A Lie of the Heart - Part 1
Masterpost
Jensen Ackles was bored. Scratch that, he was so far beyond bored, he was approaching comatose. His supervisor was droning on about the dinner they would be holding at the end of the week and all Jensen wanted to do was go on his lunch break. He had another building site mock-up to finish before the end of the day. Instead, he was stuck here, listening to the same speech he'd heard countless times before.
Working at Kripke and Associates was the best job he could have hoped for after finishing grad school. Four years later, he was the senior planner for the top planning and design firm in the tri-county area. He worked hard to put his Urban Planning degree to good use. Jensen was skilled at being able to create a mock-up of what a client wanted and whether it would be feasible for the type of land they wanted to build it on. He could crunch numbers and data, trying to find the least costly way for a contractor to make their plans see daylight.
It could be tedious, but Jensen relished in the opportunity to dig into a new project and see what kind of planning and zoning issues might crop up. Of course, Jensen only really enjoyed the simulation part of his projects. He hated working on the minutiae of which scale to use, which color scheme, or even which font, of all things. Jensen would rather leave that to some lowly intern than waste his time trying to decide between serif and sans serif fonts. Who the hell even cared about that shit?
Jensen resisted the urge to start tapping his pen on the conference table and tried to school his face into something resembling rapt attention. He probably failed.
“As this is a very important fundraiser, I encourage all of you to attend. Don’t be shy about bringing a date with you, either. The idea is to have a good time while letting the attendees know how much we appreciate their support. Dress is semi-formal, so wear a tie with your suit jackets, gentlemen. Ladies, I know you’ll make sure your dresses will be the appropriate style for the evening. Any questions? If not, this meeting is adjourned and you can all go to lunch. Be back by 1 o’clock, please?”
The sound of shuffling chairs and excited chit-chat jolted Jensen out of his reverie. He’d been only half paying attention while Michelle explained about the upcoming fundraiser. Caught between panicking over whether he should bring a date or not and wondering how awful it would look if he didn’t show up, Jensen didn’t notice his boss approach.
“Jensen! How’s the Campbell project going?” Michelle quizzed him.
Michelle Kawa was just a few years older than Jensen. She'd recently been promoted as of the department, making her Jensen’s supervisor. She was about a foot shorter than him, but feisty as hell. Bright and clever, she was able to churn out projects for clients at the drop of a hat.
“It’s going well.” Jensen smiled at her. “I think they’ll be ready to close the deal by next Wednesday at the earliest. I believe Mr. Campbell will want the weekend to look over the figures before he jumps on board completely. But I’m certain he’ll sign the papers.”
Michelle's face lit up as she heaped praise on him. “That’s great to hear! You’re doing a fantastic job with this project. I just want you to know that I wouldn’t let just anyone handle it; I picked you specifically for this very reason. I’m glad to hear it’s going so well.”
“Thanks.” Jensen felt the tips of his ears warm. Hearing such things about his work always made him feel embarrassed, even when he deserved the acknowledgments.
“So about the fundraiser this Friday night. I’m going to need you to help me greet the guests from other companies and our clients; make them feel welcome. I’ll excuse you from giving the speech before dinner since you took care of the last one, but I’d appreciate it if you led the toast to our top contributors.”
As she talked about Friday, Jensen followed Michelle from the conference room down the hall to her office. He nodded along as she told him about the courses they’d be eating, the expected flow of events, and other little things he should anticipate. Upon reaching the door to her office, Michelle turned to face Jensen.
“So, who will you be bringing as your ‘plus one’?” she teased.
This was familiar territory between them. Michelle needling him over his (lack of a) social life as Jensen deftly tried to hedge his bets. “Oh, I don’t know. I might see if Mack wants to come with me this time.”
Jensen’s sister had accompanied him to the first fundraiser he’d attended and had relished in the chance to dress up. Since then, Jensen had either gone alone or brought Mackenzie along.
Only once had brought the guy he had been dating at the time. That had been a disaster.
Rob had come late, way past the point of being “fashionable,” sporting ripped jeans and some Abercrombie and Fitch knock-off shirt. He exuded what Jensen could only call “eau du body grease” with his lanky hair and craggy, shag-ass stubble patchily growing on his face. While Jensen didn't necessarily mind the ironic hipster look when they were out with friends at the bar, he had been livid when Rob hadn’t seen the problem with his attire. Jensen had patiently (maybe with a hint of “what the hell is wrong with you” lacing his voice, but whatever the guy was a tool) tried to tell him how important the strictly formal dinner party was. Rob had scoffed, saying that Jensen was being too uptight and that he needed to just “let loose”.
“Rob, you’re right. I do need to let loose,” Jensen had gritted out. Before Rob could bask in his seeming victory, Jensen continued, “And I’m going to start by cutting your hipster ass loose. We’re done. Smell you later, jackass.”
Rob later left a nasty message on Jensen’s voicemail, which included casting aspersions on his maternal and paternal lineage.
Until Jensen started choosing guys less for their “coolness” and more for their ability to hold a conversation that didn't reference how they'd totally known about Arcade Fire way before anyone else, and had the bootleg tracks to prove it. After that incident, Jensen had decided not to bring actual dates to these events.
Or as Mackenzie aptly stated, “Stop thinking with your 'I wanna be a cool kid, but I'm such a nerd' dick.” It'd sting more if she wasn't so freakishly right about it.
Michelle snapped her fingers to get Jensen’s attention. Internally groaning at being caught zoning out, Jensen spurted out an apology.
“Sorry, just trying to figure out which suit to wear on Friday.” The lie was so freaking obvious and he knew that Michelle saw right through it as his sister's voice wow you are so cool rattled around his head.
