Big Bang 2012: Love Lies Burning. 13/24
The press follow Jared to the Padalecki Building to join others thronging there. Security maintains a barrier while Jared strides up the steps and gives an embarrassed grin to the doorman. He turns while he’s on the top step, scanning the sidewalk and gardens, but there is no sign of Jensen. He’s still high on the aftershocks of his orgasm and he feels mellow. He has no idea what he’s going to do about Jensen. Every time he faces down reporters he’s angry all over again, but he’s worried too. Chad Murray was right about Jen being ill and the man had to be freaked to leave his dog behind.
He hasn’t the time to dwell on it. His attention is drawn to the sight of a police cruiser pulling in at the side of the street. Detective Pearson is engaged in a serious conversation with uniformed cops, he’s giving orders and Jared can see another car by the side exit of Padalecki Inc. He closes his eyes, counts to five and opens them once more, in the hope he is imagining it. There’s no doubt why the detective is here, and Jared is looking at the mass of reporters and imagining the ordeal his brother will go through when he is taken, in handcuffs, through this rabid crowd.
He won’t allow Jeff to endure the humiliation.
Photographs are being taken as he delays on the step, and he hears shouts and questions directed at him. There’s a particularly strident voice, asking if he is gay. Jared is not known for the wisdom of his snap decisions but he makes one anyway. His next actions are going to create a ruckus. At least, that is the plan. He gives the doorman a set of instructions, texts Alona and then he stands straight, buttons his jacket and runs nervous fingers through his hair. He takes a downward step toward the noisy rabble and waits for the right question to be asked.
“Are you gay, Mr. Padalecki?”
He recognizes the woman, a second rate columnist for a local rag. Jared licks his lips and opens his mouth. At first no sound comes out and then he’s speaking, loud and clear, “Yes, Ms. Smith, I am as gay as a unicorn’s tea party. Not that it’s any of your business.”
There’s momentary silence and then there’s a light storm of flashing cameras and a thunder of noisy questions. He wishes he had a camera to capture the stunned expressions of his receptionist and doorman.
“There’s a large conference room free if the ladies and gentlemen of the press have any further questions for me. I believe we can have refreshments arranged for those who wish to attend.”
The doorman unlocks the large double doors, while the corridor to the largest conference room is being cleared. Detective Pearson is hanging back, waiting for the mass to disperse. He catches Jared’s eye and gives him a knowing nod and mock salute in an unspoken acknowledgement of the action.
Jared leads the way. He’s the Pied Piper of Hamlin, whistling the rats into the mountain. Alona joins him and he introduces her as they delay the main event by shifting chairs and adjusting lighting, promising drinks and then pouring them from shiny thermos jugs. Every minor inconvenience adds a few minutes to the distraction.
“You stole my line,” mutters Alona as they fiddle with plates of fresh made cookies and cakes, “And you’re lucky these weren’t already gone, you told Misha to give them to the press for breakfast.”
“This is breakfast,” argues Jared. They make for the small teaching podium at the front of the room. While their backs are turned to the crowd Alona hisses at him, “What the hell are you doing?”
“Honestly?” He looks at her with slightly wild eyes, “I don’t know. Professional suicide? Stay by my side.” He gives a puppy dog expression and she sighs. She’s starting to wonder if her boss has an identical twin or a split personality, this version is adorably human.
The questions start out general, and he makes sure to ramble when he answers.
Yes, the picture of him is real. He will be taking legal action against anybody who published it. Actually, it was taken by an amateur photographer, and he’s not ashamed of it. Yes. He has talked to Matt Cohen, but he would like the opportunity to publicly apologize for getting him caught in the crossfire. He doesn’t regret the affair with Matt. There was mutual respect and love, but it broke up when he realized that he could never compete with the love that Matt has for his wife. Mrs. Cohen is a beautiful woman who doesn’t deserve to be hounded by the press.
Yes, Ms. Smith, he is aware he has a fine ass but he doesn’t want to make others feel inadequate by having it on public display.
Yes, his father knew he was gay. Was there an issue? Jared inherited Padalecki Inc., does any more need to be said?
Padalecki Inc. is his mistress. No, he is not in a relationship at the moment. He’s choking on a glass of water as he says it. He’s not sure what the morning’s encounter would be defined as and he doesn’t need to be distracted by the lewd images of it that are replaying in his head.
No, being gay does not make him any more or less predisposed to having baking skills.
