Phew!

You are all caught up to the number of chapters I have written out, now! Yay!

This next chapter that you all are getting is long, so I apologize for that. I know some readers don't really like long chapters, but I didn't want to split this, so my apologies. Hope all of you still enjoy it, all the same.

The next part of this story delves into Tommy's past. We get a small peek inside his head, so hopefully, that part kicks ass! Lol.

Thanks so much for all the reviews! They really do make my day and I'm always excited to read what all of you think about this story!

Please continue reviewing! You all rock!

Disclaimer: I do not own Instant Star. Damn.

Chapter 13

For the next few weeks, things were beyond tense between him and Jude. She was back to picking fights with him, and he was back to feeling like the big vein in his head was going to pop any second.

Anytime he even hinted about the kiss, she tensed and got angry with him, which usually resulted with either her chewing him out, or storming out of the studio. He didn't understand where the sudden wrath was coming from. Every time their skin just even innocently brushed, he could feel her tense, see her hands ball up into fists and then when he would turn around, sometimes he could even hear her cursing under her breath.

Much to his amusement, he wasn't the only one she was picking fights with. Andrews was apparently getting a good chunk of her wrath as well and as much as he didn't want to, he did feel bad for the guy. Every time she would lay into him, he would look so confused by her actions, clearly not understanding what he had done to deserve such a tongue-lashing.

There had been one day that was so bad that he didn't want anyone else getting whiplash from her verbal assaults. He had spotted Andrews coming into the studio and had luckily found a free second to tell an intern that was nearby to inform Jamie to get out while he still could. Tommy had watched forlornly as he quickly retreated out of G-Major.

As much as she yelled and bickered at him, it wasn't to say that he didn't dish it back just as much as he received it, though. Sometimes the arguments between them escalated so badly that people would actually come into the studio to check on them. Most of the time, though, as soon as they entered, they would quickly leave with just a couple of glares from himself and Jude. No words would need to be said for them to get the picture that they weren't welcome in the middle of whatever shouting match they were in.

And today, they were in the middle of yet another argument. Now, she was fighting with him about a small chord change. Again.

He let out a frustrated groan and felt his jaw clenching. "We're changing the chord!"

"And I said I have no problems changing the chord! I just want a different one than the one you suggested! I don't like that one."

"Well that's too damn bad! It'll work better with the one that I originally suggested and you know it."

"And I say that it will work better with my chord change!"

"Yeah, well, I'm the producer, so, guess who wins?"

Her jaw tightened and she angrily threw her notebook at him, which proceeded to him square in the face. "What the hell?!" he shouted as he caught the journal in his hands.

"I am so sick of your annoying little power trips that you have!"

"Oh yeah? Well I'm sick of the fact that you have been picking fights with me for almost three weeks straight now! And over the stupidest shit, too! It's like ever since—"

"Don't go there, Quincy," she warned. Her eyes had narrowed and her nostrils were flaring, but he didn't care. Ever since that stupid kiss, things had gone from bad to worse between them and it was time that it ended. He was tired of it.

"I think it's time we went there! We haven't exactly talked about it, you know."

"And there's a reason for it! It shouldn't have happened in the first place!"

"Stop! Stop saying that!"

"Just drop this now. Can we start working on the song again, please?" she asked irritably.

"Oh, so you can fight with me some more over the same thing that we've been fighting about for the past week now? It's getting so old!"

"You know something, you're right. It is getting old. I'm tired of this."

"Thank you! Finally, we agree on something!"

She shook her head slowly and her gaze focused on him now. He didn't particularly care for the look in her eyes while she was staring at him. "I don't think you get it Tommy. I'm tired. I can't do this anymore."

A sick feeling bubbled up from the pit of his stomach. He didn't like where this was going. "What are you talking about?"

She sighed and brushed her hair out of her face, took a deep breath and spoke so quietly that he wasn't even sure that he heard her. "You're fired."

A pregnant silence engulfed the room. Shock filtered through him. She was joking. She had to be. They had had worse fights than this and all they ever needed was just a cooling off period. Then everything would start all over again just like it had the day before.

"What?" he croaked out.

She shut her eyes and sucked in her breath once more. "You're fired," she repeated.

Her voice had cracked and she started walking out of the studio. He was too shocked to do anything to stop her, so he just stood there like an idiot while she stormed off.