“Uh-huh.” Michelle laughed. “Don't even think about trying to get out of attending. You’d better be there. And with bells on. And bring an actual date this time, if you can. You know I love your sister, but there are only so many times you can awkwardly introduce her as your sister, not your girlfriend.” She gently teased.
Jensen long ago accepted Michelle's good-natured meddling. She was his supervisor, for one. He wasn't that socially inept not to smile and nod when your boss gave you advice, no matter how unwanted. But mostly because she was a good friend. She actually seemed to care if Jensen got laid.
Which, okay, might be a little creepy and all, but seriously, it'd been a while. Jensen really wanted to get laid.
Glancing at her watch, Michelle made shooing motions when she saw what time it was, “Go get something to eat. I don’t want to see you back in your office for at least an hour.”
“Yes, mother!” Jensen grinned and started back down the hall to get his coat from his own office.
“Don’t call me that! You know it freaks me out.”
Jensen laughed at her indignant cry as he left the office building for lunch.
The lunch crowd was packing Steph's Subs to the gills by the time Jensen walked in. Squeezing his way through college kids, he snagged one of the stools at the counter. Jensen’s friend, Mike, sauntered over to take his order. Jensen wondered if anything short of his ass literally being on fire would speed Mike up.
“What can I get ya, man? The chicken salad is pretty rad today. I made it myself!” Mike grinned at him.
“I don’t know, Mike. The last time I ate your tuna salad, I was sick for days. How can I trust that your chicken salad won’t do the same?” Jensen teased, knowing full well that it would get the other man going. Mike huffed and shoved at Jensen’s shoulder.
“Shut up. I told you that wasn’t my fault. Jake left it out over night and didn’t tell anyone. How was I supposed to know?”
“Ace defense there, dude. Fine, go make me a foot-long chicken salad sub, then. And hold the salmonella, asswipe.”
Jensen just laughed at Mike’s indignation.
“Oh, you'll get some swimmers in there, but they won't be salmon.”
“That's seriously disgusting, Mike.”
Mike grinned and sauntered back to the kitchen.
While waiting for his order, Jensen called his sister. The phone rang twice before she picked up.
“Hey, Jensen. What’s up?” She sounded a little out of breath when she answered.
“Hey, Mack. How are ya? You’re not busy, are you?” he asked.
“I’m doing alright. I’m actually on my way to class right now, but I’ve got a few minutes to spare for my favorite brother.” She laughed. He could hear chatter in the background; she was probably crossing the quad right then.
“Well, I was wondering if you have any plans this Friday night? We’re having one of those fancy-schmancy fundraiser dinners for work and I thought you’d like to go with me again.” She had seemed really eager the last time; Jensen really hoped she would be this time, too.
“Oh, Jen. I would love to go! But I have plans with Eric that night. I can cancel them if you really need me to though--” She trailed off, sounding sincere in her offer but also a lot like she was hoping he wouldn’t take her up on it.
“No, Mack. I don’t want you to break your plans with your boyfriend for a stupid party,” Jensen sighed. This was going to be a pain in the ass, he could tell already. “I’ll figure something out, so don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal.”
“Are you sure? I know how important these things are to you and I can be there if you need me. Don’t try and play this off for my sake.” She tried to assure him.
Mike placed his sub in front of him. He warily eyed it, peeking under the top slice to see if Mike had actually fucked with it or not. Mike grinned like a loon and gave him a “would I fuck with you?” look that Jensen didn't trust. At all.
“Jensen?” Mack's voice came down the line.
“No, really. It’s fine. Actually, I have to go.” Jensen smooshed the sub down, praying that there wasn't salmonella, or anything else for God's sake, in the sandwich. “My lunch is ready and I’m sure you’ve reached your class by now.”
Still grinning madly, Mike grabbed the proffered money from Jensen and slid his change across the counter. It was covered in mayonnaise. “Why are you such a jerk?” Jensen mouthed. Mike laughed, sliding down the counter to the next customer.
“Yeah, I have. But seriously, Jensen. Call me if you need me. I won’t leave you, or your nerd dick hanging, you know that. Take care of yourself. And call Mom! She said she hasn’t heard from you in weeks. Don’t make me be the one to fill her in on your life. She won’t like the stories I’ll come up with.”
“Alright, I will. I’ll call her later and let her know I’m still alive and kicking. Have a good time on Friday and tell Eric I said ‘Hi’, okay?” Jensen finished the call with his sister. He ran a hand over his face. Looks like he was showing up alone, once again.
He knew Mike wouldn’t go with him; he said they were too stuffy for him and the people there were too self-important. Which was true enough. Most of their clients and investors were pretty stuck on themselves; which was why Jensen was hoping his sister would be free to go with him.
Sighing, Jensen pushed the issue from his mind for the moment so that he could enjoy his sub and concentrate on his next project proposal for work. He didn’t have long to think about it before Mike was back in his line of sight.
“Why the long face, Jen? You know I didn't actually contaminate the chicken salad.”
Jensen shook his head and swallowed the mouthful of tasty sub.
“Yeah, no, Mike, it's great. I just have some stuff I’m trying to figure out.” Jensen tried to play it off.
Of course, Mike wasn’t buying it.
“Come on, man. Don’t try and fake it with me. How long have we known each other?”
“Since you scrubbed the puke from my bed.” Jensen laughed.
“Exactly. We've been, like, in the shit, man. So, c'mon, what’s got your pretty little eyebrows all scrunched up like that?” Mike wheedled.
Jensen flopped the sandwich down, rubbing the mayonnaise off his hands with a napkin.
