Thomas & January
Page 8

When we exited the plane, January let me shoulder her carry-on without so much as a peep. I followed her up the Jetway out into the airport.
“Have you been to Ireland before?” I asked, my attempt at peace yet again.
She looked at me warily before deciding to answer. “The only places I’ve ever been are New Jersey where Grams lives and Austin. We’d visit New York City every now and then growing up, but that’s about it. How about you?”
“I’ve traveled some,” I answered vaguely.
We approached the customs counter and answered their questions.
“Where?” She pressed as we exited the main part of the airport and headed toward the luggage carousel. I held the door for her.
“Japan and all over Europe.”
“Wow, when was this?” she asked, well aware as I was of this white flag moment.
“I was in a band before I joined Seven.”
“No kidding. Who? Would I have heard of y’all?”
“I doubt it,” I smirked as we came to a still before the empty revolving carousel. “We were called The Ivories.”
Her mouth dropped open and she blinked lazily.
“What?” I asked.
“No, you weren’t.”
“Okay, I wasn’t.”
“Shut the hell up! You were not part of The Ivories.”
“I was,” I laughed.
She cleared her throat and her face burnt a bright red. I got it just then. Her face would always betray her. I tried not to do a little dance at that new development. “You guys were, uh,” she swallowed, her face burning even brighter. She gently stamped her foot in frustration at the giveaway. “Amazing,” she finished. “Really,” she said, turning my way and looking me dead in the face. “I seriously loved the hell out of your music. I was so disappointed when I heard you disbanded.”
She shocked me at that profession. “How did you even know about us?” I asked in disbelief.
A smile turned up at the corner of her mouth before she looked away then at the ground. “I made it my job to know good music, Tom. It’s why I’m here...with you.”
She made me smile but I turned away so she couldn’t see.
The revolving carousel was now full of suitcases but we hadn’t been paying attention.
“Let me know which one’s yours,” I gently commanded.
“All right,” she conceded easily.
My duffel came into view and I reached to grab it, tossing it near our feet.
“That one,” she said, pointing to another canvas duffel almost identical to mine but in a paler shade of green.
“Cool,” I said.
An unguarded smile spread across her beautiful face and my hand slid slowly to my chest as a crackling feeling set deep within began to pop and shiver, another icy layer melting away.
 January was like the freaking sun.
Chapter Four
Kiss With a Fist
Thomas
The label had a car waiting for us courtesy of a driver carrying one of those absurd signs with our names on it. Overkill. There was no one else around, but the guy held the sign up as we approached him like his job depended on it.
“Mister Eriksson?” A boy probably not much older than January dressed in a black suit asked in the thickest Irish brogue I’d ever heard.
“Yeah,” I answered.
“Hi!” January exclaimed jauntily, reminding me she was definitely from Texas. She stuck her hand out, surprising the boy. “So nice to meet you!” she added.
The boy’s face turned from surprised to exceedingly pleased as he drank her body in. He shook her hand vigorously. “A pleasure, miss. Here, let me,” he said, dropping her hand and grabbing her bag.
I narrowly avoided a facepalm. Bug to a zapper.
“They’re so nice here,” she said to me under her breath as the boy led us to the car.
“Yeah, that’s why he’s being so nice,” I said, but she didn’t catch the sarcasm.
The boy-driver opened the back door to a black Mercedes. I didn’t have the heart to tell January that this was the last decent piece of transportation she was going to see on our entire scouting adventure. She slid in and placed her hand on the back of the front seat ahead of her, her grip nervous. I slid in beside her as the driver placed our bags in the backseat.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said, her face contorting oddly as she forced a smile. Terrible liar.
The driver got in on the right side of the vehicle throwing me off for a moment.
“Uh, about how long to our hotel?” she asked the driver.
“I’ve been told to take you to Dublin HQ. Is that all right, miss?”
“Um, sure, of course. About how long?” she asked.
I almost laughed as I turned my body slightly toward hers and took in her awkward body language.
“Right ’bout twenty minutes usually, Miss. But there’s likely traffic on the M50 ’bout this time ‘a day. I’d guess we’d arrive closer to half past, miss.”
“Oh, okay,” she said, wringing her hands. “Can I-Could I sit up there with you then?”
The boy looked at me briefly but his eyes lit up when they hit January’s hopeful glance. “All yours, miss.”
January floored me when she grabbed her bag and left me in the backseat on my own. I’m ashamed to say my mouth gaped. I was flabbergasted at the little minx.
“Thank you,” she said, settling in beside him.
“No problems, miss.” He smiled at her and I stifled the urge to knock his block off.
January rummaged through her purse as the boy pulled out of the airport and onto the M1. She pulled out a bag of ginger candies and offered me one.
I waved it away with one hand. “No, thank you,” I said, still staring at her.
“Would you like one...I’m sorry, I never asked your name.”
“Ailin, miss.”
“January,” she offered, smiling. “Would you like a piece of candy, Ailin?”
“Thank you, miss. I’d love one.”
