Thomas & January

I hated to admit it, but I knew I couldn’t lie anymore. She’d know. “Yes, January. I kissed you back.”



“I knew it,” she said, a gleam in her eye. She abruptly turned from me and walked back to the club, abandoning me to the newly discovered harsh light of the street lamp.



“She played me,” I said under my breath, shaking my head at the ground. I smiled the widest, shit-eating grin. “She played me.” Probably wrong about that innocent part.



Chapter Three



Betrayed by Bones



Thomas



A week later and I had yet remove extra space to see January since the party, which was just fine with me because the little wench had played me like a fiddle. As I was packing for Europe the next day, I heard my cell vibrate on top of my dresser. I scanned the caller ID and saw it was Jason.



“Yo,” I said, tucking the phone between my chin and shoulder and continued to pack.



“Need you to come down to the label right now.”



“Dude, are you kidding me?” I asked, grabbing the phone again. “I’m not exactly prepared for this trip.”



“Just get down here,” he said succinctly before hanging up.



I pressed end and leaned against the heavy wooden dresser, studying the phone, not sure why Jason needed me but feeling on edge at how short he’d been.



I threw on my hoodie and jacket, tucked my keys in my pocket and headed for the door. Downstairs, I hailed a taxi, worrying my lip the entire ride there. Jason was waiting on the street, smoking a cigarette when I pulled up next to him. I paid the fare and got out.



“What’s up, man?” I asked him.



“Nothing, what’s up with you?” he said, taking a last drag before putting it out with the toe of his shoe.



I nearly punched him. “Jason, you sounded like something was up. What’s going on?”



“Oh, nothing,” he laughed. “I’m just about to head out for the night, but I wanted to hear them deliver this news to you first. I was in a hurry.”



“You’re an idiot.”



“Thank you. Coming from you, that’s a slight compliment.”



“What’s going on?” I asked.



“Oh, you’re just about to get planted on your ass is all. Excited? I am,” he said, slapping his hands together and rubbing them together quickly.



“Jesus, what does that even mean, Jason?” I asked as we walked briskly to the elevator.



Inside, Jason leaned against the railing after pressing the button for the fifteenth floor. “Have fun at the party?” he asked breezily.



 I joined him on the railing on the other side of the car. “Not really,” I answered. I eyed him in the reflection of the doors. “Why do you ask?”



“Oh, no reason.”



Shit. He definitely knows something.



The doors silently fell open and I followed Jason past the receptionist’s desk, long abandoned for the evening, down the long corridor to the executives’ suites, passing the large plaques of albums gone gold and platinum on the walls. I had a hand in half the bands’ successes, which is probably the only reason they put up with me as well as paid me anything decent. A well paid scout was unheard of in this industry. And I knew it. I was nervous as hell that they were about to cut me loose, not that Jason would’ve been happy about that, which is why I was only partially nervous.



We entered the president of Seven, Peter Weathervane’s, office a moment later. His massive corner office had a cool mid-century modern feel, courtesy of wife number three. His last wife decorated in an African motif after they’d returned from Safari. Apparently his wives couldn’t leave any trace of the last, making me wonder what number four had in store for him.



“Tom,” the man said, startling me. He was hidden behind a high back office chair, facing the city below him. He turned around slowly, a subtle smile gracing his face. “I’m glad Jason got you here. Sit down,” he said, gesturing to the sleek leather chairs in front of his desk.



We both sat. “So, what’s up Mister Weathervane?”



“Please, how many times do I have to tell you, Tom? It’s Peter.”



“All right, Peter, how’ve you been?”



“I’m doing well,” he answered, standing up and walking to his bar. “Anything?” he offered. Jason and I both shook our heads. “I called you here because there’ve been some developments. Turns out, our R&D Rep (Relations and Development Representative) has decided to call it quits. I’m looking for a replacement.”



I sat up in my chair a little, swiping the palms of my hands on thighs.



“Anyway,” he continued, sitting back down with a straight whiskey, his usual. “We’re considering you for the position.”



I didn’t get too excited. He’d said “considering” and that word means a hell of a lot when Peter Weathervane says it.



“I see,” I answered. “Whom else is being considered?”



His eyes lit up a bit. “You were always quick, Tom. Jonah White.”



Of course it was Jonah White.



Jonah White had been a friendly/unfriendly rival of mine from day one. He’d been doing this gig longer and he’d been pretty damn good at it, but I learned how to do it better. He was beloved by every single person within the label though, and that’s why he was being considered as well. Plus, he knew the industry a little better than I did. He just didn’t possess the ear I did and it was only a matter of time until I passed him up, I knew it. He knew it.



“He’s good,” I said, offering nothing else.



“I know,” Peter said, goading me.



“I’m better.”



“He doesn’t seem to think so,” he laughed.