He had no idea what the hell was going on anymore. He didn't think things were that bad.

But as the shock wore off, he realized that Jude's voice had, indeed, cracked as she bit out the second time that he was fired. He knew her well enough by now to know that something else was going on. Whether or not her frustrations were still entirely because of them, he had no idea. But he knew it was something.

He grabbed his keys and rushed out of the studio, feeling anger slowly replacing his shock. She didn't get to fire him and not talk to him about it.

He spotted Spiederman goofing off with SME in the lobby and he had a feeling that her lead guitarist knew where she was.

"Spied! Where'd Jude go?" he demanded.

He briefly glanced up at Tommy while Wally and Kyle were still throwing food at each other.

"How should I know? I'm not the lady's keeper."

"Vince, in case you haven't noticed, I'm already pissed off and right now, the anger is not directed at you. So unless you'd like it to be, you're going to tell me where she went. Right now."

He could hear Spied swallow as his eyes widened. "Rehearsal space."

"Thank you."

Jude slammed the door to the rehearsal space and started pacing. It wasn't fair. She was just starting to get used to the guy again and now she had to realize that she wanted him? That dream that she had a few weeks ago was too real for her liking. It didn't bode well with her. Not to mention the fact that it was a recurring dream as of late. She hated it. It always left her feeling uncomfortably warm and sweaty and it made it difficult to even look at Tommy anymore.

The past few weeks, she had been so damn frustrated with everything and the easiest way for her to get anything accomplished was to keep Tommy at a distance, a distance that included him as far away from her as physically possible. Any time his skin even brushed hers, her own flared with heat and it was all she could do to not shove him up against a wall and start kissing him senseless.

But he didn't know any of that. It was impossible for him to know any of that. Especially when she had been making it clear that their brief lip-fused encounter should and would never happen again. He didn't seem to like that too much, but she didn't really give a damn. She had felt horrible enough the first time it had happened.

The guilt of kissing him and wanting to kiss him every time they were alone together had escalated to the point where she just couldn't take it anymore. When she had made a decision that maybe it was time for a change, she had been committed to it—at first. But every time she made a move to actually act and make the change possible, she couldn't do it. Not when she knew how badly Jamie would get crushed in everything. He meant too much to her for her to do something that cold, that cruel. So, her frustrations continued to grow and she decided to take most of them out on Tommy. It wasn't fair, but it was the best she could do, especially with her feeling as miserable as she did about everything. So that, among other things, had resulted in her brash decision to fire him.

She hadn't spoken to Georgia about it—she had just needed to get out of G-Major as fast as she could. Perhaps when she had a clear head about everything, she would go to her boss and calmly explain her decision about firing Tommy.

Her chest tightened at the thought and she couldn't remember how she had gotten so attached to him in such a short amount of time. It didn't seem right. It was as though his absence the past three years meant nothing to her anymore and she had just gone with it. She continued to feel more and more connected with the ex-boybander and the thought of her not working with him anymore wasn't one she necessarily liked.

They made great music together. She knew that much. The music was easy.

It was everything else that was the problem.

Out of nowhere, she heard a loud banging noise. She groaned loudly when she realized that it was probably Tommy. This was not good. She didn't need to be near him right now.

Attempting to ignore the obscene banging, she tried to concentrate on playing her guitar, just to try and drown out the sound. Instead of her plan working, the knocking only got louder.

She let out a frustrated groan and reluctantly walked over to the door, feeling pissed off. She slowly unlocked the door and creaked it open.

Sure enough, Tom Quincy was on the other side of the door, looking as angry as she felt. "Go away," she mumbled.

She heard him curse under his breath and the next thing she knew, the door was being flung open and Tommy had stormed in the rehearsal space. "Get out!"

"I don't think so, girl. Not until you tell me what the hell you were thinking when you fired me!"

"Just go away, damn it!"

"No! What is your deal, Jude? Look, I told you I'm sorry that I kissed you! I don't understand what the problem is!"

"Well you wouldn't!" she declared angrily.

"You're being ridiculous! It was one kiss, Jude! One. And it's not even like it lasted that long either! I—wait a second. That's what all of this is about, isn't it?"

Jude's eyes narrowed. If she wasn't confused before, she sure as hell was now. "You lost me here, Quincy."