“Fine. We have another fundraiser dinner this Friday and I don’t have anyone to bring with me. My sister is busy and I’ve barely had time to myself the last, shit, I don't even know, much less to spend on dates with probable losers. My boss made it pretty clear that I’m supposed to bring a date with me. I can’t really do that if I haven’t dated anyone in months, though. So I don’t really know what I should do.” Jensen knew he was rambling, but he was pissed off at how much time work stole from his life, and it all just sort of tumbled out.
“Shit, is that all? Here I thought it was serious.” Mike laughed.
“It’s not like I can just pick someone up off the street and ask if they want to go schmooze with a bunch of investors for a few hours. This isn’t some romantic comedy where I can hire some hooker who happens to have an amazing personality and is really just down on his luck. I think Michelle would be pretty disappointed if I showed up with some rent-boy instead of just going alone.” Jensen finished the rest of his sub and moved to leave. Mike waved him back over before he got too far.
“Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to laugh like that. It’s kind of funny, if you think about it. But seriously though, I think I have a solution for you. Come on over to my place tonight and I’ll tell you my brilliant idea over wings and beers. Saying ‘no’ is not an option here.”
Mike seemed genuine about helping Jensen out. They'd probably just end up re-watching Saturday’s college baseball game while downing a bucket of wings and a case of Keystone Light while Mike pontificated on some dumb-ass plan involving Craig's List and eBay.
At least Jensen would have company, though. Misery loved that.
Jensen got to Mike's place sometime after seven. He wished it had been because he'd gotten stuck in traffic. That would have been preferable to having to re-do the freaking font, of all things, on his latest project. The client wanted Calibri, not Arial. “Fine, not a problem!” Jensen had agreed. Except it was. A huge pain in his ass problem since each word had to be changed. Maybe he could design a program that did a global search and replace in images. He'd be fucking rich. And maybe monkeys would fly out of his ass.
Mike took one look at him, and promptly took the six-pack from under Jensen’s arm. The television was on and showing the pre-game revelry from Redman Stadium. Jensen tossed his suit jacket on the armchair arm and loosened his tie.
“I just ordered the food. It should be here in half an hour, tops.” Mike said as they settled down on the couch.
Jensen snapped two of the cans from the beer ring, handing one over to Mike. They cracked open their beers and took long pulls from the icy, if vaguely disgusting, brew. There were better beers out there, but somehow the two of them never got around to drinking anything but Keystone. They were classy that way.
Two beers later, Jensen took the plunge. “So what’s this ‘genius plan’ of yours, man?”
Mike's face broke out into a mischievous grin. “So you know how you said you need someone to take with you to this party or whatever on Friday? What if you could just hire someone off the street?”
“I was kidding. Jesus, you can’t do shit like that in real life, at least not around here. Hiring some prostitute to go as my date could land my ass on the street. Seriously, Mike, come on. Just suck it up and go with me for once. Delicious, catered food and it’s free. What more could you ask for?”
As Jensen spoke, Mike’s grin got wider and, if it was possible, more mischievous. Jensen didn’t like the look of it. That smile always promised trouble. Like the puking in his bed incident.
“No, I’m not going, fuck you very much. I’m not talking about some sleazy prostitute, dude” At Jensen's incredulous face, Mike shot back. “I'm serious! I know someone who can find you a date --a legitimate, perfectly legal date-- for Friday and it’ll only cost you as much as you’d normally spend on a few dinner dates.”
“No, no, no, no, no. No fucking way, Mike.”
“Don’t discount this out of hand! Let your dick think it over a bit.”
Jensen shook his head.
“You’re crazy. First, it's not my dick that needs to be thinking about this shit. It's got a pretty bad track record, and I'm not looking for an easy fuck. Second, what the hell is this ‘I know a guy who knows a guy’ shit? It sounds like something out of a mob movie.” Jensen snorted derisively.
“Jensen, I’m not joking. My buddy from college, Chad, runs this escort service for people who need a little arm candy or you know,” Mike waved his hand around in the general vicinity of Jensen's crotch, “for social situations. It’s discreet, totally above board, and pretty cheap. I’ll give you his number and you can call and ask him about it yourself. And if the date you get sucks, you never have to hear from him again. It’s a win-win, really.” He sounded like an infomercial, the way he sang this “Chad” guy’s business’s praises.
Jensen was about to respond when the doorbell rang signaling the arrival of their food. Their beers had long since been abandoned on the coffee table, rings of condensation gathering around the bases. He sighed and actually decided to give Mike’s suggestion some thought. Maybe he was a little desperate. Okay, fine, a lot desperate. His life, kinda, sorta, maybe sucked right now. Really, it was no different from a blind date, he supposed. A blind date that he was paying to have, anyway. Jensen grabbed up his beer and took a drink, cringing at how lukewarm it had become. Nothing like lukewarm swill to celebrate the choice of hiring an escort.
Yeah, his life totally sucked right now.
"Alright, I've got hot wings and pepperoni pizza. We can start the game now. Crack open another beer for me, would ya?" Mike asked, setting the food on the coffee table. He then went back into the kitchen for paper towels and plates. Jensen grabbed two more beers from the blessedly fridge-cold six-pack and sat back down on the couch.
"Thanks, man. This smells great." Jensen said as he grabbed a slice of cheesy goodness from the box.
They watched the game as they ate, yelling at the pre-recorded plays through mouthfuls of pizza and hot wings. By the time the fourth quarter ended, Mike and Jensen had polished off the pizza, most of the wings and were working on finishing off the rest of Mike's left-over beer.
"Okay, so I'm not promising anything, but maybe I might, I dunno, give this Chad guy a call and find out a little more. I'm trusting you enough that this isn't some shady hooker business."
