Thomas & January (11 page)

Chapter Six

El Scorcho

January
             
Our tiny car proved advantageous for "Operation Disarm Tom." He kept glancing my way, his arm bumping mine, his shoulder grazing mine, his fingers brushing mine. Problem? Uh, it was slightly backfiring! I kept fantasizing he’d veer off the road and onto the shoulder and kiss the tar out of me.
              “Tom,” I said, gulping down the tension permeating throughout the car.
              “Mmm, hmm,” he said, his knuckles white.
              “Can we pull over?”
              “Why?” he asked, his eyes wide. “Feeling sick?”
              I was sick—just not from motion sickness. “Uh, yeah.”
              Tom pulled over and I struggled with my belt, bolting from the car. I discovered we were on top of the most gorgeous rolling hill, its green sweeping layers screamed beautiful things as the wind swooped around the feet and back to the heads of each mounded hill.
Wales.

It was one of the most breathtaking countrysides I’d ever had the pleasure of witnessing. A quaint little town was nestled at the bed of the hill below and it looked like what I’d envisioned a village two hundred years ago would look like, like time had stood still. The only things that gave away progress were the little cars winding the charming streets.

              I was breathing hard from the proximity of Tom and the overwhelming view below me. Tom came and stood beside me, brushing a few strands that had strayed from my loose braid from my shoulder.

“You okay?”

I looked up at him. “Um, yeah. Much better. Thank you for pulling over.”

“Of course,” he said, moving to see the view I’d just admired. “Wow,” he exclaimed, “why do I feel the need to abandon my life as I know it and start a new one here?”

I laughed. “Because you’re sane? This is an incredible place. Look at that view.” I held my hands out in front of me.

“Extraordinary,” he said, but when I looked up to agree with him, his eyes weren’t on the world around us, they were trained on me. My neck and face heated, but I didn’t find myself embarrassed.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing, we should, uh, get on the road,” he said, walking back to the rental.

“Alright.” I sighed. “Wait,” I said stopping him short by grabbing his arm. “You’ve got something on the back of your hoodie.” I dusted away imaginary nothings from his back, enjoying the unbelievably amazing muscles beneath his hoodie.

“Get it?” he asked.

“Oh, I got it.” I smiled at myself before settling in and buckling myself back in.

***
 

London was five hours away and I took the opportunity to get to know Tom a little better, asking him all his favorites. Favorite color, food, song, band. I packed as much as I possibly could in those five hours and by the end of it, I felt I knew Thomas Eriksson better than anyone possibly could in five hours with the impossible Thomas Eriksson.

Truth be told, I was surprised he’d opened up at all—let alone the amount he’d shared. The crazy part was for every question he answered, he expected me to answer the same, like he wanted to know as much about me as I wanted to know about him.

But an hour from London, the most unfortunate thing happened...Well, unfortunate yet at the same time
very fortunate
. You’ll see.

“Is Jonah going to be there?” I asked, fiddling with the stations. “At the shows tonight?”

“Yeah, it’s definitely a competition. He’ll be wherever we’ll be, I think.”

“Tell me about the bands. Who are they? How long have they been playing? Any past affiliations? Spill,” I said.

“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.
              “Tom,” I said, closing my eyes.
              “Come closer,” he said, inching my way.
              “If I was any closer, I’d be on your lap.”
              “I have no qualms with that.”
              “Tom, stop it.”
              “I’m tired of pretending I don’t find you the sexiest girl I’ve ever met in my entire life.”
              “Your entire life.”
              “I’m serious, January. You want to know why I moved to Austin?” When I didn’t say anything, he continued. “I moved to get away from a girl I was in love with but she belonged to someone else.” I gulped, my stomach twisted in knots. “But when we kissed, that burning need to have her vanished in an instant.”
              I took another deep breath. “Then why treat me like a disease?”
              “I’m afraid of you.”
              “Afraid.”
              “I’m a coward, January. I’m not sure if I can handle another heartbreak and I
know
if I fell for you, I’d fall so hard there’d be no coming back from it. You’re extraordinary.”
              I felt my body go still and my heart beat into my throat at his confession. My breaths got deeper and my chest began to pant. “Tom,” I whispered. “Sometimes the risk can be worth the reward.”
              We leaned into one another and closed our eyes. He languidly kissed the side of my red throat. His mouth following up, up, up until he reached my jaw and my breath hitched in my throat.              
              “I think you may be right, MacLochlainn.” He kissed down my jaw line until he came to the hollow beneath my ear. “Do you know how many times I’ve imagined doing this for the past six months?”
              “Oh, God,” I panted. “Probably not as many times as I’ve imagined.” I needed my hands free! If they hadn’t been tied so well behind my back, they would have been interlaced in his hair, clutching his mouth to mine.
              He followed farther up my jaw and across my cheek. I closed my eyes in anticipation as I felt his lips at the corner of my mouth.
              “’Ey, lovebirds! Ready for jail?” Officer One teased, settling into the driver’s seat. Tom and I broke eye and skin contact to glance his direction. He leaned over his seat toward us. “You really are a strange lot,” he said as Officer David opened the passenger side door and sat down.
              Tom took a complete one-eighty. “What’s the charge, officer?”
              “Attempted burglary.”
              “Ah, I see, and what were we supposedly attempting to steal?”
              “Uh,” Officer One said, looking over at Officer David. “When we look at the tapes...”
              “Oh! They have tapes! Thank God!” I interjected, earning a silencing look from Officer David.
              “We should get you attempting to open the register.”
              “You won’t get that at all,” Tom said. “And when you find out that we were just innocent in all this, our car stolen, etc. How quickly can we be released?”
              “Assuming you’re right, which we’re not, you’d be out in, oh, say, twelve hours?”
              “Twelve hours!” I said. “But we have to be in London by ten!”
              “Yeah, London by ten, you say? For what? Probably secret drug meetin’s and such.”
              “Oh, for Heaven’s sake!” I said. “We just had use for the phone is all!”
              “January,” Tom said, shaking his head. “Do we get a phone call at the station?” he asked Officer One.
              “One, yes.”
              At the station, they processed us both by taking our prints followed by a round of mug shots. I glanced at the computer and saw the pic they’d taken and almost burst out laughing. I looked like a frightened rabbit. Truthfully, I was a little frightened, but not enough to deprive myself of the laugh that was my mug shot. Does anyone take a good mug shot?