A/N: Thank you, Abcd123, pnwer, atthtt, and Guest for your comments! So appreciated!
To atthtt: Barring death or other such tragedy (*cue dramatic music*), I will complete this story: don't worry! :)
Chapter Twelve – Cat and Mouse
The next few days feel like a slow, painful walk through hell for Tommy.
It starts on Friday with a visit to Darius' office and a tough conversation about the boss' decision to minimize Jude's, Karma's and Mason's roles in the Finale, which, in Tommy's opinion, basically led finalists to not give Karma and Jude the respect they deserved the day before. Of course, Tommy knows Darius is not a man who takes critique well, but there is only so much tiptoeing he can do around him if he wants to get his point across.
Not surprisingly, Darius is quick to ask the question Tommy was expecting: "Are you sure you're not just being overprotective of Jude?"
So Tommy is ready to answer it. "D, I caught Karma and Jude sneaking out. Together. Now we both know Karma is prone to be overdramatic, so I'm sure she exaggerated when she told me one of the finalists insulted her. But if I take that and couple it with what Jude said, I can get a clear picture. And you seem to forget that I was there at the town hall meeting, Darius. You all but told them that what Jude, Karma and Mason thought didn't matter."
"I didn't say that!"
"But I and Mr. Quincy will have final say," Tommy quotes. "What kind of message do you think that sent?"
"That's the truth. You and I will be making final decisions, T. You know that!"
"Then why did you name the three of them as judges? That's not fair!" Tommy can't help but snap a little.
"I was right: this is about Jude and you protecting her." Darius says with a satisfied smirk.
Tommy is taken suddenly by a dizzying sensation, and though he had intended to keep his conversation with Darius short, he's now forced to sit down.
"Whoa, T. Are you OK?"
Tommy holds up one hand and nods stiffly. "I'm fine."
"No. You look as white as a sheet."
"I haven't been sleeping very well; that's all."
Darius walks around his desk to lean against it, right in front of Tommy. "What's going on? Too much work? Is it Jude?"
Tommy sighs, not liking the direction this conversation is taking, but he knows Darius won't let it go until he gives him some kind of answer. "Yeah, it's work and it's Jude. It's a lot. It's keeping me up, but nothing to worry about."
Darius nods. "I listened to Kiera's track. And saw the note listing Bella Labelle as the guest singer. As far as fake names go, that one's pretty cute." Tommy smiles faintly. It's a lame name but it's the first one that sprung in his mind and he couldn't shake it off. "How did you convince Jude to do it?"
"She offered. I told her about the rules of her time here. Her bassist suggested she records under a nom de plume. And now, here we are."
"I imagine it was awkward, maybe even a bit hard to have Jude in your studio again."
"We are not talking about this, D. I just need you to fix the situation with the finalists."
"All right, all right. Jude and Karma can skip on their supervising duties today. And I'll make sure to tell the finalists that the judges' opinions will carry a lot of weight when it comes to making our decisions. Better?"
"Much."
"I guess that'll leave Jude free today, uh?" Darius says with a wink.
"Yeah. Free to work on a new song if you're still hoping to get that for your compilation, D.," Tommy says, standing up in an effort to effectively end the conversation by walking out.
"So you're going to get in touch with Karma and Jude to let them know?" Darius asks with a grin.
Tommy stops in the doorway. "I'll ask Sadie to do it." The last thing Tommy hears before going down the stairs is the sound of Darius' laughter. Just as his feet leave the last step, he spots Jude and Sadie walking through the main door. He darts quickly in the direction of Sadie's office; as quickly as he can without actually running and catching everyone's attention.
At some point over the previous night made up of spotty sleeping and X-rated dreams starring Jude, he's made the decision to avoid her as much as possible. Or at the very least, to avoid any time alone with her. Time with her and other musicians cannot be evaded—he knows that—but he cannot have a repeat of that breathtaking moment on the fourth floor when her hand on his arm had nearly made him tilt his head forward to just kiss her. He cannot have a repeat of literally catching her in an alley (or anywhere else for that matter) and feeling her body under his hand and against his chest. If he's to survive the next few weeks, if he's to find the courage to tell her the truth before she leaves, then he needs as much space as this forced proximity can afford him.
