Characters: Jared, Jensen, Chris and a few others I am probably gonna throw into the mix.
Rating: pg.13 for now
Summary: An actor looking to hide, a quaint cabin by a beautiful lake and an old ghost story.....
Disclaimer: Unfortunately neither of these guys belong to me....I tried...but....they werent having any of it.
Authors note: Firstly I want to thank my wonderful new beta chrysrocks who is just wonderful! garvaldmains without whom I would not be here, she is my rock and my inspiration and understands and pushes and bullies and cheers me on and lord I couldnt write if i didnt have her to talk to about it. Finally kes1807 cause she is simply the best, always reads over what I have and always encourages and I love her!
I will post a chapter a week, that I promise.
Jensen sighed into the phone, and waited for Chris to continue.
“Seriously dude? Wyoming?”
Jensen sighed again, “Yes, Wyoming, Cheyenne to be exact, and no I’m not losing my mind, I need to get away.”
“What the fuck is wrong with Wyoming? “
“There is nothing wrong with Wyoming! Hell, Cheyenne is a great city, been there a couple times myself for the rodeos, but it isn’t someplace I would have thought you’d be interested in going.”
“Exactly Chris. That’s exactly why I want to go there. I found a neat little cabin near the water, no one will bother me. Hell, no one would ever think to look for me there. It’s just what I need. I just...Jesus Chris it’s all blown to hell. I’ve been outed to the fucking world by my own stupidity. My agent wants to kill me, my Mom has been sobbing on the phone at every opportunity...I just...I need to get the hell away for a while, at least until things die down a bit, and then I can come back and talk to whoever the fuck wants to talk to me.”
“Ok, ok dude, I got it, ok...you’re probably right, but...you sure leaving now is the right thing? Maybe you should square your shoulders, and just face it?”
Jensen fought off the panic he could feel threatening to take over, the panic that had been on the rise since the media had released the pictures, those stupid goddamn pictures of him and Tom. He was getting an ulcer but Tom loved it. He should, the bastard was making money hand over fist selling his story, and those fucking pictures of them together, to the highest bidder. Jesus, the guys had warned him about getting involved with Tom. They told him time and again how vindictive the asshole was, but Jensen hadn’t listened. Tom seemed perfect at the time. He was sexy, tall, and strong; Jensen just wanted to have a little fun. He’d thought that was Tom wanted too
Jensen had been sadly mistaken.
Tom hadn’t taken it well when Jensen called him to his plush L.A. home and ended their relationship. Jensen hadn’t been alarmed that’s how it usually went when these things happened. People got upset and said stuff, and then they got over it. Jensen thought that was the end of it, and he’d been stunned, when not two days later, pictures of them together were plastered over every newspaper and T.V. station. Those pictures had been accompanied by images of Tom’s ‘heartbroken’ face, as he told the story of the big Hollywood star that had carelessly used him, and then thrown him out when he was done.
That wasn’t what happened, but the media ate it up. They weren’t interested in the truth. They wanted the big story, the lies about what an asshole he was, and how he had gone to great lengths to hide the fact that he was gay. They eagerly embraced Tom’s lie about how Jensen had threatened him with violence if he ever told anyone Jensen’s secret.
Jensen screwed his eyes closed, and took a couple of deep breaths, “I can’t, not yet Chris, Tom told all those fucking lies and nobody’s interested in the truth, not yet. The only thing he said that was the truth is that I’m gay, the rest....all lies Chris and I can’t...I just can’t deal with it right now.”
“Alright man, I got it. Just at least give me a number I can contact you, ok? An address? You want me to come with?”
Jensen smiled for the first time since calling Chris, “Thanks man, I’m ok. I think some alone time is what I need right now. I will call you guys and you can come up when it’s settled ok? Just, right now, I need to be alone to lick my wounds, and feel sorry for myself.”
Chris chuckled, but when he spoke again his concern for his friend was evident in his voice, “Ok man, just...call me ok? You need anything you call me, alright?”
“I will Chris....thank you.”
“That’s what I’m here for dude! Now go on then....go lick your wounds and hurry back, you hear?”
