New series! I can't resist the lure of incorporating cliches and pop culture into my writing one more second. This is what came out. I made up the hashtags and the handles and everything. None of this is real insofar as I know. So I hope I haven't committed a twitter faux pas. I own nothing, save my ideas. Please review! (P.S. It's been almost a year since I wrote a screenplay. Jeez, what I've forgotten shows! Sorry!)
FADE IN:
INT. TALK SHOW STUDIO - MORNING
FIONA
Today on Agriculture Culture we will be discussing one of the most sensational dynamic duos horsemanship has seen in decades.
Footage of Deerpath Ranch is shown on screen as Fiona continues speaking, the barn, the rings, the pastures, and other such spaces are featured. Fade into SAM and JAKE working with a high profile case, the Senator's famous Rally Horse. JAKE looks at camera, and gestures to SAM. The footage fades.
FIONA
Hailed horse whispers of a new generation, the owners of Deer path Ranch in Northern Nevada take on cases that few other equine professionals would dare, and often achieve sensational, storybook endings.
Various news clippings of SAM and JAKE's work are shown in a short montage highlighting some of their more high profile cases including work with government officials and a tabloid cover of celebrity clients.
FIONA
After their rise to fame two years ago, Sam Forster and her partner, Jake Ely, have tackled more than just high profile cases.
In the corner of the screen, the VA logo is shown as FIONA continues.
FIONA
JACOB and SAMANTHA have maintained that they are simple ranchers who train horses on a part time basis, but their continual work with horses and veterans' with PTSD suggest that they have stayed true to their roots even as they deny their fame. SAMANTHA'S father owns a ranch near their highly private ranch, as does the ELY family. The couple is notoriously private and has never granted a personal interview.
Footage of River Bend and Three Ponies are shown, mainly of a recent family party for CODY. The footage is blurred and choppy and obviously shot from a distance.
FIONA
Despite a decades long relationship that has sometimes been speculated as romantic, other sources suggest that this rumor is finally being put to rest, being
that SAMANTHA has recently been spotted in Fargo, ND, working alone. Could there be trouble in paradise for the golden couple of Deerpath Ranch?
A photo of SAM and JAKE walking hand in hand through a farmer's market is shown. The photo was obviously taken by a cell phone.
FIONA
What say you, viewer? Our call-in hour begins in three minutes. I'm Fiona Phillips, this is Agriculture Culture, and we'll be right back after this.
Jazzy music plays as the camera zooms out over the sitting room style set. Fiona smiles, and the show fades to commercial.
FADE OUT.
Voices, images, and sounds filled his brain. His body was alight with awareness and knowing. He loved this floating part of the morning. He felt so whole. He was not going to get out of bed, no matter what she said. Jake stirred, smelling the warm scent of boiling tea and the frying of eggs. His fingers hurt suddenly, and his eyes popped open. Satisfaction slid down his limbs, as he tasted warm toast in his mouth. "I'm up." Sam was cruel. There was no raisin bread in the house, and there she was, literally waxing rhapsodic about it, "Cool your jets."
He heard a soft chuckle as the sensations were dampened, "I've been up for hours." Jake rolled out of his bed at Deerpath, and heard Quinn going downstairs to eat. He had to hurry if there was going to be any coffee left. At 26, he was still seen as the little brother by all of them, and was likely to end up with an oatmeal sandwich if he didn't hurry. Jake closed off his mind and quickly dressed, ignoring the build up of thoughts and emotions that happened when shut off a very alive part of his conciseness. He dropped the mental focus only to feel a thousand tiny thoughts rush forward. He saw flashes of a plate of eggs that he wished he was eating, felt the warmth of a mug of herbal tea that he'd never drink in his hands, and saw the world take on a new inflection, one that was softer and more loving. He closed his eyes quickly to push that away as a twinge of something strange, foreign, alien, and all too familiar knotted in his abdomen. Jake looked at the calendar and groaned as he walked into the kitchen. Annoyance of his own ripped through him as Quinn sat there, eating the last of the Frosted Flakes. He wasn't up to making breakfast, he wanted his damn cereal, and his idiot brother was eating it. Quinn saluted him with his spoon.