He stays in the dark of Sadie's office and soon, she walks in, turns on the light and lets out a yelp when she catches movement from the corner of her eye. "Quincy! You scared me half to death! What are you doing in here?"
Tommy gives her a sheepish smile. "Hey Sadie. Sorry, I thought you were already in," he lies. "I just talked to Darius and he agreed to let Karma and Jude off their supervising duties for today. Could you tell Jude? I'll call Karma."
"Well, Jude is here already. We came in together. You can go and tell…" Sadie lapses when she sees Tommy's expression. "You don't want to see Jude."
Tommy gives her a tight smile. "It's not that. It's just…"
"You're avoiding her," she states simply.
"Avoiding time alone with her, yes," Tommy corrects.
"Really?" Sadie says, thinking back on the night two days ago when she caught Jude crying.
Tommy looks down. "It's… It's better that way."
Though she promised herself (and Jake for that matter) that she would never interfere again, Sadie feels like she must speak on Jude's behalf. "Seeing you is hard for her too, but funnily enough, her reaction is to want to spend more time with you."
Though his heart sings at the thought, his good sense tells him that it's a bad idea. "We shouldn't do that."
"Are you afraid of what could happen between the two of you?" Sadie asks.
Tommy takes a deep breath. "Yeah, something like that." He looks up to Sadie. "So, could you tell her about being off today? Please?"
Sadie nods. "Sure."
"Thanks, Sadie," Tommy says, walking out.
Saturday; well Saturday morning is the day of his standing appointment with the nurse to check his vitals. Though he lies—just a little—most of the time about the severity of his symptoms, his clammy skin forces the nurse to page Tommy's physician for a quick check-up.
Dr. Stella Boldsen comes in and skims through the nurse's notes. "You've lost another pound and a half, Tommy." He doesn't say anything. "On a scale of one to ten, how's the pain?"
"About five," Tommy says.
"The real number," she says with a typical no-nonsense doctor tone.
"Seven."
"Do we need to increase the dosage?"
"No."
"Then why aren't you sleeping well?"
"H-how do you know?" Tommy stutters.
Dr. Boldsen gives him a faint smile. "Years of experience. What's going on? I already know you're overworked, since you made excuses not to show me your work schedule. Is that it? Too much work?"
"Yeah, yeah. That's what it is."
Dr. Boldsen makes a note of it, but she's not completely convinced. "What else?"
Tommy breathes in deeply. "Let's just say I'm dealing with a blast from the past."
"Someone negative? Someone bringing you undue stress?"
"No, no: nothing like that. Just… someone who makes me nervous."
"Ah. The ex-girlfriend."
"H-how do you know that?" Tommy exclaims, brows knitted.
"I don't live under a rock, Tommy. I know all about the Instant Star Finale and about your history with Jude Harrison. Well, your public history, that is."
"Yeah, cause if you knew about the private history, you'd know she's actually my ex-fiancée." Tommy hates to reduce it in those terms when Jude is so much more than that to him, but there it is.
"Well, that certainly explains the lack of sleep. But this isn't good, Tommy. You need all your sleep."
That's when, out of nowhere, Tommy feels compelled to blurt out: "What's the difference, doc? I am dying, aren't I? Might as well be awake for the time I have left."
Dr. Boldsen looks up from her chart. "You're on a waiting list, Tommy. There could be a match at any time." She flips through the pages of his medical record. "And I see you still haven't told anyone else."
"How do you know?"
"We only have one relation listed as having been tested as a potential donor: Kevin West. I'm having trouble believing he's your only friend."
Tommy chuckles dryly. "What if he is?"
Dr. Boldsen decides to ignore the remark. "Listen, Tommy: obviously, I cannot force you to tell anyone about your condition, but this is simple math—math even a child can understand: the more people get tested, the better our chances to find a match."
Tommy looks down at his hands. "I know. But telling people is not easy."
"I understand. Telling people makes it real." Tommy nods. Dr. Bolden starts scribbling on her prescription pad. "I'm going to prescribe you a light sleeping pill. I hope you don't have to take it, but you'll have it if you need it. You must get some quality sleep. And if the pain is still at seven or higher next week, I'll increase the painkiller dosage. OK?"