There are pockets of laughter between serious topics and only a few of the reporters are being malicious or homophobic. They all seem genuinely surprised to see this lighter side of the businessman.
Yes, he is aware of Jeff’s affair. It is not his place to discuss it, sometimes marriages break down, and he is there for his brother and his sister-in-law. He doesn’t blame or dislike Danneel.
Is there a problem with his brother dating an executive of their closest rival? Why should there be? On the subject of Nana’s, friendly rivalry is good, they both have excellent products, and the city should be proud of the business they create. It should be their aim to promote quality local products and squash competition from out of state and overseas.
There are rumors that he fights with his brother. What can he say about the bruising on his face? A fight with a chair. The chair won. Of course there is sibling rivalry, they are normal brothers.
He’s answering smoothly, totally relaxed in front of the mob, and he’s unaware of the impression he is making. There are small untruths, but he hasn’t time for an elaborate hoax or lie. There’s gut instinct and genuine feeling. When a right wing reporter for a business paper suggests that the announcement will create a slump in profits because people don’t want to buy gay products, he fixes him with a stare and asks how many biscuits the man has eaten. Alona slides a notebook to her boss. She’s been keeping count for certain journalists, as requested by Jared.
“They are tasty. You’ve had two biscuits and some cake. Do you feel any different? You must tell us if they turn you gay.” Jared holds up an empty plate, “I’m actually thrilled that y’all enjoyed the treats because they are Padalecki products, and they were made last night, in my kitchen. By me.” He pauses and gives a gleeful and evil chuckle and adds, “in drag.”
A few of the journalists cease writing and glance to the podium. They have a look of doubt, “You’re quite the comedian,” remarks the questioner.
“Well. I’m telling the truth about baking them. As for the rest,” he shrugs, “you guys have hounded me, it’s only right I get to play with you. You’ll have to decide how much I’m teasing you.” Alona is fit to be tied, doubled over in silent laughter. “Padalecki Inc. is in superb shape. Our products speak for themselves. We are market leaders and ethical suppliers. Our shareholders and investors are intelligent, broad minded businessmen. They don’t bend to gossip and outside pressure.” He wants to cross his fingers and toes at this part. It’s mostly wishful thinking and bluff.
“So can we say that you are out and proud?” It is the slight lady from the Pink Blaze, an LGBT publication.
Hell, he’s already jumped in feet first and is out of his depth, what are another few fathoms? “I would like for young people to know that sexual orientation doesn’t prevent business success. I am hoping to get us more actively involved in campaigns like ‘It Gets Better’ and there are some early plans to team up with Nana’s with a joint product that benefits city wide organizations including the Rainbow Alliance and anti-bullying causes." So what if the plans are too early for Nana's to have heard about them? Jared resolves to arrange a meeting with Danneel as soon as the press conference is over. With all he knows from Jeff he has enough leverage to make it happen.
“How do you stand on the issue of gay marriage?”
“Everyone deserves the chance to make a formal commitment to the person they love, irrespective of race, religion or sexual orientation. I would like to see a society that treats everybody equally.”
There’s the loud buzz of chatter and boisterous questions being shouted. He knows it’s only a matter of time before the news of his brother’s arrest reaches the piranhas in the room. He looks to Alona who nods an all clear. “This has been interesting, but I really must wrap it up. I have business to attend to. If you would like information of a commercial nature, please do not hesitate to contact our press office.”
Security is already moving in to clear the room, thank goodness for an efficient P.A. There are a few shouts of thanks which he thinks is a hopeful sign.
The lady for the Pink Blaze hangs back and taps his arm as he passes to exit, “If I call your office will you give us an interview at a later date? It would be good to have an inspirational piece.”
Jared blinks and stops walking. He’s been called a lot of things but inspirational has to be a first. He feels guilty because he knows the purpose of this exercise was no more than a smoke screen. He would still be at the back of the closet if it weren’t for circumstances.
“I don’t think I meet the criteria,” he says.
She frowns and looks sincere, “Of course you do. You’re rich and successful, you have a badass reputation. Everything you said in there, you’re not afraid to be yourself and do what you think is right.”
Except he doesn’t do what is right because somewhere in the city Jen is in God knows what condition and he is the cause of it. He hasn’t even thought to ensure the man’s dog is safe. He has put Padalecki before Jensen’s welfare and isn’t that the story of Jen’s entire, ill-fated life? “I have my issues.” Jared wants to slap his head for the comment, because journalist.
