Thomas & January, Book Two in the Sleepless Series

by Amelie, Fisher

  “Thank you, Tom. That’s very kind of you to say.”

  “It’s not kind, it’s the truth. Come on,” I said, wrapping her underneath my arm as we headed for the Tube toward London’s Soho district.

  We were headed for Ronnie Scott’s. That’s where The Mark were scheduled to play first at ten. Seven didn’t dictate who we watched or even when or where, but if they made a suggestion, I was going to accommodate, especially if Jonah could be there. Which reminded me.

  “If Jonah’s there, we have to play it cool with this,” I said, lifting her hand in mine.

  “Okay,” she said, a bit hurt.

  “It’s not because I don’t want to shout about it and shit. It’s because if Jonah found out, word would get out and you could jeopardize solidifying a position as a scout, January. I would feel awful if that happened.”

  “Oh, okay.” She said, still sounding disappointed.

  “Hey,” I said, pulling her short. I placed my hands on either side of her neck to drive the point home. “I swear, January, I’m so into you it’s not even funny. I just can’t compromise you like that. You’re obviously going to earn scout by your own merit, but if anyone at Seven thinks it’s because we’ve gotten together, no one will take you seriously. I just can’t have that. You’re too good for that.”

  Her eyes crinkled in a smile. “And what is ‘this’?”

  “Huh?”

  “You said we had to play it cool with ‘this.’ What is ‘this,’ Tom?”

  “It’s the beginning, January.”

  “Of what?” she asked me seriously.

  “We’ll have all the time in the world to talk about that. It’s too deep to get into it right now but know this, I’m tired of pretending. So weary of it. I forgot myself when I lost who I thought Kelly was to me, but you’ve shown me what I think, no, I know no one else could have shown me.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “That I don’t want to be lost anymore. I - I want you.”

  She kissed me then and my tongue found hers. She smacked of innocence and saccharinelike want. Two of the most appetizing flavors I’d ever tasted and knew I’d never get enough of. January was who I wanted and I’d realized in that moment that she eclipsed Kelly with the power of a thousand suns. Thank God for unanswered prayers.

  I dragged her with me through Ronnie Scott’s door and squeezed her hand before letting go. We both searched the crowd for Jonah but didn’t see him.

  “He’s not here,” she said.

  “Who’s not?” A deep timbre asked her. I fought with myself not to tuck January into my side.

  “Jonah,” I said, turning around and offering my hand.

  “Tom,” he said, shaking the hand I’d offered. “January!” He exclaimed dropping my hand like it was diseased and picking January up, swinging her around. “It’s been so long, sweet.”

  “Jonah,” January acknowledged with a wry smile, pushing herself off his chest. “Stop showing off. I just saw you in New York last week.”

  Jonah set her down and I resisted the urge to punch him in the face. He can’t cross a boundary he doesn’t know exists. “I’m sorry. Eight days is too long when it comes to your face,” he laid on thickly, grabbing her jaw with one hand and rubbing his thumb across her cheek. January rolled her eyes but laughed.

  “Shall we lay it all out?” Jonah asked us both.

  “Go on,” I said, folding my arms across my chest.

  “I’m gonna win,” he said, smiling.

  I laughed quietly and shook my head. “No, you won’t.”

  “We’ll see,” he said, slapping me on the back as if it was all in good fun.

  He kissed January’s cheek and lifted two fingers above his head as he walked away.

  “I’m really starting to hate that guy,” I admitted.

  “I like Jonah. I really do, but he can do some douchey things. I’m just warning you.”

  “What?” I asked, turning to face her.

  “Seriously. I heard he was doing some sketchy things when it came to bands.”

  “Well, like what?”

  She raised her hands in the air as if in surrender. “Listen, I don’t want to start shit, but I heard he was paying an insider at Seven under the table to find out where you would be scouting. Again!” She said, grabbing my shoulder. “I really don’t want to start anything. I just think we should be careful.”

  “Damn it!” I exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

  “Don’t shoot the messenger, dude! Plus, I thought it would’ve been obvious to you since he’s at almost every show you’re at.”

  “Dude, I knew that was too much a coincidence. I gave him the benefit of the doubt.”

  “For someone being so cynical in love, you sure are naive about life.”

  “Shut it, MacLochlainn.”

  January laughed. “Zipping it.”

  While the first band set up, January and I took a seat at the bar together. People milled in and around us but we ignored them.

  “What’ll you have?” the bartender asked us.

  “Strawberry mojito,” January said without any prompt from me.

  “Whatever you have on tap,” I said.

  The bartender nodded and left to make our drinks.

  “Strawberry mojito?” I asked, trying not to laugh.

  “Shut up, Eriksson. All the girls at work rant and rave about strawberry mojitos and I found myself in a situation where I can try one. I’m a newbie. Cut me some slack.”

  “All right, all right. I hope you like it.”

  “Thank you,” she said, bowing her head.

  We both turned around in our stools to face the crowd and the stage. I placed my hand on her knee absently to lean into her ear.

  “Careful,” January teased before I could speak. “If Jonah sees this he could read into it.”

