Thomas & January

“Well, the first band’s been signed before to an independent label called Red Flag. Familiar?”



“Yeah, they’ve got Hope Nesting and Katie Butler. They’ve got the right idea, but they’re just starting out. Why’d they leave Red Flag?”



“Differences in opinion. Probably in the studio. The problem I see is that they’re good, but not good enough for Seven. I mean, I can see that they might have potential but...”



“But why invest when I can name ten bands off the top of my head that need no conditioning? Who are ready to market immediately with slight finessing?”



“Exactly.”



“What’s their name?”



“The Mark.”



“Know ’em,” I said.



“Really?” He asked, obviously surprised. “And what’s your opinion?”



“Honestly? They’re a Caged ripoff, and I hate to say it but Caged is on the down and out. Kaput.”



“Exactly!” He nearly yelled, making me jump. I was so unused to him raising his decibel level above "I’m cool," that if I’d been standing, I’d have fallen over, like one of those ridiculous stunned goats. “Exactly,” he repeated but softer.



“All right,” I said, feeling bolstered by his almost-praise. “What about the rest?”



“Okay, uh, trying to remember.” He drummed his talented fingers on the steering wheel. “Oh, yeah, ever heard of London-based...”



The car spit and sputtered and completely broke down. Tom pulled it over, removing the keys from the ignition.



 I expected him to curse, lose his temper, yell, something, but he didn’t. “Well, that sucks,” he simply said. He was as calm as I’d ever seen him and that impressed me.



“What are we going to do?” I asked. It was October. The sun was destined to set in another hour. In fact, the sky was a deep pink and orange, the beautiful precursor to night.



“We find a phone,” he said, getting out. “Knew I should have gotten a cell in Ireland. Oh well. All right,” he said, peering behind us. “There’s nothing behind us for miles. We march onward.”



I followed Tom for a few yards, wishing to all that was holy I’d just put on my thicker coat. I hadn’t expected it to get so flipping cold so fast but England winters, it seemed, were much harsher than I was accustomed to, being born and bred in Texas. My fingers were freezing and my nose felt like it was on fire. I was willing to bet that wasn’t a good sign.



As we walked side by side, Tom didn’t say a word, too deep in thought, but he was definitely paying attention because out of nowhere, he slid off his big leather jacket and wrapped it around my torso, squeezing it around me.



“I can’t take your coat, Tom.”



“You can and you will,” he said. “I’ve got this thick hoodie.”



Since asking for permission was out, I decided to act first, apologize later. I huddled up next to him and wrapped my arms around his waist. I closed my eyes briefly, waiting for the rejection I was sure would come, but he only wrapped himself around me as well and we walked nestled together toward the glowing lights of a petrol station.



It was small, only two pumps, but they had a store inside and we were both excited about that because we hauled ass a few feet from the entrance. When the door slid open, warm air engulfed us.



“Thank God,” I said, making Tom laugh.



“Anyone home?” Tom called out to the empty store, pulling away from our embrace. I’m not gonna lie, I felt a little devastated that our hug was over, but we had a job to do and we needed a phone.



I peeked around doors, even knocked on the restroom stalls, but no one seemed to be around.



“That’s odd,” Tom said circling around. “There’s no payphone. Besides that, I’ve got no money but American.”



I looked around and behind the register and noticed the phone was setting on a small area behind that. “Should we just use it anyway? What time is that first show?”



“Ten. I think if we can just get the rental company to come replace the car, we’d be able to make it. We’re only an hour outside London.”



“All right,” I agreed. I leaned over the register and picked up the phone just as the store employee came rounding a bend we hadn’t seen.



“Oy! What ya’ doin’!”



“Nothing!” I said. “We just needed to borrow your phone. We’re stranded about a mile that way.” I pointed down the road but it did no good.



“Stay right there!” He yelled to Tom as he grabbed my wrist hard.



“Sir! Please! You don’t understand, we just needed to borrow your phone,” I said.



Tom came at my side, huge and intimidating and the guy dropped my wrist. “We meant no harm,” he said, but the guy had already grabbed the phone from me and dialed the police.



“Yes, I’ve two thieves at...Yes, that’s it. That’s it.” He hung up. “Stay put, you two! ” We stood there, determined to clear up the misunderstanding. Tom crossed his arms over his chest. I could tell he was holding back. The veins in his arm pulsated and his neck strained with the tension. “Just stay put!” The novice detective said.



“We’re here, aren’t we?” Tom asked, losing patience. “If we were truly thieves, why would we be standing here? Are you purposely being obtuse?”



The man said nothing, just shifted from foot to foot waiting for his "rescuers."