The room is virtually empty, but she leans to speak quietly to him, “We all do, but I’ve seen your type before. When you find the right man you’ll be head over heels and it won’t matter who he is or what anyone thinks because you’ll do whatever it takes. That is one of the best examples you can be. FYI, when it happens I want an exclusive of your wedding.” She slips her card to him and leaves.
Jared isn’t listening to anyone as he makes his way to his office. Alona makes sure the door is shut behind them and blocks all calls. Kim and Misha are dealing with the practical fall-out of Jeff’s arrest and it seems that a legal team is already in place. He’s silent and listless, pacing back and forth, picking up items from his desk and putting them back down on Alona’s workspace. He reaches for the binoculars that have become a normal part of his surroundings and rattles the blinds to gain a better view. Jensen isn’t in the gardens or anywhere in sight.
Alona tuts her annoyance at his distractions and frowns at him, “Go. Get out of here! You know Kim and I have everything covered. We’ll make sure all department heads give a morale boosting talk to their staff. We’ll give out No Comments, I’ll clear your schedule and delegate. You’re no good to us like this.” Alona is giving him a stern school marm glare and proffering his jacket. “I’ll order a cab to get you to the police station.”
“Thanks.” With his act over, he’s pale, his features are drawn tight. “Actually,” he falters and then nods to himself, “Yeah, order the cab. Get it to pull into our basement parking bays, then go back out with someone in it. Find somebody tall with dark hair. There’s got to be someone in the building that can pass for me at a glance. It will throw the hounds off my scent for a few minutes. Get me a company car, something small and anonymous. A van, anything.”
“What’s the point? They’ll make you the moment you get to the precinct.”
Jared is unconsciously turning his cell in his hand, round and round, “Let Jeff stew a while, making a fuss won’t help. I’m not going there.” There’s an expression on his face that dares her to ask the question but she knows better than to do that.
“Yes, Mr. Padalecki.”
There’s too much frigid air and not enough to breathe. The sun is weak but high in the sky and it’s not the right time to be at Jared’s home, but he finds himself there, nonetheless. Lorretta is shouting at Jensen, she’s wielding a broom and threatening to call the cops. He wants to explain but he doesn’t know what to say, couldn’t say it anyway. He puts his hand down for the comfort of touching Sadie’s head. His fingers move through empty space, and he’s approaching melt down because he’s in the wrong place at the wrong time and he’s lost Sadie. He has to think but his mind is hot and cold, cotton wool with a pounding hammer. He’s covered in the scent of Jared but that doesn’t mean Jared wants him. He remembers what he did. It was dirty, bad, wrong, inappropriate and yet sweet like cinnamon. It’s terrible and yet so good he feels like he could fly. He’s a jet leaving silver white trails in an azure sky but he’s feeble and his limbs don’t want to move. He’s sure it shouldn’t be so. In the movies there’s so much more before partners sleep, content in each others’ arms. He can’t comprehend how good that would feel. He wonders if Jared would try. They could help each other feel like rockets cutting through the blackest outer space, faster than light. He’s sure that Jared would like it.
There’s a woman’s screech and the banging of a broom on black-top and he remembers to move. Time to go, but he’s not sure where. He can’t think straight and he needs sleep. There’s a risk in going back to his squat during the day but the comfort of the saggy old armchair draws him back there. Sadie’s a good dog and Chad will see to her. Jensen will collect her after a nap. A short sleep will stop his reality from spinning colors into blurred lines and jumbled maths. He’ll take the medicine that Jared gave him and his throat might stop its scraping, fiery agony, his lungs may calm and ease. It’s a plan and his fevered exhaustion is all consuming.
Jensen fumbles the key and collapses over the threshold of the basement apartment. He’s shivering so hard he thinks his teeth may break. It’s alright though, Josh is here and it’s warm in his light. Grandma Padalecki paints ochre flowers and marshmallow sunsets just for him and his ma sings. He closes his eyes and the colors change and pursue him into the coal-dark corners where flickering flames of fiery scarlet and vermilion surround him and his brother shouts through the crackle and ash. Jared’s hazel eyes burn into him through the chaos and Jensen’s reaching out, chasing him through a narrow path that’s closing in on him. He wants this to end but he won’t give up until he catches up with Jared. He needs him to understand.