"What?" Sam's voice was laughing, pushing at the edges of his vision. He let her have her way, and could feel her seeing, secondarily, through his eyes. Jake ignored how odd it still felt after all of these years and went over to the cupboard and poured half the box of fruit loops into a bowl. Sam was disproving, "You really should eat some fruit or something."
Jake returned, "Why don't you come home, then?" She could just come home if she was going to nag and boss and make his brain hurt. These distances made it harder.
Jake felt the chill of the wind as it blew past Sam. She had beaten him outside, and this wasn't her first time outside. Quinn broke in, "Morning Sammy!"
Jake found himself rooted back in the kitchen at Three Ponies, staring at his brother, his cereal in front of him. He sometimes loved it when he spaced out like that, when he was physically here but mentally wherever she was. It was creepy sometimes, though. Jake leveled a look at his brother, but was distracted by chatter in his head. "I'm not Western Union, Sam. I'm not repeating that." He said it out loud, and Quinn grinned.
Emotions were overwhelming him. He was pushed to the edge as images flooded his brain. All he could think about were ASPCA commercials. Tears filled his eyes. She was showing him pictures of poor kittens with no homes when he said to Quinn, "Sam wants you to know that..." She was starting in on him with the abandoned, sick, puppies. He couldn't take it anymore. She knew he was emotional right now, and she was exploiting that for her own sadistic gain. She was evil. Evil. "She misses you very much, Quinn."
Jake pictured exactly how he was going to get her back for that one, and felt her sensory feedback with a thread of anticipation. Quinn was unawares, and Jake was miserable when he realized that Sam wasn't actually in the room, staring at him with wide eyes like he'd actually surprised her.
Quinn paused, "I caught a few minutes of Agriculture Culture this morning." Quinn said, and Jake groaned. That Fiona was the gossip queen of their entire industry. Sam wrote her a Christmas card just to have the pleasure of tearing it up. Jake knew this morning's batch of speculation was bad when Quinn asked, "When she getting back from North Dakota, anyhow?" Sam's insistence his mind faded back to normal awareness with a soft flood of warmth. She should be thankful after what she put him through just now.
"Not soon enough." Jake said, sticking his spoon into his cereal, "Why she said we just had to take that case out there is beyond me." Jake pushed the play button on the message machine and listened to the first of 75 messages asking for a booking with Deerpath Ranch's owners to look at their horse. Jake pushed pause with some level of annoyance as some woman asked them to find out what her mare wanted her foal to be named. Like they could actually do that. There weren't mind readers. How did people keep getting their numbers, anyway?
Quinn noticed his expression as the woman's annoying voice faded away, "Haven't you heard? Sam Forster and her sidekick, Jake Ely, are Horse Whisperers." They weren't sidekicks, but Jake allowed the brother whose paychecks he signed to continue on, "The rumor going round is that they can telepathically communicate with their cases, can see the world through their eyes, feel their emotions, and they might even be able to channel them." Quinn ate another bite of cereal, and spoke around his food,"What a load of bunk. Who ever heard of channeling a horse?"
Jake rolled his eyes, "Yeah, because being able to do all of that with your girlfriend isn't freaky at all."
It had started out simply enough, bits of knowing that they could pass of as simply knowing each other well, the silly assertion that they could read each other's minds. He'd been freaked out, a wreck, when it started at 20. He thought they'd somehow ended up drugged. Sam refused to believe that they were compacting telepathically, refused to believe it, until there had been an incident they were not allowed to talk about, some days after they'd started getting flashes that they passed off as nothing. He'd connected with her mind in a very intimate situation, to say the least, and had ended up freaking himself out as his desire had been fed back to him in a loop. He'd never actually tried to channel during sex again. It was too much.
After that, they could no longer block each other out, could no longer deny that there were somehow, telepathic, or psychic, or something. He had no idea, and Sam hated labels. It didn't work with other people and it wasn't a perfectly clear connection all of the time. It really depended on emotions, and sometimes even the weather. For example, when Sam got mad, he not only had to work through that with her, but he also had to deal with a pounding headache. It was like there was a telephone in their bodies that allowed them to literally call to each other without a second thought, that allowed them to be there with each other mentally, even when she was 1300 miles away, though the connection took more work, like a radio transmitter. It was strange. At first, they hadn't talked for days, had sworn off sex, and had retreated back to their respective corners of the world. Then, Jake had woken up with a massive headache and some kind of cold. He got a fever. It was hell.
