Thomas & January (Sleepless 2)

“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.