Sadie licks at Jared’s fingers. She’s walking obediently to heel like she’s known him all her life. He stops to kneel and she lets him hug into her fur and inhale her doggy wet smell. It shouldn’t be comforting to him but it is. It’s a connection to Jen, a promise to find him.
Chad had been astonished by the businessman’s sudden arrival and had treated his desire to find the vagrant with clear mistrust. It had taken a mixture of cajoling and threats to get him to release Sadie into his care, along with all the details Chad had gathered about the man’s routine.
They’ve searched the train station and the bus station and the librarian has asked Jared to pass on her best wishes when he finds Jensen. Now he’s outside the Market Street shelter and the man in charge, Christian, is giving him a cold stare with deep blue eyes. Jared thinks the man might punch him and he’s no idea what he’s done to deserve it.
“You’re Jared Padalecki. You were on the local news.” It is a statement not a question.
Jared blushes and nods. “Caught me, I guess.” He extends a hand to shake and it is ignored.
“What do you want?”
“I need to find Jen. He left his dog at the sports center.”
“He would never leave Sadie. Tell me why I shouldn’t call the cops on your ass.”
“He’s sick.”
“Why would you be interested? What is it you want from him?” The questions are laced with suspicion and the guy’s eyes are narrowing.
“I’m worried about him.”
“Tell me another.”
Jared hasn’t time for this. Sadie is whining and there’s despair driving him. All his anger has gone and a deep seated instinct tells him that he has to find Jensen soon. “He’s an old school friend and I care, okay? I care …” he pauses, “… a lot. He needs help.”
“Seems to me, Jen’s been needin’ help for a while. He has a list of friends and you’re not on it.”
There are tears of frustration gathering in the corner of the hazel eyes, “Because I’m an asshole, because he doesn’t know he can ask and I would be there. Because I didn’t know it until now.”
Christian is angry. He heard what the cops had to say about the Padaleckis, and he’s been warned of the danger to Jen, but Chris is also trained to read people’s body language and Jared’s panic seems real enough. There’s the memory of Jensen asking for Jared, saying he trusted the man, and he’s aware that life rarely follows a neat path. He sighs, “He’s not here and I haven’t seen him since last night. He doesn’t stay here because he has Sadie. I think he has somewhere local but he hasn’t told me. Do you want me to hold on to Sadie? I can call the animal shelter.”
“No! Jesus, no! He’ll need her,” Jared scowls at the man and the blue eyes soften a fraction.
“Well. I have food to prepare. Jen knows where we are if he needs us.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“For what?” Christian turns on his heel. The question is laced with sarcasm.
“For being there. For Jen, for them,” Jared indicates a group of tramps drinking tea and playing dominoes in the day room. He’s shocked at the revelation that he genuinely cares.
Jared drives in circles, stopping under arches and looking down alleyways. Every so often somebody squints at him, as if they may recognize him. He stoops his shoulders and lets his hair cover his face. Nobody expects the executive to be searching dead end doorways and rundown buildings and it’s enough to keep unwarranted attention at bay.
He’s cold, tired and hungry. Worry is gnawing a painful hole in his stomach and pulling a tight band around his head. He doesn’t know what to do and he doesn’t understand why it has become so important to him. Misha has been calling to leave frantic messages, asking where he is and he has no words to explain so he ignores him and stuffs his cell further into his pocket. Sadie wraps her warmth reassuringly against his leg and he tangles his fingers in her fur. “We’re gonna find him girl. We’re gonna make this right.” He repeats it like a mantra and offers a silent prayer.
As if in answer, Jared’s cell vibrates with a different ringtone and he grabs at it, almost dropping it in his haste, “Jim. You got my message.”
There’s a short discussion and his relief is tangible. The call is followed by a text with GPS coordinates, which he programs into the car’s sat nav. He pushes Sadie into the passenger seat and prays for real, offering bargains and promises to a God he doesn’t believe in, to any that will listen.
The block that Jim has directed Jared to is old and unkempt. There are water stains marking the masonry and the woodwork is rotting. Several of the apartments are abandoned and in disrepair, but the door to the basement apartment would be solid enough, if it weren’t for the fact that it is standing ajar. There’s the musty smell of mold and urine and a sharper fragrance of household detergent making an ineffectual attempt to mask the more fetid scents.
Jared pauses momentarily. This is madness, some sort of obsession and it is far from safe. He has no permission to be in this home and no clue what lies behind the door. It is in a high crime district and he is alone. It’s the first time he’s ever thought that carrying a gun might be a good idea. He hasn’t got a gun; he doesn’t even carry a mace spray. Why would he? He never ventures outside his privileged, safe, life.