Mike's triumphant smile made really, really hope Mike wasn’t pulling one over on him. Again.
"Great! Lemme get his number and you can give him a buzz tomorrow or something. Just let him know if you want a guy or a girl and just how formal the party will be, and whatever else he needs to know. These are complete professionals, I'm telling you. They do their homework and everything before they show up so they don’t make their clients look bad.”
Mike scrolled through his cell phone until he found Chad’s number and then he texted it to Jensen.
The next day at work, Jensen had tried, and mostly failed, to muster the cajones to call Chad. His thumb had hovered over the ‘Send’ button for the better part of the morning. Staring at it like it was a Magic 8 Ball and the answer would just magically appear, the phone beeped with a text message.
Of course it was Mike asking if he had found his balls and called yet. Fucker. He typed back yeah, jerkface. Was gonna do it on my lunch break. Mike shot back stop being such a panty waist and do it already. Nothing like words of encouragement and grace from a friend to call a damned pimp.
Jensen breathed deep, and with his eyes firmly shut, hit 'Send'.
The gruff voice that answered the phone was not what he was expecting. He didn’t really know what he had expected, to be honest. He thought maybe he should just hang up.
“Hello? Look, I can hear you breathing. Either speak or I’m hanging up. I don’t have time for crank calls.” The guy sounded irritated and ready to hang up himself.
“Sorry. Hi. Uh, this is Chad, right?” Jensen spurted out.
“Who wants to know?” the man asked. Jensen hoped it was Chad or he was about to sound like an idiot. Story of his freaking life.
“My name is Jensen and my friend Mike gave me your number. He said you could help me with a problem I’m having.”
“Depends on the problem. I don’t deal, if that’s what you’re looking for.” Chad told him warily.
“What? No. I need a date for a party and my friend said you’re the guy to call.” Jensen mentally crossed his fingers that this wasn't another one of Mike’s pranks.
“Yeah, this is Chad. I take it you mean Rosey gave you my number, right? Alright, what exactly are you looking for?” Chad asked after a long pause.
“Well, I need someone to go with me to a formal fundraiser dinner this Friday. The event is sponsored by my company and I kind of wanted someone to go with.” Jensen suddenly felt incredibly stupid and more than slightly embarrassed at having to call someone to get him a date. Then he reminded himself of how well the whole Rob thing had turned out, and sucked it up.
“Okay, I think I can find someone for you. Give me the details: time, location, gender preference, how ritzy is this thing going to be, what kind of job you have so my employee knows the type of conversation to expect. Oh, and we require a partial payment at least two-days in advance in the event you cancel at the last minute. My kids are busy and time is money, got it?” Chad was all business now. He asked his questions and the rapid-fire way he asked left Jensen almost dizzy.
“It’s Friday night, six o’clock, at the Caldwell Conservatory. But I’d prefer to meet at work to avoid questions from anyone and get a chance to go over a few things beforehand. Uh, I guess a guy would be fine but I’m not picky. It’s semi-formal, so a suit jacket and a tie are mandatory, at the least. I work for the planning and design firm Kripke and Associates. Most guests end up talking amongst themselves once dinner is underway, so my date would really be there for me to talk to, if anything.” As Jensen rattled off the details, he started to relax a little bit. He heard what sounded like pen scratching on paper from the other end; Chad was writing down the pertinent points.
“Okay, got it. How about I give you a call back later this afternoon and we can set up your payment. I’ll let you know who will be escorting you and if you have any questions or concerns, you can ask me then. Sound good? Oh, and what’s your last name? Standard client background check. If you’re a sleaze ball, I don’t want my kids anywhere near you, got it?” Chad asked him, a hard edge creeping into his tone.
“Yeah, sure. I understand completely. My name’s Jensen Ackles. Uh... this is definitely discreet though?”
“Totally. We understand that not everyone wants to broadcast that they’re hiring someone to be their date. That shit’s private and we understand that. I’ll call you later with the details. Have a nice day!”
Jensen thought it was seriously weird that a pimp would chirp out Have a nice day! but it wasn't like he had a lot of experience to compare it to. And now he did. This was definitely getting edited out of phone call to his mom later.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of client meetings and draft revisions. Jensen was just finishing up a memo reminding everyone to ask their clients what font type they preferred. He was seriously not going to deal with that shit again. His cell phone started ringing, sending Jensen scrambling to find the thing under the stacks of paperwork littering his desk.
Jensen saw Chad on the caller id. He was perversely proud his voice didn't tremble too much when he answered.
“Hey! I’ve got some good news. I’ve found someone for your Friday thing and I think he’ll be a good match for your needs. His name is Jared and I hope you don’t mind that he’s really tall. We're talking Yeti-tall, here. But, yeah, nice kid and a good conversationalist, if you need him to be.”
“Wow, uh, great. That’s great. I was a little worried that it would be too short notice to get anyone. I don’t mind tall guys; I’m pretty tall myself,” Jensen replied.
“Great. Now about the payment. For this type of event, it’s a flat rate of $250 since it’s pretty formal and he’ll need to dress up a little more than he would usually. I need a deposit of half of that by the close of business tomorrow or I’ll cancel your appointment with Jared. You can pay cash or by credit card. So we can either do a card payment over the phone or you can use our PayPal site. It’ll show up as a non-descriptive charge on your account, if you’re concerned. The other half of the payment will be due by Saturday night or you can pay Jared directly after the event ends.” He told Jensen, the details making this seem more real then Jensen thought he could handle at the moment. Oh God, Jensen was really going to go through with this.
“We can do the first payment over the phone. You take MasterCard, right?”
This was far from the worst decision he’d ever made.