"OK," Tommy sighs grabbing the prescription and getting up.
"One last thing, Tommy: maybe telling people is the key to sleeping better. Think about it."
Then comes Sunday, which, technically, is supposed to be Tommy's only day off. At Kwest's insistence, Tommy meets him for brunch. He just steps out of his car when his phone dings with a new message from Kwest: "Sorry. Not my idea." Not sure to what he could be referring, Tommy walks in the restaurant to discover that his best friend has not only been joined by Vin, but also by Jamie, Jake and Jude. Tommy's actually quick enough to walk out without being seen and once he's back outside, he sends a reply to Kwest: "I can't".
Before Kwest can say anything, Spied asks, "Was that Quincy?"
"Yeah, he just texted me to tell me he can't make it."
Spied takes out his phone and, in a bizarre twist of the modern world of technologies, he sends Kwest a message: "He was here, right?"
"I think so," Kwest texts back.
The two guys exchange a look they consider subtle, but Jude misses nothing. She gets up quickly and runs for the exit. Outside, she catches Tommy just as he's about to close the door of his Porsche. "Tommy!" she calls out.
Tommy winces but steps out of his car and waits for her.
She stops a few feet away from him, as though she can sense the wall he's putting up. She probably can. "Are you leaving because of me?"
His hand reaches up to run through his hair, but he stops the telling gesture at the last second, deciding instead to shove both hands in his pockets. "No, no. I just got called by Darius. He needs me at the venue."
"Isn't today your day off?" she asks.
"It is, but hey! Tell that to Darius," he says with a wry smile.
Though Jude doesn't believe him, she also doesn't feel like she can just voice it bluntly. "You look tired, Tommy," she decides to say.
"I am. Actually, I hope I can get this taken care of quickly and then just head home and crash."
She smiles faintly. "Is that your subtle way of telling me to just let you go?"
Tommy chuckles. "Who knew I could be subtle, uh? I do have to go, though. Say hi to the guys for me, OK?"
"Sure," Jude says, going against every instinct that tells her to just latch on to him and take him in her arms, whether he likes it or not; whether he fights her on it or not. "But I hope we'll be able to catch up another time."
"Sure," he says with a tight smile. "I'll see you later, Jude."
"Oh, by the way," she says before he can turn around and climb back into his car. "Thank you for talking to Darius."
"You're welcome. He also said he'd speak to the finalists so they'd take you, Mason and Karma more seriously. So, that should make things better."
"Thanks for looking out for m—well, for us."
Tommy nods. "That's what I do. Have a good brunch, OK?"
Tommy gets in his car and rides off quickly, but can only drive about two blocks before he needs to park the car to take a moment to pick himself back up. When he finally gets home, he does exactly what he told Jude he'd do (minus the made-up stop at the venue supposedly requested by Darius): he crashes. Not even Kwest calling a few times in the afternoon and evening can bring him to get up from his bed.
On Monday, Tommy is busy installing cables and hauling all sorts of equipment at the venue, wondering where the hell his technician is, when Darius walks in and informs him that said technician quit on that very morning, giving him no notice.
"D, I'm not trying to be difficult here, but how the hell do you expect me to put everything together by myself?" Tommy says, a little out of breath from pushing and pulling equipment.
"I don't. I'm looking for a replacement, but finding and hiring someone competent at the last minute is not going to be easy. You know that."
"So basically, I'm on my own."
"Hey, I'll pitch in when I can."
Tommy throws him a sceptical look. "You will? How about right now then?"
Darius makes a face. "I can't right now."
"Right," Tommy says bending down to pull on a cable.
"But I'm sending reinforcements."
"Who?" Don't say Jude, don't say Jude, don't say Jude.
"Spiederman. He should be here in a few minutes. I know he's not a technician but he knows more than most, so he should at least be able to help a little. I'm also keeping the rehearsals at G-Major for the time being, OK? Giving you more time to set everything up. Just let me know when it's done, and I'll work with that."
"Isn't Vin supposed to rehearse, too?"
"Yeah, but Jude is working on the new song today, so she's busy composing. Spiederman can be spared. I could send you Sadie too, but I doubt she'd be much help. If you want her here though, just tell me."