  “Sorry,” I said, lifting my hand but kept my mouth at her ear. “Can you see him?” I asked her, changing direction.

  She turned her head to the left slightly then the right. “No, he’s chatting up some broad with huge boobs. Totally immersed. In conversation, not her boobs,” she said, clarifying.

  I laughed in her ear, sending goose bumps up her neck. “I forgot what I was going to say now. You can’t be funny when I’m trying to be sexy with you.”

  “Don’t you know?” she asked me, her throat vibrating as she laughed. “Funny is sexy.”

  “Of course, everyone knows that, but I’m the one who’s trying to be sexy. You can’t over-sexy me. You’re outdoing my attempt at sexy. It’s not fair.”

  “I apologize,” she teased, leaning into me, but keeping an eye on Jonah. “Try, try again.”

  “January.” I repeated her name because nothing had ever felt better to say, especially in that moment.

  I trailed my lips down the back of her neck, inciting a shiver. I placed one slow, soft kiss on the spot where my lips lingered and sat back up. January’s eyes closed briefly and she pitched forward slightly sending a strange sensation of approval up my spine at the way I affected her. I fixed my posture and looked toward the stage area as the band was readying to play.

  “They’re on,” I told her, glancing Jonah’s direction. His eyes searched the crowd before stopping at us. He lazily saluted me in acknowledgment before focusing back on the band.

  “That’s right, ya’ bastard. You smile now,” I told him under my breath.

  Ronnie Scott’s was a fairly intimate venue, suited best for acoustic sets. What I hoped was that the band we were about to see was better plugged in than out and that Jonah wouldn’t be able to see this.

  “Watch for it,” I told January.

  “For what?”

  “When The Mark starts to play, listen to their acoustic set and let me know if you can imagine their set i
n full instruments. It will always be different. Our job is to decipher whether this band can handle full-fledged or if they’re strictly acoustic. Occasionally, I’ll have to ask to see them again. It’s why I avoid acoustic sets like the plague.”

  “Oh, I see. Okay, I’ll try that. Why do you avoid acoustic sets?”

  “Because live gigs with ten thousand people don’t sound that great when your instrument can’t reach them.”

  “’Kay.”

  “We have an advantage because we’re already familiar with them. Ten to one, so is Jonah.”

  From the first strum, I’d had The Mark, well, marked and by the look on January’s face, so did she.

  “Caged,” she said, repeating her first diagnosis.

  “Exactly,” I agreed. “Shall we? There are a few bands playing at The Garage.”

  “Cool.”

  We waved at Jonah on our way out. He politely waved back but the look of bewilderment was enough to send us both over the edge when we reached the path outside.

  “He looked so confused,” January said into her hand.

  “Like a lost puppy, that Jonah.”

  “He should really do his own research,” she offered by way of explanation.

  “No, when he did that, he picked wrong. That’s why he cheats.”

  “Where’s The Garage?” she hedged.

  “A good twenty minutes that direction by way of the Tube.” I pointed northeast. “But it’s worth it. Lots of good bands playing tonight.”

  “How do you know?” she asked.

  “I arranged it.”

  “What?” she asked, eyes wide.

  “I phoned the manager of the place, told him who I was, well, I may have fabricated my exact position with Seven, but it was all for prosperity mind you, and I got him to book four bands I’ve been dying to hear from the area.”

  “You’re pulling my leg!”

  “No, I’m definitely not.” My hands would tremble anywhere near her legs.

  “That’s amazing! Why’d we even bother at Ronnie Scott’s?”

  “Ah, that reason is twofold. You see, Jonah needed to know we were here and that we were only attending The Mark’s performance to appease the label and that we had better things hidden up our sleeves.”

  “That’s three reasons.”

  “No, I lumped the last two in as one.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, lead the way, my diabolical master.”

  “This way,” I told her. “Next week’s lesson? How to execute a fiendish cackle while drumming the fingers.”

  “Will I need any supplies for the lesson?”

  “No, just be sure to rest your voice the night before.”

  “Done.”

  The Garage was packed beyond belief and I wondered if Jonah was going to show up after all, seeming as it must have been advertised well or perhaps it was word of mouth. I was hoping the latter.

  Performances:

  Georgia Asher - Unique in her songs and performance. Highly entertaining.

  Influences: Janelle Monae, Fun.

  My take: Great musician, contract immediately.

  January’s take: “Awesome musician, contract immediately.”

  One Lump Or Two - No Doubt rip off. Great live performance.

  My take: No way.

  January’s take: “Sorry, two thumbs down.”

  Compass - Strange instrumentals. Live performance lacking.

  My take: Could be good if they added a few more traditional pieces.

  January’s take: “No way, Jose.”

  Let Them Eat Cake - Female vocalist. An actual decent female vocalist. Possibility of going commercial.

  My take: Yeah, they could clean up their sound and go commercial, but they’re so damn good why bother? Suppose we should let them decide.

  January’s take. “Tom, if you have Jason offer it to them, let them know they probably won’t sound the same. Plus, there’s no guarantee they’ll be accepted commercially still.”

  “If they went commercial, January, they would be accepted and well.”

  “I disagree.”

  “I know a little of what I’m talking about. They’d be a massive hit.”