The massive pressure in his brain only let up when he tried to reach out to Sam. A thousand built up thoughts and sensations had flooded his body, and he'd blacked out in the dining room of Three Ponies. Later, they'd figured that three days of blocking each other out was three days too long. They had built up the ability to block each other completely when they needed privacy, but it wasn't natural, and sometimes, it was downright painful. Sam saved those moments for nights out with Jen, and the occasional doctor's appointment. It was strange to feel sensations related to body parts he did not have, though to hear Sam tell it, it was worse on her end. Jake blocked her out when Darrell wanted to talk about Ally, and when Mom asked him why he wasn't married yet. Sam teased him about his mother's desire to marry them off.
The best thing they had figured out how to do was to direct the flow of the connection into small things. As Jake walked across the yard, towards the barn, he allowed his mind to send her flashes of the snow, flashes of her horses as he cared for them, allowed her to feel their bodies as he groomed them. It was the small things that kept them centered. He saw her walking into a show barn somewhere near Fargo, heard her talking with the owner of their case, and quickly interjected mentally over an idea she might have forgotten as he fed the horses. The idea he'd shared was embraced by the client when Sam added information she knew to it, and their fate was sealed. The woman 1300 miles away exclaimed, "Why, you really are a horse whisperer, Miss Forster!" Their reputations snowballed once again. Jake pulled out of the corner of her mind. He didn't like being there for too long, because then he just missed her more.
As he listened to Sam educating the handlers, he was happy, simply because he knew she'd be home soon and his soul could stop traveling astrally so much when he slept. He did not like going strange places, and Fargo was not his kind of place. He saddled up Ace, and headed out.
Porter Preston:
Jake. You two are trending for the third time this month. It's not #Sakebumpwatch or #SakeWedding but #SakeSplitsville. Anything I should know?
Jake's Private Number:
Seen, 9:09
Porter Preston: Jake? If you don't reply to your agent, I will be forced to fly myself out there and demand the next chapter of your book. I will then spend your profits on a Veyron. See if I don't.
Jake's Private Number:
I fired my agent.
Porter Preston:
Haha, it's in my contract. You can't fire me without Sam's consent, which is unlikely considering you've broken up. #SakeSplitsville?
Jake's Private Number:
#SakeForever
Porter Preston:
...
...
I knew you had a Tumblr, you liar!
Quinn found him hours later, sitting under a blanket, watching I Love Lucy. Quinn plopped down on the chair, "Should I get some chocolates, and we can talk about our wedding colors?"
Jake scowled, "Fuck off, Quinn." He paused the TV, and looked as his brother. Why did he put up with the guy, again? Why had he been the one to say, years ago, "Quinn, come work with me and Sam when we set up the business?" Why had he asked his brother to live with them? Wait. Even he wasn't that insane. That had been Mom, not him, or Quinn. Everybody in the family was really not cool with him and Sam living together in unrepentant sin, so Quinn acted as a chaperone, though the chaperoning he did was rather limited. It was mostly for appearances, Jake guessed, so that Grace could say that her little girl was living with family, and not her boyfriend, even though they had lived together since Sam came to college and graduated when he finished his master's degree.
Quinn taunted him. "Sam handles this better than you do." Yeah, of course she did, even though he only felt a tiny fraction of her physical sensations, much like she did with him, unless they were totally unguarded or totally focused. Her body was actually built for this cycle of hell. She took some sadistic delight in allowing this to happen to her body, month after month after month. She also found joy in threatening to decapitate him when he asked her if they could have a baby just so he wouldn't get PMS. It had been a weak moment after there was a baby spread about them in Country Monthly, and he regretted the idea, not because he didn't want a baby, he just didn't want one now, and not until Sam did, too. They couldn't give a baby a good life. Even Cody felt the ill effects of a well known sister.
Nothing happened to Jake except the horrible parts, the emotionality, the PMS hunger. He didn't actually have the relief of anything actually happening, because he lacked the biological side of the process. The clawing feeling of emptiness and explicit need for closeness at random hours of the day had freaked him out at first, until he realized that he was picking up on her specific desires, and was not actually having homosexual urges. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but he could not handle the idea of having a sexual identity crisis and PMS in the same week. "She doesn't even blink an eye, and you bawl like a baby." Quinn asserted, "Sure you don't want some Midol?"