Tommy puts up his hand. "No, no. No Sadie. She's perfect exactly where she is."
Darius grins. "That's what I thought. Well, I'm going."
Tommy is working on setting up the console and soundboard when Spied walks in with a chirpy: "Your knight in shining armour is here!"
"Well, woo pee doo," Tommy says wryly.
"Is that how you greet your friend who dropped everything to come and help you?"
"At Darius' command," Tommy adds in an even tone.
"Well, yeah. But I would've volunteered: you know that."
"Right," Tommy says loading a piece of the soundboard on the console.
"Someone's in a mood."
Tommy wipes his brow and meets Spied's eyes. "I'm sorry, man. Derek quitting is shitty timing. I could barely see managing this whole thing with him, so by myself… I don't know. I appreciate you coming out to help though: I really do."
"It sucks: I'll give you that. What can I do?"
Tommy scans the pile of equipment, not sure where to start, then his eyes stop on the cables—that's a simple enough task. "Well, if you could start setting up the cables on the stage, that'd be great. They have to run along the front of the stage—you'll see, there's a gutter and some traps there—and then along the left wall. They really have to be secured; otherwise, it could be a hazard. So go nuts with the tape, all right?"
"OK."
"Oh, and make sure to leave a good length of cables at the stage. Those will be hooked up to all the instruments, the amps and everything."
"I am the tape and length master," Spied says with a bow.
Tommy chuckles. "Thanks, man."
Once he's emptied about a quarter of a roll of tape, Spied finds the guts to question Tommy. "So, you sure ran out of the restaurant in a hurry yesterday."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"That's how you want to play it? All right. The brunch place: you came in, saw who was there and you ran right out."
"Vin, I really don't want to talk about it."
"Too bad. We are talking about it. It's just you and me here, man. Tell me the truth: are you avoiding Jude?"
Tommy breathes noisily. "A little."
"OK: progress. Why?"
"You know why."
"She ran out after you: doesn't that tell you something?"
"Even if it does, it doesn't change anything," Tommy says, checking out the cables to start plugging them in. "How are you getting on with Jake?" he asks, trying to change the subject.
"Good. He's a cool guy," Spied says before pausing and reflecting on that. "Is that what worries you?"
Tommy bobs his head in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"Do you, like, think there's something going on between them?"
Tommy pretends to be quite absorbed in the cables when he replies, "That's none of my business."
"Oh, that's bullshit, and you know it."
"Maybe. But that still doesn't mean I want to know."
"Well, wouldn't you want to know if, like, the coast is clear?"
Tommy shakes his head. "I won't pursue her, Vin. So like I said: I don't want to know."
"You won't… you won't pursue her? This is you and Jude we are talking about! That's not how the story ends."
"Vin: the story ended. A year ago. I asked her to marry me, she said no: that sounds like a pretty definitive ending to me."
"You know it's more complicated than that."
"Exactly. Things with me and Jude have been complicated from day one. It's time to stop fighting against it: fate doesn't want us together."
Spied chortles. "Funny. I would argue fate wants exactly the opposite and worked out this little month so you can, like, find your way to each other."
"It's too late," Tommy says, his voice flat.
"But you still love her."
Tommy sighs. "I will always love her, Vin. But it's still too late. So, please let's drop the subject, OK? We have tons of work to do here."
"Fine. I'm giving up… For today, Quincy."
"Awesome," Tommy says, rolling his eyes.
"And I only bug you because I care," Spied says with a grin.
"Ah, yes. How does the saying goes? You only hurt the ones you love? Then you must love me a whole lot, uh?"
"Like the night loves the moon," Spied jokes.
"Just… Just get back to work," Tommy chuckles.
"But Quincy: we are expecting you to come out with us for drinks after the studio tomorrow. And none of us will take no for an answer."
"Yeah, we'll see about that," Tommy says, testing out a piece of equipment.
"Oh, we will!"
Tommy shakes his head, but doesn't say anything. The game of cat and mouse will have to end tomorrow. Because tomorrow, he's back in the studio with Jude. Good luck sleeping tonight, he thinks, patting the sleeping pill prescription in his pocket.