Part Two
Jensen Ackles was bored. Scratch that, he was so far beyond bored, he was approaching comatose. His supervisor was droning on about the dinner they would be holding at the end of the week and all Jensen wanted to do was go on his lunch break. He had another building site mock-up to finish before the end of the day. Instead, he was stuck here, listening to the same speech he'd heard countless times before.
Working at Kripke and Associates was the best job he could have hoped for after finishing grad school. Four years later, he was the senior planner for the top planning and design firm in the tri-county area. He worked hard to put his Urban Planning degree to good use. Jensen was skilled at being able to create a mock-up of what a client wanted and whether it would be feasible for the type of land they wanted to build it on. He could crunch numbers and data, trying to find the least costly way for a contractor to make their plans see daylight.
It could be tedious, but Jensen relished in the opportunity to dig into a new project and see what kind of planning and zoning issues might crop up. Of course, Jensen only really enjoyed the simulation part of his projects. He hated working on the minutiae of which scale to use, which color scheme, or even which font, of all things. Jensen would rather leave that to some lowly intern than waste his time trying to decide between serif and sans serif fonts. Who the hell even cared about that shit?
Jensen resisted the urge to start tapping his pen on the conference table and tried to school his face into something resembling rapt attention. He probably failed.
“As this is a very important fundraiser, I encourage all of you to attend. Don’t be shy about bringing a date with you, either. The idea is to have a good time while letting the attendees know how much we appreciate their support. Dress is semi-formal, so wear a tie with your suit jackets, gentlemen. Ladies, I know you’ll make sure your dresses will be the appropriate style for the evening. Any questions? If not, this meeting is adjourned and you can all go to lunch. Be back by 1 o’clock, please?”
The sound of shuffling chairs and excited chit-chat jolted Jensen out of his reverie. He’d been only half paying attention while Michelle explained about the upcoming fundraiser. Caught between panicking over whether he should bring a date or not and wondering how awful it would look if he didn’t show up, Jensen didn’t notice his boss approach.
“Jensen! How’s the Campbell project going?” Michelle quizzed him.
Michelle Kawa was just a few years older than Jensen. She'd recently been promoted as of the department, making her Jensen’s supervisor. She was about a foot shorter than him, but feisty as hell. Bright and clever, she was able to churn out projects for clients at the drop of a hat.
“It’s going well.” Jensen smiled at her. “I think they’ll be ready to close the deal by next Wednesday at the earliest. I believe Mr. Campbell will want the weekend to look over the figures before he jumps on board completely. But I’m certain he’ll sign the papers.”
Michelle's face lit up as she heaped praise on him. “That’s great to hear! You’re doing a fantastic job with this project. I just want you to know that I wouldn’t let just anyone handle it; I picked you specifically for this very reason. I’m glad to hear it’s going so well.”
“Thanks.” Jensen felt the tips of his ears warm. Hearing such things about his work always made him feel embarrassed, even when he deserved the acknowledgments.
“So about the fundraiser this Friday night. I’m going to need you to help me greet the guests from other companies and our clients; make them feel welcome. I’ll excuse you from giving the speech before dinner since you took care of the last one, but I’d appreciate it if you led the toast to our top contributors.”
As she talked about Friday, Jensen followed Michelle from the conference room down the hall to her office. He nodded along as she told him about the courses they’d be eating, the expected flow of events, and other little things he should anticipate. Upon reaching the door to her office, Michelle turned to face Jensen.
“So, who will you be bringing as your ‘plus one’?” she teased.
This was familiar territory between them. Michelle needling him over his (lack of a) social life as Jensen deftly tried to hedge his bets. “Oh, I don’t know. I might see if Mack wants to come with me this time.”
Jensen’s sister had accompanied him to the first fundraiser he’d attended and had relished in the chance to dress up. Since then, Jensen had either gone alone or brought Mackenzie along.
Only once had brought the guy he had been dating at the time. That had been a disaster.
Rob had come late, way past the point of being “fashionable,” sporting ripped jeans and some Abercrombie and Fitch knock-off shirt. He exuded what Jensen could only call “eau du body grease” with his lanky hair and craggy, shag-ass stubble patchily growing on his face. While Jensen didn't necessarily mind the ironic hipster look when they were out with friends at the bar, he had been livid when Rob hadn’t seen the problem with his attire. Jensen had patiently (maybe with a hint of “what the hell is wrong with you” lacing his voice, but whatever the guy was a tool) tried to tell him how important the strictly formal dinner party was. Rob had scoffed, saying that Jensen was being too uptight and that he needed to just “let loose”.
“Rob, you’re right. I do need to let loose,” Jensen had gritted out. Before Rob could bask in his seeming victory, Jensen continued, “And I’m going to start by cutting your hipster ass loose. We’re done. Smell you later, jackass.”
Rob later left a nasty message on Jensen’s voicemail, which included casting aspersions on his maternal and paternal lineage.
Until Jensen started choosing guys less for their “coolness” and more for their ability to hold a conversation that didn't reference how they'd totally known about Arcade Fire way before anyone else, and had the bootleg tracks to prove it. After that incident, Jensen had decided not to bring actual dates to these events.
Or as Mackenzie aptly stated, “Stop thinking with your 'I wanna be a cool kid, but I'm such a nerd' dick.” It'd sting more if she wasn't so freakishly right about it.
Michelle snapped her fingers to get Jensen’s attention. Internally groaning at being caught zoning out, Jensen spurted out an apology.
“Sorry, just trying to figure out which suit to wear on Friday.” The lie was so freaking obvious and he knew that Michelle saw right through it as his sister's voice wow you are so cool rattled around his head.