"You felt it. When we kissed. You did kiss me back, whether you want to admit it or not. That's why you've been pushing me away these past few weeks, isn't it? You're scared of spending more time alone with me, aren't you?"

She tried denying it, not wanting to feed into his impossible ego. But every single time she tried to open her mouth, she couldn't get the right words out. It was useless. So instead, she rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms and gave him the dirtiest look she could muster. "Get over yourself, Quincy. I don't want you," she lied.

He smirked and started walking closer. She felt her eyes widening as she instinctively took a few steps back. "What are you doing?"

"Well, you don't want me, right? So it shouldn't bother you being so close to me."

"It doesn't."

"You're a bad liar. You're so uncomfortable right now. You can feel the electricity between us increasing, the want increasing," he declared with certainty.

She gulped as she stared into his desire filled eyes. He was holding nothing back. "You don't know me, Tommy. Stop pretending like you do." Though her words were intended to cut him, she knew they wouldn't have the desired effect because they lacked any intensity they needed. She was weak. He was weakening her.

His smirk simply grew wider at her words and he shook his head, clearly amused by her antics.

She was uncomfortable with him being this close to her, so she continued her backwards walk and with each step backwards, he took equal steps forward until she was finally backed up against a wall.

He placed his left hand by her waist and his right up by her head, creating a trap without even touching her. Her breathing quickened and she silently cursed her body for betraying her like this.

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "This doesn't make you uncomfortable, huh? Tell me you don't want me and I'll back away."

As she opened her mouth to do just that, the words fell flat. She couldn't say it. "I…" Come on, Jude. Just finish the sentence. But she couldn't, and she knew she couldn't.

His face was serious as he shook his head. "You can't say it, can you?"

He leaned his forehead against hers and she closed her eyes, unable to bring herself to look at him. She felt his fingertips graze her cheek and then they slowly moved down to trace the curve of her jaw line.

After he was finished with that, he moved his index finger from her chin to her mouth, slowly replaced it with his thumb and began moving it along her lips. Her breath hitched and she suddenly forgot how to breathe.

She dared to open her eyes and found that his lips were mere centimeters away from her own. She wanted it. Oh did she ever.

But as she saw him leaning in to close the gap, fear enveloped her. She remembered all the reasons she didn't trust him, all the reasons she needed to stay away from him. She remembered how guilty she had felt the last time, she remembered Jamie.

"Tommy," she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He groaned and let his left hand fall to his side. "Don't."

"We can't."

"Why?"

Why Jude? Tell him why you can't do this. Her brain remained blank momentarily as she tried to fumble for the right words. She swallowed nervously. "I have a boyfriend."

Tommy's eyes darkened and he quickly backed away from her, shaking his head angrily. "That's really convenient, isn't it?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked hotly. She was slowly starting to regain her wits now that she was at a comfortable distance from him.

"It means that I bet Andrews never once crossed your mind until you realized that it was happening again. That you wanted it to. As soon as things get intense like this between us, you suddenly have a boyfriend," he said smartly.

"Don't say things like that. You don't know what you're talking about. I'm with Jamie. He is my boyfriend!"

He shook his head again, still looking very upset and frustrated. "No, he's not."

Confusion filled her as he tried to contradict her statement. Jamie was her boyfriend. What the hell was he talking about? "Excuse me?"

"He's your excuse to hide behind," he declared with so much venom and bitterness that she had a hard time believing that it was him saying it.

When she didn't say anything, he continued shaking his head and quickly left the rehearsal space, slamming the door behind him in the process.

She released a breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding and felt tears spring to her eyes. Instead of trying to blink them back she fell to the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees and released heart-wrenching sobs.

She hated crying. But she felt as though she had the right at the moment.

Tommy had voiced what she had been too afraid to admit. She was using Jamie; she was using Jamie as an excuse to stay away from him. And it had to stop. It wasn't fair to anybody.

She needed to get her shit together and take control of her life again. But for now, she just wanted to cry some more…

She didn't know when, but at some point during her crying fit, she had gotten herself up off the floor and moved over to the old couch in her rehearsal space, wrapping the afghan hanging over the side tightly around her and had fallen asleep. She didn't cry herself to sleep again, though. Thank God. The tears had thankfully stopped shortly after they had begun. Lately she felt like that's all she had been doing was crying and she despised it. But, despite the subsided tears, she hadn't felt any better. In fact, if anything, she felt worse.