“So what’s the deciding factor?” I asked, shifting slightly.



“Europe,” he said succinctly.



“I see. I’m game if he is.”



“Already got the green light from Jonah.”



“Cool,” I said.



“Now, get out of here. I bet you haven’t even packed.”



I offered him a genuine smile and stood. I shook his hand and Jason and I left together toward the door.



“Three, two, one...” Jason said under his breath. I eyed him warily.



“Oh, and one more thing,” Peter added, before lighting up a cigar. We stopped just outside his door. “January MacLochlainn will be shadowing you.”



I knew my mouth must have hung open from the look Peter gave me, but he had shocked the hell out of me. Jason quietly shut the door behind us. I bent quickly to open the door, to assure Peter that she would not, but Jason held me back.



“Now, now,” Jason said. “Don’t be hasty. Do you really want to ruin any chance of a permanent position in a permanent city?”



I hesitated slightly but reached for the door again.



“Stop it, you idiot,” he said, pushing me toward the elevator.



We rode in silence, a ridiculous grin plastered on Jason’s face.



“What the hell is so funny?” I asked him, pissed beyond belief.



“Nothing. Like I’ve said all night, nothing.”



I tossed and turned that night, unable to sleep thinking of the fact that I was going to have to share tight quarters with the minx from Austin, enduring her hellishly beautiful face and her sharp tongue. Why did life have to be so damn complicated for me lately? She was going to make it impossible to concentrate. I didn’t want to have to train her, endure her, and fight for the position Peter was lording over my head, all the while running into Jonah at the festivals, particularly Paris’ “Windmill Music Festival,” I knew we both would immediately consider for new talent.



After a measly three hours sleep, I awoke groggily and extremely irritable. I showered, attempted to let the hot water seep away my terrible mood but it didn’t work. I dressed in my usual attire, tossed my oversized canvas duffel bag over my shoulder and headed for the train. I sat relaxed on the train, listening to my iPod and shuffled through songs but stopped short when I heard a song I’d never put in my queue. I sat up a bit and listened carefully.



Neil Sedaka’s Calendar Girl played, making me curse myself when the line “January, you start the year off fine...” rang clearly through my ears.



Damn it, Jason!



I took my cell out and began a text.



REALLY, JASON? HOW DID YOU EVEN ORCHESTRATE THAT? JUST REMEMBER, PAYBACK’S A BITCH



Five minutes later, my cell buzzed with the simple message.



HA HA HA HA HA



Jerk.



The airport was surprisingly packed for four a.m., but I still had no trouble whatsoever finding January. She stood a head taller than every woman there. She was also more beautiful than any other woman there. I approached her slowly before I noticed the equally tall asshole standing beside her. Not the mailroom guy, though. Still, jealousy burned through me with a vengeance, pissing me off even further.



“I will,” I heard her say before hugging the guy fiercely around the neck. “I love you. I’ll ring you when I get there.”



The guy kissed her cheek before leaving her through the sliding doors. Ha! A peck on the cheek! Sucker!



That’s when she noticed me and she checked her glassy eyes. She stood taller, her back erect, and followed me with cold, hard eyes.



“Tom,” she gritted, the word polluted with hate. I involuntarily cringed.



“January,” I said politely, trying desperately not to rock the boat.



We stood in line to retrieve our tickets.



“Are you two together?” The attendant at the end of the line asked us.



“No,” January said with conviction just as I said, “Yes.” I eyed her harshly. This would go a lot easier if she chilled.



“Just step up to one of the unmanned kiosks,” the guy said.



I did and to my absolute shock, January followed. I ran my driver’s license through the machine, answered a few stupid questions, and retrieved my boarding pass. I checked my bag and stood aside for January to do the same. She did but with absolutely no word spoken to me.



We walked in silence through security and all the way to the plane and sat on opposite sides of our gate’s seating area. I watched as she worried her lip, flipped through a magazine, and returned a few texts. No doubt to that asshole I saw outside.



Watching her full mouth brought me back to that night at Stubb’s, the feel of her hands threading through my hair, the taste of her lips against my tongue. I cautiously licked my lips as if I could still taste her. She drove me crazy in so many freaking ways.



I’d kissed a lot of girls in my life. Hundreds probably. It was the perk of being in a band. It wasn’t until Kelly that I realized I didn’t want that life anymore. At twenty-two, I’d admittedly grown old, a lifetime of experiences fulfilled by a sensory overloaded New York City. I was looking for something substantial by then, until she killed that dream for me by agreeing to marry someone else. Sure, I was over her and that still shocked me, but I realized something after Kelly, no one was worth feeling like shit for...not like that, ever. I’d resigned myself to loner-hood long before I’d met the kitten fiddling with the necklaces choking her throat. Damn January MacLochlainn and her intriguing face.

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