“Uh-huh.” Michelle laughed. “Don't even think about trying to get out of attending. You’d better be there. And with bells on. And bring an actual date this time, if you can. You know I love your sister, but there are only so many times you can awkwardly introduce her as your sister, not your girlfriend.” She gently teased.
Jensen long ago accepted Michelle's good-natured meddling. She was his supervisor, for one. He wasn't that socially inept not to smile and nod when your boss gave you advice, no matter how unwanted. But mostly because she was a good friend. She actually seemed to care if Jensen got laid.
Which, okay, might be a little creepy and all, but seriously, it'd been a while. Jensen really wanted to get laid.
Glancing at her watch, Michelle made shooing motions when she saw what time it was, “Go get something to eat. I don’t want to see you back in your office for at least an hour.”
“Yes, mother!” Jensen grinned and started back down the hall to get his coat from his own office.
“Don’t call me that! You know it freaks me out.”
Jensen laughed at her indignant cry as he left the office building for lunch.
The lunch crowd was packing Steph's Subs to the gills by the time Jensen walked in. Squeezing his way through college kids, he snagged one of the stools at the counter. Jensen’s friend, Mike, sauntered over to take his order. Jensen wondered if anything short of his ass literally being on fire would speed Mike up.
“What can I get ya, man? The chicken salad is pretty rad today. I made it myself!” Mike grinned at him.
“I don’t know, Mike. The last time I ate your tuna salad, I was sick for days. How can I trust that your chicken salad won’t do the same?” Jensen teased, knowing full well that it would get the other man going. Mike huffed and shoved at Jensen’s shoulder.
“Shut up. I told you that wasn’t my fault. Jake left it out over night and didn’t tell anyone. How was I supposed to know?”
“Ace defense there, dude. Fine, go make me a foot-long chicken salad sub, then. And hold the salmonella, asswipe.”
Jensen just laughed at Mike’s indignation.
“Oh, you'll get some swimmers in there, but they won't be salmon.”
“That's seriously disgusting, Mike.”
Mike grinned and sauntered back to the kitchen.
While waiting for his order, Jensen called his sister. The phone rang twice before she picked up.
“Hey, Jensen. What’s up?” She sounded a little out of breath when she answered.
“Hey, Mack. How are ya? You’re not busy, are you?” he asked.
“I’m doing alright. I’m actually on my way to class right now, but I’ve got a few minutes to spare for my favorite brother.” She laughed. He could hear chatter in the background; she was probably crossing the quad right then.
“Well, I was wondering if you have any plans this Friday night? We’re having one of those fancy-schmancy fundraiser dinners for work and I thought you’d like to go with me again.” She had seemed really eager the last time; Jensen really hoped she would be this time, too.
“Oh, Jen. I would love to go! But I have plans with Eric that night. I can cancel them if you really need me to though--” She trailed off, sounding sincere in her offer but also a lot like she was hoping he wouldn’t take her up on it.
“No, Mack. I don’t want you to break your plans with your boyfriend for a stupid party,” Jensen sighed. This was going to be a pain in the ass, he could tell already. “I’ll figure something out, so don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal.”
“Are you sure? I know how important these things are to you and I can be there if you need me. Don’t try and play this off for my sake.” She tried to assure him.
Mike placed his sub in front of him. He warily eyed it, peeking under the top slice to see if Mike had actually fucked with it or not. Mike grinned like a loon and gave him a “would I fuck with you?” look that Jensen didn't trust. At all.
“Jensen?” Mack's voice came down the line.
“No, really. It’s fine. Actually, I have to go.” Jensen smooshed the sub down, praying that there wasn't salmonella, or anything else for God's sake, in the sandwich. “My lunch is ready and I’m sure you’ve reached your class by now.”
Still grinning madly, Mike grabbed the proffered money from Jensen and slid his change across the counter. It was covered in mayonnaise. “Why are you such a jerk?” Jensen mouthed. Mike laughed, sliding down the counter to the next customer.
“Yeah, I have. But seriously, Jensen. Call me if you need me. I won’t leave you, or your nerd dick hanging, you know that. Take care of yourself. And call Mom! She said she hasn’t heard from you in weeks. Don’t make me be the one to fill her in on your life. She won’t like the stories I’ll come up with.”
“Alright, I will. I’ll call her later and let her know I’m still alive and kicking. Have a good time on Friday and tell Eric I said ‘Hi’, okay?” Jensen finished the call with his sister. He ran a hand over his face. Looks like he was showing up alone, once again.
He knew Mike wouldn’t go with him; he said they were too stuffy for him and the people there were too self-important. Which was true enough. Most of their clients and investors were pretty stuck on themselves; which was why Jensen was hoping his sister would be free to go with him.
Sighing, Jensen pushed the issue from his mind for the moment so that he could enjoy his sub and concentrate on his next project proposal for work. He didn’t have long to think about it before Mike was back in his line of sight.
“Why the long face, Jen? You know I didn't actually contaminate the chicken salad.”
Jensen shook his head and swallowed the mouthful of tasty sub.
“Yeah, no, Mike, it's great. I just have some stuff I’m trying to figure out.” Jensen tried to play it off.
Of course, Mike wasn’t buying it.
“Come on, man. Don’t try and fake it with me. How long have we known each other?”
“Since you scrubbed the puke from my bed.” Jensen laughed.
“Exactly. We've been, like, in the shit, man. So, c'mon, what’s got your pretty little eyebrows all scrunched up like that?” Mike wheedled.
Jensen flopped the sandwich down, rubbing the mayonnaise off his hands with a napkin.