Therefore, unsurprisingly, although she had fallen asleep, she hadn't had a good sleep.

So when a quiet knocking at the door woke her up, she was still slightly disoriented and didn't even think about the fact that it could be Tommy again.

But when she opened the door a surprise greeted her.

"Johnny?"

Shock filtered through every fiber of her being. Johnny was certainly the last person she would have expected to show up on her doorstep. Things between them had not gotten any better the past few weeks, and she had basically abandoned all hope that things would ever get better.

As she took in the sight of him, she couldn't remember a time where he ever looked this bad. Except for maybe her accident.

He had grown a thick mass of stubble, and he looked so unkempt and so tired that even his bags had bags. She couldn't stop her hand from covering her mouth at the shock of how terrible he looked.

"Hi," he said quietly. "Can I come in?"

Wordlessly, she stood aside and gestured for him to come in and quietly closed the door behind her.

Neither one spoke a word for what seemed like hours, but really was probably only a few minutes. Her nerves were getting the best of her and she couldn't think of a thing to say to him as he stood there, avoiding her gaze all the while.

"I'm sorry!" he blurted out.

She was, once again, shocked when she saw tears spill out of his eyes. He finally looked at her and her heart nearly broke at the sight. "I'm so sorry."

She took the few necessary steps she needed and quickly wrapped her arms around him, trying to offer him as much comfort as she possibly could. He instantly returned the embrace and buried his head in the crook of her neck. She could tell he was crying, but he was trying to be as quiet as possible. Johnny despised letting himself cry and only ever did so when he was incredibly upset. She'd only ever seen the man cry twice, including right now.

When she tried to pull out of the hug, he only pulled her back in tighter, refusing to let go. "I missed you," he whispered.

She sighed, wanting to be angry with him for putting her through this unnecessary hell these past couple of months, but she found herself unable to do so. Not when she missed him so much and not when she could tell how much he was beating himself up over it already. She couldn't bring herself to be angry with him. "I missed you too, babe."

He finally pulled back from the tight hold they had both had on each other and rested his forehead against her own. "I'm an idiot."

"Go on," she said humorlessly.

"A moron, among other things, and I'm also incredibly selfish and stupid for ignoring you these past couple months."

"So why did you?" she asked, feeling tears spring up in her eyes. It still hurt, even though he was standing right in front of her.

He took a deep breath and walked over to the couch so he could sit down and gestured for her to do the same. As she slowly followed him, he started explaining himself. "I lied, Jude."

Her eyes narrowed as a frown graced her lips. "What are you talking about?"

"Do you remember back when we were still talking all the time?" She nodded and patiently waited for him to continue. "I told you that I loved it in L.A. I told you that everything was great, that I loved work and my artists… basically I told you anything I could to make you believe that it was true. But it wasn't. It was the farthest thing from being true."

"Why?" she asked quietly.

"I was drowning, Jude. The hours were so long that I barely had time to go to my apartment and shower and get a clean pair of clothes on, my artists are the biggest bunch of… I just couldn't deal with it all.

"And when we would talk, it wasn't doing my sanity much good. Every time I heard your voice, I just wanted to get on the next plane back to Toronto. I thought that it might be easier—"

"To ignore me," she finished sadly.

He quietly nodded his head. "Turns out I was wrong about that, too. I thought that maybe if I ignored you, things would get better, but instead, they only got worse. When I was finally able to make it to my apartment and get some sleep, I couldn't get my head to turn off for the night, or day, whichever time it fell under. I couldn't deal with the guilt; I couldn't deal with… with not being able to talk to you."

"You could have talked to me, though. You know that."

"I didn't. By the time I had finally decided to call you back, you had beaten me to the punch when you called and Jane answered the phone. I had just gotten to the phone and you had already hung up. I tried calling you back, but you were giving me a dose of my own medicine and ignoring me, so I didn't know what to make of it. I thought that maybe I had finally succeeded in pushing you away and when that happened, I didn't like that thought much.

"These last three weeks have been like I was living in my own personal hell. The thought of not having you in my life anymore at all was killing me—"

"Hey, that doesn't matter anymore, okay? What matters is that you wised up to the fact that you were being a class A moron and flew all the way back here to tell me so. This is better than any phone call, Johnny."