He’s thankful for the quiet leather soles of his designer boots as he treads softly over the doorstep. The still cold of an empty house surrounds him, and he lets relief flood over him. Entering a stranger’s home for no good reason would be hard to explain. It’s a hollow victory, Sadie strains at her leash, and he lets go as he notices a figure sprawled, barely conscious, on the floor.
There’s a tall man kneeling over Jensen with a scarf and a syringe and Jared wants to burst with gratitude because somebody has already called a doctor. The feeling doesn’t last because Sadie is growling with menace and there’s guilty surprise on the stranger’s face. He’s looking to the door and window and sizing up his chances with Jared. There’s a strong, sweet smell of opiate and Jared is struggling to understand because he’s sure that Jensen doesn’t take drugs. Jensen’s eyelids flicker open and, in the time it takes for Jared to smile at him, the stranger is barrelling into him with a left hook and a hefty punch to his stomach. Jared goes to the ground with a loud “hmph”.
The world spins; there are bright lights and an explosion of blood from his nose. Sadie is barking frantically and snarling and then there’s a high pitched whine and she becomes silent. Jared struggles to get up, he’s on all fours, taking his weight on his hands and shaking his head to focus. The stranger has Jensen pinned to the floor with his knees and he’s tying a tourniquet. Jensen is pale, wet with sweat and fear, he’s got one hand free but his efforts to hit out at his attacker are disjointed and easily evaded. There’s a whimper that changes to an airless wheeze and Jared can see that Jen is crying and shaking his head, silently pleading with the man who has successfully cut off the blood supply in his thigh. One hand aims a gleam of deadly metal at Jared and there’s a flash of plastic with a fine jagged needle in the other.
“It’s a pathetic life. See it as a favor. Why would you even want to live? It’s not a bad way to go.” It’s a chilling reassurance from a killer.
Hired killer, thinks Jared. There’s a part of his heart that runs cold because he knows why this stranger is here and who is paying him. Jared had been asked if he wanted to take this action and he had considered it as a viable option before dismissing the notion.
“I’m Jared Padalecki, you don’t want to do this,” he spits through a bloody lip.
An ice cold stare turns on him and there’s an unpleasant sneer, “And I’m the fuckin’ queen, Sugar. Wait your turn.” He sees the underside of the boot as it crushes into his cheek and he yelps at its impact but there’s quick movement from Jensen, who reaches his free hand to grab at the ankle before it returns to the floor. Jared reaches to add a shove to the unbalanced assassin, and the man tumbles through the air with one hand open to soften the impact of his fall. The syringe makes an arc through the room and lands close to Jensen. The stranger’s knife is forced through his own palm and he screams as it slices deep into his fingers with crimson ooze. Jared is frozen with fear, he knows he only has moments before the killer rallies and turns on them both, but his hands seem glued to the floorboards and his feet are lead.
There’s sudden movement from Jensen. He’s glassy eyed and rasping but he’s holding the syringe like a dagger. As the stranger turns to take revenge on the crawling executive, Jensen raises his arm and plunges the syringe down into his neck with startling speed and accuracy. The stranger has a sudden ‘O’ on his lips and wide, frantic eyes but Jared doesn’t think that any mercy will be rewarded. There is feeling returning to Jared's limbs and he uses the shock of the moment to make a grab for the killer’s knife. He holds it out in front of himself as he shuffles to be by Jensen’s side. Eyelids shut over green eyes; Jensen is shaking and he's fast fading into unconsciousness. Jared uses the knife to cut through the tourniquet but he’s watching the deadly stranger for any sign of a renewed attack. He strokes his hands through Jensen’s sweat-dampened hair, still watching, when the killer’s breathing slows and he slumps with eyes fixed and staring.
Jared sits on the bloody wooden floor of an empty apartment with two dying men, an unconscious dog and the evidence of a heroin overdose, while his brother faces murder charges in the local jail. He may never get the opportunity to tell Jensen he cares for him. Every worry he has ever had about Padalecki Inc. or his own fortune suddenly seems trivial. He leans his face to Jensen’s. There’s a shallow breath that rattles from lungs drowning in fluid. He places a kiss to the burning, pale lips and stirs himself from his shocked stupor. He has to act swiftly.
Part 14
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