“Fine. We have another fundraiser dinner this Friday and I don’t have anyone to bring with me. My sister is busy and I’ve barely had time to myself the last, shit, I don't even know, much less to spend on dates with probable losers. My boss made it pretty clear that I’m supposed to bring a date with me. I can’t really do that if I haven’t dated anyone in months, though. So I don’t really know what I should do.” Jensen knew he was rambling, but he was pissed off at how much time work stole from his life, and it all just sort of tumbled out.
“Shit, is that all? Here I thought it was serious.” Mike laughed.
“It’s not like I can just pick someone up off the street and ask if they want to go schmooze with a bunch of investors for a few hours. This isn’t some romantic comedy where I can hire some hooker who happens to have an amazing personality and is really just down on his luck. I think Michelle would be pretty disappointed if I showed up with some rent-boy instead of just going alone.” Jensen finished the rest of his sub and moved to leave. Mike waved him back over before he got too far.
“Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to laugh like that. It’s kind of funny, if you think about it. But seriously though, I think I have a solution for you. Come on over to my place tonight and I’ll tell you my brilliant idea over wings and beers. Saying ‘no’ is not an option here.”
Mike seemed genuine about helping Jensen out. They'd probably just end up re-watching Saturday’s college baseball game while downing a bucket of wings and a case of Keystone Light while Mike pontificated on some dumb-ass plan involving Craig's List and eBay.
At least Jensen would have company, though. Misery loved that.
Jensen got to Mike's place sometime after seven. He wished it had been because he'd gotten stuck in traffic. That would have been preferable to having to re-do the freaking font, of all things, on his latest project. The client wanted Calibri, not Arial. “Fine, not a problem!” Jensen had agreed. Except it was. A huge pain in his ass problem since each word had to be changed. Maybe he could design a program that did a global search and replace in images. He'd be fucking rich. And maybe monkeys would fly out of his ass.
Mike took one look at him, and promptly took the six-pack from under Jensen’s arm. The television was on and showing the pre-game revelry from Redman Stadium. Jensen tossed his suit jacket on the armchair arm and loosened his tie.
“I just ordered the food. It should be here in half an hour, tops.” Mike said as they settled down on the couch.
Jensen snapped two of the cans from the beer ring, handing one over to Mike. They cracked open their beers and took long pulls from the icy, if vaguely disgusting, brew. There were better beers out there, but somehow the two of them never got around to drinking anything but Keystone. They were classy that way.
Two beers later, Jensen took the plunge. “So what’s this ‘genius plan’ of yours, man?”
Mike's face broke out into a mischievous grin. “So you know how you said you need someone to take with you to this party or whatever on Friday? What if you could just hire someone off the street?”
“I was kidding. Jesus, you can’t do shit like that in real life, at least not around here. Hiring some prostitute to go as my date could land my ass on the street. Seriously, Mike, come on. Just suck it up and go with me for once. Delicious, catered food and it’s free. What more could you ask for?”
As Jensen spoke, Mike’s grin got wider and, if it was possible, more mischievous. Jensen didn’t like the look of it. That smile always promised trouble. Like the puking in his bed incident.
“No, I’m not going, fuck you very much. I’m not talking about some sleazy prostitute, dude” At Jensen's incredulous face, Mike shot back. “I'm serious! I know someone who can find you a date --a legitimate, perfectly legal date-- for Friday and it’ll only cost you as much as you’d normally spend on a few dinner dates.”
“No, no, no, no, no. No fucking way, Mike.”
“Don’t discount this out of hand! Let your dick think it over a bit.”
Jensen shook his head.
“You’re crazy. First, it's not my dick that needs to be thinking about this shit. It's got a pretty bad track record, and I'm not looking for an easy fuck. Second, what the hell is this ‘I know a guy who knows a guy’ shit? It sounds like something out of a mob movie.” Jensen snorted derisively.
“Jensen, I’m not joking. My buddy from college, Chad, runs this escort service for people who need a little arm candy or you know,” Mike waved his hand around in the general vicinity of Jensen's crotch, “for social situations. It’s discreet, totally above board, and pretty cheap. I’ll give you his number and you can call and ask him about it yourself. And if the date you get sucks, you never have to hear from him again. It’s a win-win, really.” He sounded like an infomercial, the way he sang this “Chad” guy’s business’s praises.
Jensen was about to respond when the doorbell rang signaling the arrival of their food. Their beers had long since been abandoned on the coffee table, rings of condensation gathering around the bases. He sighed and actually decided to give Mike’s suggestion some thought. Maybe he was a little desperate. Okay, fine, a lot desperate. His life, kinda, sorta, maybe sucked right now. Really, it was no different from a blind date, he supposed. A blind date that he was paying to have, anyway. Jensen grabbed up his beer and took a drink, cringing at how lukewarm it had become. Nothing like lukewarm swill to celebrate the choice of hiring an escort.
Yeah, his life totally sucked right now.
"Alright, I've got hot wings and pepperoni pizza. We can start the game now. Crack open another beer for me, would ya?" Mike asked, setting the food on the coffee table. He then went back into the kitchen for paper towels and plates. Jensen grabbed two more beers from the blessedly fridge-cold six-pack and sat back down on the couch.
"Thanks, man. This smells great." Jensen said as he grabbed a slice of cheesy goodness from the box.
They watched the game as they ate, yelling at the pre-recorded plays through mouthfuls of pizza and hot wings. By the time the fourth quarter ended, Mike and Jensen had polished off the pizza, most of the wings and were working on finishing off the rest of Mike's left-over beer.
"Okay, so I'm not promising anything, but maybe I might, I dunno, give this Chad guy a call and find out a little more. I'm trusting you enough that this isn't some shady hooker business."