He offered a small smile and pulled her to him so that she was cuddled up against his chest. She hadn't realized how much she missed the feeling of this. "I missed you," she whispered.

He sighed sadly and pulled her closer to him. "I know, babe. I know."

Tommy sat at the bar and ran a wary hand over his face dejectedly. He'd been coming here for a while and nodded when the bartender, Pete, came over to him. "Hey Pete. How's it going?"

"Slow. But then again, it is rather early for most bar patrons, Tom."

He sighed and rolled his eyes. Pete was the only bartender who ever cautioned him about drinking. Sometimes he was grateful for the fact that Pete really seemed to care, but other times, like now, he almost resented it.

"I know. But it's Happy Hour somewhere, right?"

Pete shook his head and gave Tommy an amused smirk. "Scotch?"

Tommy nodded and offered Pete a small smile of thanks. Okay, so maybe it was a little early for him to be at a bar, but he needed something to calm his nerves. Once Pete poured the drink, he placed it in front of Tommy and busied himself behind the bar. He knew Tommy well enough by now to not ask questions until he had at least four or five drinks in his system. He swirled the liquid around in his glass before taking a drink, feeling it burn all the way down, but not really caring. Nobody managed to get under his skin quite like Jude Harrison.

He couldn't believe how much their roles had changed over the years. When he had first started working with her back when she initially won the Instant Star competition, he had done everything in his power to keep her at arms' length. It was easy for him to see that she got him like nobody else, that she had understood him. And that's what had made it so bad for him. The girl had only been fifteen; he had been twenty-two. It had killed him knowing that a girl that young understood the way his twisted mind worked. And he had no idea why, but she had looked up to him, believed in him. He loved that she looked at him with the look that only she could give. It was a look that he only ever saw her give to him and he hadn't been willing to crush that. He wasn't that guy and he hadn't wanted to allow himself become that guy.

Not long after he had started producing her, his brother Tristain had called with news about their mother. He had been taking care of her ever since Tommy could remember; but when Tristain had had to get a job and help take care of bills, he had needed his big brother's help. At first, Tommy had offered to send him some money and take care of whatever they needed, but Tristain had been too proud and unwilling to accept his help in that way. His little brother had gotten so mad that he had almost taken back the request for him to go back to New Brunswick and help look after their mother.

But Tommy quickly apologized and had told him that whatever he needed, he would be there.

After he had given it some thought, he had realized that it was the perfect opportunity, the perfect excuse to get away. That call from Tristain had been like a Godsend. As much as he had hated the reason for leaving, he had eagerly taken the chance to get away from Toronto—away from her. His self-control had been slipping and with each passing day, it had been getting more and more difficult to be the responsible one, the levelheaded one. So, he had told Tristain he would get there as soon as he could and that had been that.

Once he had left, he had wanted to call Jude. In fact, he had pulled her number up and been ready to call her so many times it was ridiculous. The need to talk to her when he had found out what had happened with her and Shay had been overwhelming. But he had known that she had had a good support system and that the last thing she would have needed would be him calling and making an even bigger mess out of things.

He swallowed the last of his drink and slid the glass over to Pete. "Can I get another, please?"

Pete gave Tommy a scolding look that reminded him of the look most fathers gave their kids when they were doing something wrong. But, the graying man sighed and conceded, knowing it was pointless to try to convince Tommy otherwise that it was stupid to try and drink his problems away.

Once Pete placed the drink back on his napkin, Tommy's thoughts drifted back to Jude.

After he had decided not to call her after the Shay incident, he had made an even bigger decision that hadn't been easy. He had made a promise to himself that he wouldn't even pay attention to what was going on with her anymore in the media. Anything that had had to do with Jude Harrison, he ignored. Any time Jude was brought up in conversation, he shot that topic down. It was like she had ceased to exist to him. Or so he deluded himself into believing.

While he had started to put into practice the decision to cut Jude completely out of his life, he threw himself into working on his own music and taking care of his mother. That had not been a good time in his life. He and his mother had never gotten along.

He had been a troublemaker in his youth and Tristain had been the golden-child. He could do no wrong. Tommy, on the other hand, could do no right. In fact, even when he had managed to do something even halfway decent, his mother would look for all the flaws and find some way to shoot it down. His knack for getting into trouble had always managed to piss her off, which wasn't good, considering the fact that she was a heavy drinker. He couldn't remember how many times his own mother had shouted at him and called him worthless, told him that she was embarrassed to have him as a son.