Jake did not want to admit that he'd tried that. He'd done it twice, certain that it took more than one dose to work. It had just made him have to go to the bathroom, and made the headache in the back of his mind worse because he couldn't sleep. Sam had laughed until she cried, "You're trying to treat my headache?" Then, she'd gotten all teary and said he was a nice person but that Midol was just like taking a tylenol and some no-doze. Then, she'd threatened to call Jen and tell her what a nice guy he was. Quinn did not need to know that.
Jake was halfway to telling his brother off so he could watch Lucy and Ethel duke it out when a sudden image flashed in his mind.
Jake reached for the notebook next to him on the side table, and began to scribble down what he was seeing rapidly. "Sorry." He said to Quinn, who just turned on the TV and went about watching TV. Jake focused on mental images she was sending him as she lowered the boundaries between their connection completely. Sam was asking him about the case, but wasn't in a place that she could let him in without some kind of cover for any distractedness that came with, nor could she allow herself to be vulnerable. Automatic writing was faster and allowed her to act like she was taking notes, when really, they were using the pens as a medium to communicate their thoughts in front of random people. He wasn't consciously controlling the pen as it flowed over the page. Jake believed that his subconscious was at work, it was just that that part of his brain was talking to Sam, who was replying in kind.
He spent the rest of the morning working on their various cases. Quinn took off for parts unknown, probably to check on the cover crops and to ride fence. Jake planned to meet him later. They didn't keep much cattle around the place, focusing instead on the horses and on what crops they could grow to supplement and support River Bend and Three Ponies. They'd started to work towards a no-till model since they'd gotten home from college, and it was saving them water from the snow melt that they relied on each year, or at least he hoped. They were hopeful that they would be able to weather the climate with some soil health in tact, if not outright regeneration over time. He sat down to a lonely lunch, and mused, "Maybe we should get some hands around here or something." The house was so quiet, and there was no one to talk to, or look at. Still, he knew the idea of hands were but idle musings. It would be hard to trust people, even with an NDA, as the equestrian world was small.
Sam's presence in the back of his mind came forward. He could see her grabbing her own lunch in the space she'd been offered as part of her case. Jake felt empathy flood his veins. She missed him, too. She was sending him images of warmth, cuddles. It wasn't really helping, and the image he was getting of red ink pens was confusing. He didn't get what she was trying to tell him he guessed, because a second later, his phone buzzed with a text.
Sam's Private Number:
Go see Max.
He muttered, "Why didn't you just say so?" He put his hat on his head, put the dishes in the sink, and made his way home to Mama.
Seth's Number:
Heading in with the kids in a few days.
Adam's Number:
Us, too.
Kit's Number:
(Photo of sunny HI coastline)
Brian's Number:
Eat lead, Kit. We still meeting at Three Ponies? Quinn? Jake?
Jake's Number:
Yes. All set.
Kit's Number:
What about the paps?
Jake's Number:
You're deluded. We're not that well known. Shut up.
Kit's Number:
Dude, you're on the news out here. Weekly, if not daily.
Brian's Number:
There were photographers at Cody's party for God's sake.
Quinn's Number:
Nah, we'll be fine. Haven't y'all heard? #SakeSplitsville. They won't be looking for #JakeEly here as #SAFE will have kicked his sorry behind out. #CuteQuinn will have stayed behind to comfort his only sister.
Seth:
Couldn't Tumblr and Twitter do better than cute? How about #conceited?
Being at home was interesting. Three Ponies wasn't his home anymore, though he never said that to his mother, who was running around preparing for Christmas. It sucked to be alone right now. It was winter and almost Christmas. Sam should be home. She was the most confusing female he'd ever known. He couldn't imagine knowing how to communicate with her if he couldn't open up the way they did. Except, Jake thought, he couldn't say that to anyone. Only Quinn knew, and he'd promised to take their secret to the grave. No one knew. They weren't going to risk it. Still, the tension of having this huge secret from everyone weighed on them heavily. He stuck in the mashed potatoes, wishing once again that Sam was home. "Mom? Do you need help or something?"