I sat stock-still when her hand reached over and handed Ailin a paper-wrapped ginger candy. My hand practically crushed the iPod I was holding when his fingers grazed hers. She turned her attention back to the sights around her but Ailin was having trouble paying attention to the road.
“Oy!” I said, startling Ailin back to the present. “Is this all you do for Seven?” I asked him through the rearview. His eyes met mine briefly and with a silent, cold, hard expression, I told him to let January go because, well, because I wanted him to.
“No, sir,” he answered. “I’m a bit of a gofer for them, really.”
“Me too!” January exclaimed, turning back to Ailin.
“Really?” he asked excitedly before meeting my eyes again, swallowing hard. “Really?” he asked again but with less enthusiasm.
“Yeah,” January answered. “At first, I only fetched coffee and that sort of crap, but with time, they gave me a few more responsibilities and were impressed. It’s why I’ve been given the chance to become an apprentice of sorts with Tom here,” she said, glancing back my way.
That and Jason thought it would be a fun game to throw us together, I thought.
“Anyway, don’t give up,” she said, patting his free hand, making me red in the face. Calm down, Thomas! “It’ll pay off.” She smiled warmly.
“Thank you,” he said, slipping his hand from underneath hers. She frowned but didn’t think more of it. Ailin’s eyes met mine and I nodded.
We met all the necessary people at Seven, before Ailin drove us to the inn the label had set us up in. January sat up front again, inadvertently pissing me off.
“We should go out tonight,” January said, surprising me.
“Seriously?” I asked her.
“Yeah,” she continued, stepping around the front of the car to stand in front of me while Ailin unloaded our duffels. She looked up into my face and that’s when I saw it. Innocence. She was going to kill me, I just knew it. “Ailin said a couple of his pals are going to Temple Bar tonight if we’d like to join them.”
“Did he?” I asked her, eyeing Ailin as he hurriedly shuffled our bags inside without so much as a glance my way. “He included me in this invitation?” I asked, turning back her way.
She furrowed her brows as if what I’d asked was ludicrous. “Of course you’re invited, Tom. I think it was mostly for you, anyway, and I was just included as a top off.”
Sure. Zap. Zap.
“Yeah, Temple Bar is a blast,” I admitted. “We can fish around for a few little bands as well, if you want.”
“Oh, hell yeah! What a good idea.”
I let January lead me into Anchor House, the inn the label had set us up in. It was charming, like most places in Dublin, and was just a short walk to Temple Bar, which would work out nicely for us. January was situated in the room directly across from mine and we each had a private bath, which was practically unheard of in little inns like these, but I was grateful because I wanted January’s first night abroad to be a comfortable one. Why do you even care?
We agreed to meet at nine o’clock downstairs and would walk to Oliver St. John Gogarty’s because Ailin wanted January to visit somewhere authentic for her first night. I kid you not, those were his exact words. He seemed pretty smug when all was said and done, but when I "accidentally" intercepted his hug goodbye to January, he seemed to get my message clearly, not that that would stop him, cheeky bastard. Didn’t matter, I liked competition. I mean, not competition. I meant that - I just - you see - I didn’t think it was a good idea for either one of us to get involved with people when we’re supposed to be doing a job.
At six, I decided that I’d rather go run than eat because it’d been more than twenty-four hours since my last run and I was jonesing bad. I threw my garb on, a pair of Adidas track pants and a t-shirt, and went downstairs. Outside, I began to stretch against the railing.
The door opened, but I was too involved in my stuff to pay attention. That is, until I caught the whiff of January’s perfume.
“Hey,” she said, looking confused. Her eyes raked up and down my body. For some reason, this made me self-conscious. I’m assuming because she hadn’t seen me in anything other than baggy jeans and heavy hoodies but I’m not sure why I gave a shit. “I didn’t know you were a runner.”
I took in her jogging outfit and thought the same. “Neither did I. You - that is, I meant to say, I didn’t know you ran.” Smooth. Very smooth.
“Mind if I join you?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said, but amended, “but I don’t talk when I run. That’s when I listen to a lot of new music, actually.”
“Same here,” she said, holding up her iPod. This girl was all surprises.
Without another word, we began our jog. Since I’d been in Dublin before, for several weeks actually when I traveled with The Ivories (we’d had a crazy following here for some reason) and I was familiar with the strange cobblestone streets, I signaled for January to follow me. We jogged the River Liffey past Temple Bar for approximately two miles before crossing the bridge over the river and jogging Liffey the way back to Anchor House. The buildings were a pretty mix of old and new architecture. It fit Dublin so well. A city of old, cherished tradition but the people weren’t afraid of progress either. God, I loved Ireland. The last half-mile or so, I slowed down some to slow our heart rates. I was extremely impressed that January could keep up with me. It certainly explained the shape her legs were in. I’d yet to really see them, since it was dark at The Bowery, but their long, lean shapes definitely couldn’t be hidden by the pair of jeans she’d been wearing the night we’d kissed. I’d noticed. I hated that I did but, all the same, I did.