  “You’re going to poison the one thing that gives them their edge, though.”

  “I’m not so sure. I think it can transcend. Only time will tell.”

  “Fine. Call Jason. Ruin them,” she joked with a smile.

  “Do you even remember who signs your paychecks?” I teased.

  “Shit. I forgot that for a second. Yes, call Jason but let him know that he needs to replace their keyboardist.”

  “Really?” I asked her. “Why?”

  “Because he’s terrible,” she said, laughing.

  “Egad. I couldn’t tell from their set. Well, I suppose that instrument is your forte. You would know.”

  “Thomas Eriksson is conceding a point? Just a moment.” She picked up an imaginary cell. “Yes. Oh, it has? Well then, I see.” She hung up. “It’s official, hell’s frozen over.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m a reasonable person,” I told her as we headed toward the Tube.

  “Oh, yes, extremely reasonable. You forget you treated me like crap the first time we met,” she admitted, the teasing leaving her tone.

  “That’s not fair, January. I apologized for that already.”

  “Sure,” she smirked disbelievingly with a twist at her lips.

  “Hey,” I said softly, turning her toward me. “I don’t think you understand what was going on with me.”

  “I knew what happened. I’m just saying I find it utter bull that you used that as an excuse to shit on everyone around you.”

  “January, I don’t think you understand what you do to me.”

  “Explain it.”

  “Let’s get to the hotel first. It’s cold and late and I want you safe.”

  We traveled in silence, all the way to our hotel, I still wrapped my arm around her shoulder and she didn’t shrug it off which made me think she just wanted to work through what was going on. I understood it. I was a confusing bastard. One minute, I was a complete asshole, the next I was practically confessing an undying infatuation. Emotional whiplash.

  The ride up the elevator stirred the heat I’d let go dormant. The memory of how her soft flesh felt pressed to mine sent waves of pleasure up my spine. I glanced her direction and her eyes were as dark as mine with the same recollection.

  “No,” I laughed. “Don’t look at me like that, January. This is hard enough without you looking like a bowl of ice cream.”

  “I’ve a spoon, Tom.”

  “Shut up. Seriously, I’m not joking. I need to get this off my chest. I need parameters.”

  “Parameters? Attraction doesn’t have parameters.”

  “No, attraction doesn’t but potential does.”

  That shut her right up and I nearly laughed at her wide-eyed expression. I let us into the room and we kind of roamed around, pretending to do things, avoiding the inevitable conversation. Finally, I sat on the side of one of the beds and slid to the carpet below. She followed suit and sat opposite me on the floor, our legs touching. I fiddled with the zipper of my hoodie, afraid to look her way. Jeez, dude, grow a pair and talk to her.

  “January,” I began, looking directly in her eyes. “I’ve never regretted anything so much as the way I treated you the night we first kissed.” She was smiling at first but sucked in a breath at my proclamation. “I was, is, really, in a strange place. My chest ached perpetually and I unfairly and immaturely took that out on everyone I met, especially you.

  “When we met, I was six months into a self-inflicted prison sentence.”

  “What happened?” she asked timidly.

  I breathed deeply, leaning my head on the side of the bed. “There was a girl. Kelly. She�
��d been a part of our group for years and years. We were best friends but I never looked at her that way. I mean, sure, she was hot as hell, but Kelly wasn’t someone I wanted to touch. She was Kelly. Get me?” I asked her.

  She nodded gingerly.

  “I was in a band and that meant all that it implies. I dated hundreds of girls. Kissed thousands. Did...other things.” I ran my hands over my face at the confession. “I’m not proud of who I was. I was young and stupid.” I peered her direction, her face held only anticipation. “Not exactly the best excuse, I know, but I thought I was doing everything right, getting tested regularly, being careful, blah, blah, blah, but a year and a half ago, I couldn’t pretend anymore that it was at all fulfilling.” I ran my hand through my hair, tucking the strands behind my ears. “I was disgusted with myself, to be honest. I’d seen everything that world could offer and I was only twenty-two. Suddenly, it was like a switch flipped and I saw Kelly for the real woman she was and my God was I ever in love with her.”

  January’s chest panted, her face flushed and her eyes glassed, making me feel terrible. I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but she needed to know why I was the way I’d become...I wasn’t finished.

  “Wait, January,” I told her, grabbing her hand.

  “I’m listening,” she choked.

  “But I was too late. She met and became engaged to someone else.”

  “Oh dear,” January said, confusing me. I squeezed her hand to let me finish.

  “And I hated every fiber of his being. He was wealthy, connected, educated, and, unfortunately, sincerely in love with her in return. It ate at me. At first, I’d indulged in women but that proved useless. My ache only got deeper. I was thoroughly ashamed of myself because I’d begun to subtly infiltrate their relationship, demanding she see films and go to restaurants with me. I figured, hell, she wasn’t married yet, she was fair game, but even I knew how wrong that was. It was all under the pretense of friendship. I was being dishonest with her.

  “When her fiancé called our little meetings off for us, that’s when I fled to Austin.”

  “And that’s where you met me.”

  “That’s when I met you.”

  “I see now,” she said sadly.