“Should we just leave?” I asked.



“Nah, they’ll just put out a search for us and we did nothing wrong, why should we run? Plus, our getaway car is done.”



“Good point.”



Ten minutes later, two policemen walked through the door and braced themselves at the entrance.



“Henry,” one of the coppers said, but it sounded more like, ’Enry.



“I caught these two Yanks stealin’.”



“Oh my God!” I said, throwing my hands into the air. “For the last time, we were not stealing! When you came in, I was holding the phone!”



“Just a moment, miss,” Officer Two said. “Go on, Henry. Tell us what happened.”



“I come ’round ’ere,” he said, pointing to the impossible corner he emerged from, “ an’ this one was attemptin’ the register!”



Tom started to laugh. “Haven’t you any cameras? You can see for yourself. We were not stealing.”



“All right,” the first cop said, “what were ya’ doin’ ’hind there anyhow?”



“She told you correctly,” Tom explained. “Our car stalled a mile or so down the interstate there and we were looking for a phone. We came in, looked around for someone to ask since there’s no payphone and no one was here. We have to be in London by ten tonight and needed to call the rental company. That’s when we saw a phone just behind the counter. Granted, it wasn’t the smartest idea we’d ever had, but it’s the truth nonetheless. Here,” he said, pulling out the rental agreement. “You can check down the road, there should be a small car parked on the shoulder. I brought the contract to answer any questions they’d have.”



“Sounds reasonable,” Officer One said. “David, run down an’ see this car.”



“Right.”



Officer Two, David, left the store and left the parking lot to spy it out.



“You’re thieves,” the employee said, but he was losing steam because his once defiant chin now sagged near his chest.



“Are not,” I said.



“Are too,” he spit back.



“Are not!” I said.



“January,” Tom said, looking at me like I was the biggest idiot, shrugging his shoulders in question.



I shrank into myself at the immaturity of it, but I couldn’t help it! The guy was getting on my last nerve!



Officer David came waltzing back in, a pair of handcuffs dangling from his hand. “None of it, chap. There’s no car there.”



My mouth dropped to my own chest this time. “Not possible!” I exclaimed.



Tom, cool as a cucumber, said, “Then I’d like to report a stolen vehicle.”



“Come then,” Officer One said, gesturing to Officer David. “You too, miss. You’re both comin’ with me.”



All I could do was watch Tom, desperation seeping from every pore I owned. “Tom?”



“Just do as they ask, January. We’ll get this all straightened out.”



“Oh God! My mother is going to kill me. She always dreamed of my first arrest but theft isn’t exactly the charge she’d imagined.”



“Stop being so dramatic. This is a simple misunderstanding.” Tom thought for a moment. “What kind of charge would she have preferred?”



“Oh, I don’t know. Probably something like unlawful protesting or resisting arrest?”



“You can still accomplish resisting arrest.”



“Awfully odd for thieves, ain’t they?” Officer One asked David.



“Yanks are an unusual lot, they are,” David responded.



Officer One handcuffed me and David cuffed Tom.



Agh! Our duffels! “Tom! All our stuff!”



“Don’t worry about it. Jason will take care of us.”



They stuck us in the back of their police car and I was forced to lean a bit into Tom at the awkwardness of our positions. “You’re just too big,” I told him. “My God, we’re both too tall for this thing.” Our faces were pressed so close together, I could have counted the hairs on his head.



“Maybe we should’ve ran,” he joked, his warm breath a caress on my ear. I involuntarily shivered.



“To where?” I asked, shaking off the tension of the proximity. “An invisible car?”



We both started laughing at the ludicrousness of our situation. Tom looked at me just then, really looked at me for the first time without guarded eyes.



“You’re beautiful, January,” he told me.



My eyes widened and my jaw went slack. “Is that a compliment from you, Eriksson?”



“I should have told you that first night in Austin.”



“Why didn’t you?” I asked in a whisper, not believing where this conversation was headed.



“I was a dumbass.”



“Really, tell me, Tom. There’s something going on with you. Jason told me you used to be this carefree, funny guy. Then it was like a switch went off, he said, and you became this, and I quote, ‘hulking beast who hates the world.’”



“He’s an idiot,” he said, but his grin negated the statement.



“No, he’s not. He cares for you.”



“Yeah, yeah,” he said, meeting my eyes once more. Our breaths came out in billowy clouds. “Wish they’d turn the car on. Are you cold?” he asked.



“Freezing, but it’s not like you can warm me up,” I said, without thinking.



I caught the surprise in his eyes and my face and neck heated up to its usual unnatural red. “Oh, I could warm you up,” he answered, shocking the hell out of me.