloured lights shining out of the club's windows highlighted a tall, wrought iron fence bracketing the premises and the bouncers stationed at all times outside the gate. As Jared watched Tom and Mike casually greet them, IDs at the ready, he thought that they were less bouncers and more plain old guards. Built like brick shithouses, black suits straining over their muscled chests, topped off with flat, mean faces and beady, unblinking eyes. "Don't get on their bad side" went without saying.
Jared stuck to Chad like glue, gave the guards a tiny smile as he passed, flashing his own ID, and didn't breathe until he was well inside the fence and standing outside the door. Which was less of a door and more of a cavernous hole in the wall made out of glass and yet more red satin. It was easy to see where the place got its name.
Jared felt stupid with nervousness as Chad took him by the elbow and all but walked him inside. No sooner had the door shut behind them than Jared was overwhelmed by sheer sensation; sounds from all around pulsed in his ears, a terrible cacophony of screaming and shouting and above that a pounding rhythm booming from the speakers; his eyes crossed with the effort of taking it in and he craned his neck to see it all, mouth agape. He'd never thought he'd had a particularly sheltered childhood, but this-this-rendered him speechless, swept away in the excitement of it, like he was lost at sea without a prayer.
Mike laughed at his wonderment and slapped him on the back. "You'll get used to it!" he shouted over the music.
Doubting that, Jared shook his head helplessly. "What's the plan?" he hissed in Chad's ear.
"I'll explain-hold on-" Chad grabbed Jared's arm and unceremoniously began to tug him through the throng of people. Jared felt something pulling on the back of his suit jacket that he could only assume was Mike or Tom trying to keep up. He allowed himself to be pulled to a quieter corner, away from the speakers and most of the crowd, and into a narrow booth. Chad slid in beside him, knocking a plaque that read Reserved onto the floor as Tom and Mike took the seats opposite.
"Okay," Chad said, letting out a long exhale. He turned an exasperated look on Tom and Mike. "Dude, this place is so crazy."
"Should've seen it at New Year's," Mike said, almost wistfully. "Makes tonight seem lame. Anyway!" he added, slamming an open palm on the table and taking a discreet glance around. "Look, Jared, this is almost impossible to fuck up-some people are going to come out and dance, then after the show you'll head up to Jenny's room and make yourself look awesome. Easy as pie."
Jared swallowed hard, more nervous than he was willing to admit. "Where's Jenny now?"
Tom peered into the crowd. "Jen-likes to keep to-" he told Jared, half of his sentence lost in the start of a new song. "Should be around here with Mr. Morgan somewhere-there." He extended a pointing finger towards a stage-like structure in the centre of the room. It was swamped with people-they stood near it, on it, at tables around it. It should've been easy to pick out the petite figure of a girl in the sea of men, but no matter how Jared twisted and squinted into the crowd, he couldn't see anyone that looked very likely to be female.
"Is she Mr. Morgan's daughter or something?" he called over the music, still trying to spot her.
"Who?" Mike blinked at him, apparently bewildered.
"Jenny!"
"What?"
Jared shook his head and made a forget it gesture, then turned back to the throng. There were no girls in sight, but-but. Jared's breath caught in his throat and he leaned up, out of his seat, for a better view of a man standing at the edge of the stage. He was half turned away from Jared, standing close to a grizzled older guy; in the fluorescent light shining down from above, Jared got a clear picture of a sculpted profile, pale skin awash with freckles. The black suit the man was wearing was a little like the one Jared had on, except it fit him almost too well. It clung to every curve of his body, all broad shoulders down to narrow hips and long legs.
And then he turned and Jared's heart skipped a beat, because the guy was definitely looking straight at him. Jared swallowed hard and sunk into his seat. Even from this distance, it was easy to see that the guy was gorgeous. Jared took a deep breath to steady himself and met the mysterious man's eyes-two glints of green under heavy lashes that Jared could see from where he sat-and felt stupidly bereft when the guy looked away again.
"Who-" Jared said, a little breathlessly, turning back to Chad, Tom, and Mike, all thoughts of Jenny swept from his mind. "That guy, over there-in the suit-"
Chad gave him a withering look. "That's-" he began, but the rest of his sentence was lost in a sudden round of cheering. The show was starting.
"What?"
"I said-" but it was gone again, vanishing in the din.
"What?"
"Jen!" Chad bellowed in his ear.
"That's Jen?" Jared repeated in disbelief, because okay, totally not a girl. Not a girl at all.
"Jensen!" Chad said irritably.
Oh. Oh. Jared sat there for a moment, mouth opening and closing silently like a fish, before turning back and craning his neck for another glimpse of the guy-Jen, Jenny, Jensen. He was nowhere to be seen, but the older man he'd been standing with was climbing the stage as if about to make a speech.
Jared slunk down in his seat, pressing himself against the sticky, laminated cushion. So, yeah. Not ready in the slightest.
part two