Mom came back into the kitchen. She studied him carefully as he ate, "You look rather ill, Jake." She was always concerned that his 'fame' was going to go to his head and he'd up using drugs. She never said that to his face, but the statistics she sometimes spouted made her concerns clear. He wished that she would see him as a rancher and not as someone famous. He was not as good as his job as everyone said, and their 15 seconds of fame couldn't be over soon enough.
He swallowed, sipped his milk to assuage the burns he'd no doubt caused himself, and replied, "Nah, just a bit of a headache. I'm not sleeping well." Jake hoped that was a bland enough statement to cover the chill in his body and the vague wrongness of life.
Mom's lips pursed, "Be careful you don't say such things around your Aunt Hill." Her tone was sharp, though somehow also resigned. "She'll think she wasn't invited to the wedding."
Jake forced up a mental fog that would keep Sam out. He could ask her not to listen, but this was safer. Jake nearly groaned, "Jeez, Mom." She knew full well that there had been no wedding, and was trying to get him to admit it so she could corner it, "Kit and Cricket lived together, and I see you laying into them."
Mom snapped a bean with a vengeance. "They were engaged. It was forgivable. At least then there was some kind of formal commitment so that everyone who cared knew..." She sighed, catching his expression, "And you two, the one couple everyone knew would be just so happy, stubbornly refuse to get married."
Jake's head was pounding already. Fucking Fargo, he thought. "Mom. What do you want me to say? We're happy, we're committed to each other, what do you want?" Jake asked, "We've been together longer than some marriages."
Mom replied, crossly, "Don't remind me. Six years, Jacob, and not one move towards sharing with the world how you feel, not one step towards a family." She picked up another bean as sweat started to bead on Jake's body, "You know, Sam's going to be 24 in the spring. Jen already has two, and she's in vet school." Jake didn't think she understood how hard it was for them to have a little privacy in this world of connections, the internet, blogs. They'd agreed to just have this one thing between them, for them only. It didn't belong to anyone else.
Jake knew he was embarking on a trip down guilt lane. "God, Mom." He said, crossly, "If Sam knew you were saying this stuff, she'd be pissed." Jake tried not to let on how hard it was not to let her see this, but a guy had to have some pride.
"Why? I should think she would want what her friends all have. You're not kids in college anymore." Mom replied, "Besides, I'm telling you all of this so you get it. She's not here, is she?"
Jake released the mental block, and nearly banged his head on the table as his mind near to pulsated with images, snippets of a conversation, and feelings. He exhaled, and looked up, "Fine, Mom, fine." Jake agreed. Mom's expression brightened until he spoke, "We'll get working on that baby you want so much. It's not as if your collection of grandchildren is large enough."
Sam was distracted with travel, so she only caught a fragment of what he was saying. He said grandchildren, and warm, fuzzy, feelings bloomed within his heart, feelings that matched his own, but were far different in their orientation. Sam liked all of the nieces and nephews she was collecting. Unless he missed his guest, she'd gotten an airport postcard for Mark, who collected such things.
She spluttered, "I don't want to be fed a pack of lies!" Jake hung around on the porch for ten seconds. The screen door clattered as Mom came out and said exactly what she expected, "Though, if you two should have anything to announce this Christmas, I'll always love..." She stopped speaking when she caught sight of his expression, "Oh, just get on with you."
Jake's boots crunched in the snow as he did just that.
RoperRilez: HrseLuver1993 #SamForster is in SLC! I just saw her! She's got a vintage leather bag! #Prada? #twitpic
HorseLuver: RoperRilez: #SamForster would never wear #Prada. #JenKenworthy BF is a Brit. It's totes Burberry. #SakeFacts
Sam disembarked from the flight from Fargo to Salt Lake, and made her way through the airport. She had 36 minutes to make her way from Concourse B, Gate 3, to her flight from Salt Lake to Elko in Concourse C, Gate 12. Sam was glad that she only had her overnight bag as she hoofed it quickly through the airport, hanging a sharp left past the ticket counters, and another right into Concourse C. The crowds were maddening at midday. She'd wanted to be home by dinner, after having been away for days and days. She missed Jake. It seemed crazy to her that she could miss someone who was never mentally far away, even though he did take unnecessary pains to block her out when Max brought up marriage and babies. Max had nothing on Gram, who'd 'gifted' her with a subscription to Brides' Magazine six months ago.