Jensen hung up the phone a couple of minutes later already feeling lighter; leaving was the right thing to do. He wasn’t an A lister, but his career was on the edge of taking off. He believed he’d been one good script away from being right up there, and then he’d blown it by getting involved with someone like Tom. He needed to give the media time to find someone else to hound, someone else to talk about, and he would come back to pick up the pieces and try to carry on.
So Cheyenne it was; it was a great city, with awesome sights and great rodeo and bull riding competitions. Jenson wasn’t interested in any of the tourist attractions; he just wanted somewhere to go where he wouldn’t be bothered. He had seen a brochure thrown carelessly in Chris’ apartment about the rodeos, and on impulse he had gone online and found an out of the way cabin for rent. He didn’t care if he didn’t see anyone while he was there, in fact that was just the way he wanted it.
The next day he left for Cheyenne.
Jensen clutched the steering wheel and stared out the window of his truck. He was trying to decide if he was horrified or captivated by the sight of the little cabin facing him. Now he understood the look of glee on the realtor’s face as he had handed over the keys and instructions on how to get there, along with the assurance that he’d had a maid service out there the day before. The realtor told Jensen he’d arranged for the cupboards to be stocked, and had grinned widely when Jensen looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
Jensen should have guessed then, but he was anxious to get started hiding and he had left without asking questions. He stopped off at a local grocery story to pick up some essentials. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the realtor; he just wasn’t willing to trust that someone else had stocked his precious coffee. The look of fascination on the face of the boy at the checkout hadn’t bothered him, being a semi-famous actor it happened. It was when Jensen told him where he was headed and the kid grinned and called an elderly man over to tell him where Jensen was going that he realised something was not right. It was the look of awe, mixed in with a little ‘are you out of your friggin mind?’ on the old man’s face that had brought him up short.
Now looking out the window at the cabin, Jensen remembered how the old man had seemed to take great pleasure telling him in his gruff old man’s voice about the haunted cabin and the stretch of water that it was built beside. What was it he said? Something about a grieving lover and a suicide? Jensen snorted; he had heard better stories from struggling writers in L.A., never mind an old man trying to scare a newbie. Jensen didn’t have time for shit like that. What he saw in front of him was a rustic looking cabin that had been quaint in its day, but was sorrowfully neglected.
It was obvious that an effort to clean up had been made after he’d agreed to sign a lease. The wanna be yard was over grown and little attempt had been made to clear it. The cabin was isolated, not only by distance from others in the area but also by the trees surrounding it, lending an air of ‘keep away’ to the sad looking place. A window had been left open to let in some air, and as Jensen got out of the truck, keys in hand, and slowly headed inside he couldn’t help but think that as neglected as the place was he liked it. He liked it a lot.
Jensen walked through the small cabin, taking it all in, the front door opened to a small but cosy living room, an average size kitchen was built off of it, the modern equipment looked out of place in the rustic setting. The bathroom and bedroom were at the back of the cabin. It was clean, but the recent cleaning didn’t mask the scent of a house shut up for too long. Jensen opened the front door wide to let in some more air, while he got his bags from the truck. As he took his time unpacking and looking around, checking out cupboards and nooks and crannies, Jensen couldn’t help thinking about the old man’s tale.
It had been disjointed and scrappy, but he had been going for effect rather than quality. Telling Jensen about the cries in the dead of night, the heartbroken wails, and the sound of the door crashing open before the figure of a man was seen by the water’s edge and then walking into the water never to be seen again. He’d gone on about how it was impossible for the owners to rent the place out. No one wanted to stay there when they heard those stories. Jensen smiled as he remembered, if they wanted to scare him, they would be waiting awhile, he had never believed that supernatural nonsense. Living in L.A. he had seen firsthand some of the stunts people pulled to get their point across, that alone was enough to cement the fact that he believed such things were nothing more than colourful stories and overactive imaginations. Sure, the cabin wasn’t as glamorous as the ones he had seen up the road, but that didn’t bother him. He had what he wanted peace and silence; if the stories kept busybodies away, that was just fine with him.
Sitting out on the makeshift deck in the front of the house that night as the sun went down, Jensen nursed the beer in his hand and watched the hypnotic movement of the water so close to the cabin. It was beautiful, almost haunting, and sitting there alone, with his legs stretched out in front of him; Jensen knew he could really get used to the place. It was perfect.
For the first time since everything had all blown up in his face, Jensen felt at peace.