Thomas
L.A. was a fucking mess. I found a dozen bands worth signing and sent them Jason’s way, but I was so miserable, I barely remembered any of them. I was mechanical, even more than Austin Tom. Austin Tom was downright cheery compared to Los Angeles Tom.
In Austin, I was pissed off. Los Angeles, I was practically suicidal, depressed as hell and nearly crying into my damn pillow every single night like a damn girl. I was miserable. Every corner I turned, I thought I saw January. Every time I bought a coffee, went jogging, grocery shopping, I could smell her, hear her, feel her. She seemed to be everywhere I wanted her to be but not tangible enough to touch or kiss her. She was seared into my brain.
A month and a half into my stay, I knew I needed to see her. I just needed to drink her in, to soothe the ragged edges of my soul and just memorize her one more time. I’d do it every month if I had to. Eventually weaning myself free in a few weeks, months, okay, years.
I needed a plan.
And that plan came in the form of a phone call from Jason.
“Dude, we need you in New York,” he told me over a broken line.
“What? Why?”
“Let’s just say, the shiteth hath hitteth the fan.”
“Shut the eff up. What’s going on?”
“Just get your ass here. I’ll tell you all about it on Monday.”
I wasn’t going to fight it. A free ticket to New York? And I’d self-diagnosed myself dehydrated of January MacLochlainn. Time for your meds, Tom.
Take two Januarys a day and call me in the morning.
New York
“Thank God!” Jason said to me as I exited my cab.
I’d called a few minutes before and told him I was coming. He’d told me he’d meet me street level. This meant news to Jason. I found him smoking a cigarette. He put it out with his shoe by the time I’d closed the cab door.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”
“No,” he said succinctly. “Come with me.”
“Jeez, I’m pretty effing tired of these cryptic messages from you. Last time this happened, I got stuck doing something I didn’t want to do.”
o;It can’t be fixed,” I whispered as Callum slapped my shoulder in greeting.
“My God, Tom. I’ve found it very difficult to handle these women without you. We’ve taken a vote. You can’t leave again.”
This made me smile but it was unpracticed and he could tell something was wrong.
“You’ve been dumped,” he said.
Harper approached our little pow-wow and grabbed her husband’s hand, making my chest constrict at the idea that January and I could have been just like them. Perfect.
“You have?” Harper yells, before bringing her voice back down. “What the devil, Tom? Seriously?”
“Yeah, I have.”
Cherry wound her arm through mine and brought me close to her side. “We’re going to fix it, Tom.”
She said it so confidently, I almost believed her.
“Yes,” Harper agreed just as strongly. “It must be a mistake. Thomas Eriksson doesn’t get dumped. Girls should clamor in line to be with you.”
I smiled at her but couldn’t answer. Truth be told, I’d buried myself the second I didn’t trust January the way she deserved to be. I let my old cynical self take over and although I promised her I’d be good to her, I’d failed her.