Sam tucked her Lands' End leather bag that she'd found at Goodwill around her body, wishing that she hadn't racked up so many Sky Miles in the last six months on cases. She unzipped her coat and moved along, hating that her plane had landed late due to snow in Montana. Her iPod was buzzing in her ears, the only thing that was keeping her awake after an intensive period of work. She was exhausted, but was grounded from yet another success. Sam was waiting in line to board when there came a tap on her shoulder. She looked around quickly and removed her earbuds, winding them around her iPod as the teenager next to her spoke, "Oh. My. God. I thought it was you, and Marietta said it wasn't because Jake's not with you, but it is you!" The girl gushed, "I'm so happy to meet you!"
Jake chuckled inside her head. This was still new to her, and seemed insane. She was just her. There she was, standing in a line in grungy Wrangler jeans she hadn't been able to wash, and a sweater that she'd all but slept in to make her early check in time in Fargo, having this teenager gush over her like she was famous. Jake sent images of various media coverages, and she realized that, to this girl, she was a person of some regard, albeit minor. She felt like the barn rat she really was, and wished she could help the girl see beyond all of the cases and the idiot people who'd spilled their stories to make them famous. They should have thought more carefully about that case with the senator, because she may be president one day, and she had started the firestorm almost two years ago. She was glad that she had at least brushed her teeth. "Hi."
"I'm Jane." The girl replied, quickly, moving along with Sam as the line moved forward. Her luggage knocked her in the knees as she moved. "I read your column in Horse Monthly, and I read your blog, and I'm just such a huge fan. You and Jake should do a TV show on RFD." The girl suggested, and Sam figured that she would be good friends with Porter, "I would watch! I've even got a YouTube playlist for y'all." The girl stopped gushing for a second, "So, can I ask you a question?"
The airport seemed cavernous as Sam wondered how on earth she would reply if the girl asked a horse question neither she or Jake knew the answer to. That had happened the last time they were in the airport. They'd talked about flying separately, but that felt torturous. Sam nodded slowly, figuring this line was going to take forever anyway. She wished that Jake wasn't in her head when Jane asked, "So, uhm, is Jake really as cute in person?"
Sam could feel his uncomfortable blush as though she were the one blushing. Sam shook her head sadly, "No, I'm afraid not." She lowered her voice, "His feet, you know."
The question echoed in her mind even as it came from Jane's mouth. "His feet?" Jane replied, her eyebrows in her hair, "What about them?" She was talking quickly, desperate to get an answer before Sam's turn came up, fast approaching as the business people ahead of her moved along. Sam had previously thought them to be missionaries, but they weren't, she decided, upon further reflection.
"Well..." Sam said, conspiratorially, "Don't tell, but he trips all the time. It's quite funny, but it does ruin his persona, don't you think?" Jane gaped. Sam was next at the counter, so she waited for the woman ahead of her to finish.
Sam tried not to let humor show in her smile as Jane mumbled, that yes, it was quite sad. Sam was next in line, so thankfully, Jane made her way back to her group of friends after saying again how much she loved her. True to Sam's predication, Jane was pulling out her phone the second her back was turned. "There." Sam said mentally, "Now everyone knows how klutzy you are."
She gripped the strap of her bag quickly as she fumbled with her boarding pass. Jake's voice was heated and laughing, "Brat, you just told the equestrian side of Tumblr that I've got big feet."
Sam grinned as she thought of the perfect comeback as she interacted with the man at the gate, "I also told them you have no idea how to handle them."
"Damn." Jake replied, humor not at all gone from the voice in her head as she went through security, "Guess all my fan blogs are just going to go away."
"Seven blogs, oh, the internet will crumble."
Jake's Private Number:
Since you talked to Jane, I've got three new fanblogs.
Her phone buzzed again with a captioned screenshot.
Jake's Private Number:
#JakesKlutzyFeet
Sam powered off her phone easily as the flight attendant glared at her. Sam smiled and said, "Sorry." She wasn't, though, not really. She should have been though, as in their corner of the internet, #klutzyfeetrsexy and #luckysam began to take life.
FiPhilOffical: #Sake #Sakespiltsville: Inside source reveals reasons for break-up. Stay tuned for special #Sake segment tomorrow morning on Agriculture_Culture.