Mike's triumphant smile made really, really hope Mike wasn’t pulling one over on him. Again.
"Great! Lemme get his number and you can give him a buzz tomorrow or something. Just let him know if you want a guy or a girl and just how formal the party will be, and whatever else he needs to know. These are complete professionals, I'm telling you. They do their homework and everything before they show up so they don’t make their clients look bad.”
Mike scrolled through his cell phone until he found Chad’s number and then he texted it to Jensen.
The next day at work, Jensen had tried, and mostly failed, to muster the cajones to call Chad. His thumb had hovered over the ‘Send’ button for the better part of the morning. Staring at it like it was a Magic 8 Ball and the answer would just magically appear, the phone beeped with a text message.
Of course it was Mike asking if he had found his balls and called yet. Fucker. He typed back yeah, jerkface. Was gonna do it on my lunch break. Mike shot back stop being such a panty waist and do it already. Nothing like words of encouragement and grace from a friend to call a damned pimp.
Jensen breathed deep, and with his eyes firmly shut, hit 'Send'.
The gruff voice that answered the phone was not what he was expecting. He didn’t really know what he had expected, to be honest. He thought maybe he should just hang up.
“Hello? Look, I can hear you breathing. Either speak or I’m hanging up. I don’t have time for crank calls.” The guy sounded irritated and ready to hang up himself.
“Sorry. Hi. Uh, this is Chad, right?” Jensen spurted out.
“Who wants to know?” the man asked. Jensen hoped it was Chad or he was about to sound like an idiot. Story of his freaking life.
“My name is Jensen and my friend Mike gave me your number. He said you could help me with a problem I’m having.”
“Depends on the problem. I don’t deal, if that’s what you’re looking for.” Chad told him warily.
“What? No. I need a date for a party and my friend said you’re the guy to call.” Jensen mentally crossed his fingers that this wasn't another one of Mike’s pranks.
“Yeah, this is Chad. I take it you mean Rosey gave you my number, right? Alright, what exactly are you looking for?” Chad asked after a long pause.
“Well, I need someone to go with me to a formal fundraiser dinner this Friday. The event is sponsored by my company and I kind of wanted someone to go with.” Jensen suddenly felt incredibly stupid and more than slightly embarrassed at having to call someone to get him a date. Then he reminded himself of how well the whole Rob thing had turned out, and sucked it up.
“Okay, I think I can find someone for you. Give me the details: time, location, gender preference, how ritzy is this thing going to be, what kind of job you have so my employee knows the type of conversation to expect. Oh, and we require a partial payment at least two-days in advance in the event you cancel at the last minute. My kids are busy and time is money, got it?” Chad was all business now. He asked his questions and the rapid-fire way he asked left Jensen almost dizzy.
“It’s Friday night, six o’clock, at the Caldwell Conservatory. But I’d prefer to meet at work to avoid questions from anyone and get a chance to go over a few things beforehand. Uh, I guess a guy would be fine but I’m not picky. It’s semi-formal, so a suit jacket and a tie are mandatory, at the least. I work for the planning and design firm Kripke and Associates. Most guests end up talking amongst themselves once dinner is underway, so my date would really be there for me to talk to, if anything.” As Jensen rattled off the details, he started to relax a little bit. He heard what sounded like pen scratching on paper from the other end; Chad was writing down the pertinent points.
“Okay, got it. How about I give you a call back later this afternoon and we can set up your payment. I’ll let you know who will be escorting you and if you have any questions or concerns, you can ask me then. Sound good? Oh, and what’s your last name? Standard client background check. If you’re a sleaze ball, I don’t want my kids anywhere near you, got it?” Chad asked him, a hard edge creeping into his tone.
“Yeah, sure. I understand completely. My name’s Jensen Ackles. Uh... this is definitely discreet though?”
“Totally. We understand that not everyone wants to broadcast that they’re hiring someone to be their date. That shit’s private and we understand that. I’ll call you later with the details. Have a nice day!”
Jensen thought it was seriously weird that a pimp would chirp out Have a nice day! but it wasn't like he had a lot of experience to compare it to. And now he did. This was definitely getting edited out of phone call to his mom later.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of client meetings and draft revisions. Jensen was just finishing up a memo reminding everyone to ask their clients what font type they preferred. He was seriously not going to deal with that shit again. His cell phone started ringing, sending Jensen scrambling to find the thing under the stacks of paperwork littering his desk.
Jensen saw Chad on the caller id. He was perversely proud his voice didn't tremble too much when he answered.
“Hey! I’ve got some good news. I’ve found someone for your Friday thing and I think he’ll be a good match for your needs. His name is Jared and I hope you don’t mind that he’s really tall. We're talking Yeti-tall, here. But, yeah, nice kid and a good conversationalist, if you need him to be.”
“Wow, uh, great. That’s great. I was a little worried that it would be too short notice to get anyone. I don’t mind tall guys; I’m pretty tall myself,” Jensen replied.
“Great. Now about the payment. For this type of event, it’s a flat rate of $250 since it’s pretty formal and he’ll need to dress up a little more than he would usually. I need a deposit of half of that by the close of business tomorrow or I’ll cancel your appointment with Jared. You can pay cash or by credit card. So we can either do a card payment over the phone or you can use our PayPal site. It’ll show up as a non-descriptive charge on your account, if you’re concerned. The other half of the payment will be due by Saturday night or you can pay Jared directly after the event ends.” He told Jensen, the details making this seem more real then Jensen thought he could handle at the moment. Oh God, Jensen was really going to go through with this.
“We can do the first payment over the phone. You take MasterCard, right?”
This was far from the worst decision he’d ever made.
Part Two