He had done everything in his power to shield Tristain from that pain. When their mother would go on her drinking binges and he would know it was going to be a night that led to some form of abuse, he would kneel down in front of his little brother and tell him to go play in his room and no matter what he heard, he had to stay in there and be quiet. Tommy would take whatever she had to dish—as long as she had stayed the hell away from Tristain, he hadn't cared what she did to him. Eventually, she would always fall asleep on the couch and Tommy would quietly sneak back to check on Tristain, who never understood why his big brother would get bruises and Tommy never bothered explaining it to him. He had always just laughed, ruffled his younger brother's hair and told him that he had a klutz for a big brother.

Even though it hadn't been his childhood anymore, it didn't change things much. The Alzheimer's disease only made things worse. It was like his mother was trapped in the past, which forced Tommy to relive his most painful childhood memories; memories he'd just as soon forget existed, memories he'd always protected Tristain from. When Tristain would get home from work and find their mother yelling and screaming at Tommy, he had tried to mediate the best that he could, but it had gotten to the point where it had even been too much for Tristain. His younger brother had seen the affect that everything was having on Tommy and had suggested that they finally put her in a home. Tommy had refused, but Tristain had admitted that he wasn't stupid, that he had finally figured out what had gone on all those years ago. He had practically begged Tommy for the chance to return the favor and finally be the one that did the protecting. So they had both collaborated and found a home to put her in. It had not been an easy decision to make, but they both knew it had been for the best.

Shortly after he and his brother had put their mother in a home, he'd gone out to California. Which was probably the worst mistake in his life. L.A. had not been a grand experience for him. The months before with his mother had taken a bad toll on him and had hardened him to the point of nearly no return. He had begun his slow path of self-destruction even before he had made the decision to go to California. So, add a party town into the mix and the results would equal disaster.

And then, finally after spending a few weeks in California, he came back to Canada and had met her. He refused to allow himself to even think her name; it still made him too angry. She had been the first person since Jude to not take his shit. When he had started producing again, she had been his first artist and when he would put on his tough guy act, she had seen right through it and had always called him on his bullshit. Anytime he'd try to engage her in a shouting match, she would merely rolled her eyes at him and tell him to calm down before he popped a blood vessel. Despite himself, he allowed a small smile at that memory.

He shook his head roughly, not allowing himself to think about it. He wouldn't go there, back to that time. Not if he could help it, or had any say in the matter.

He looked down at his glass and was ready to take a drink and hadn't even noticed that his drink was empty again. But, when he did, he slid it back over to the other side of the bar, not even saying that he would take another. Pete simply nodded reluctantly and refilled it.

Now he was back in Toronto and Jude had, once again, despite his assertions to not allow her to, managed to break through those walls that he had so carefully built and she didn't even realize it. She was important to him, more important than he'd like to admit. And any time he felt as though things were good, she'd pull back and distance herself from him. It was damn frustrating and he couldn't help but think about how ironic this all was. He had always been the one to run away from things, and now it seemed as though he was pushing for her to accept him in her life.

He took another drink and quickly pulled out his phone when it began ringing. He hesitated before answering it once he saw who it was, though. "Yeah?"

"Hey man. How's it going?"

He took a deep breath and shook his head. "Honestly, not too great."

There was a pause on the other end. "Where are you?"

"The bar on 12th Street."

"Stay put. I'll be there in a little bit."

And the next thing he heard was the dial tone. He sighed loudly and couldn't believe that he had actually been honest about how he was doing. It was pretty shocking to him. The only possible explanation would have to be that the alcohol was finally working its way into his system. Otherwise, he would have lied flat out and said he was fine.

Much to his frustration, his mind wandered back to Jude. He hated that she could do that. It was like she yielded this power over him… like he was no longer the one in control over his own life. It seemed that no matter what he did, his thoughts always managed to drift back to Jude.

It didn't seem fair that she was treating their relationship like it was nothing, like it had no effect on her at all.

He couldn't believe that she actually fired him and was sticking to it. Yes, he remembered that she hadn't rehired him back at the rehearsal space. And it didn't seem like she was going to anytime soon.

He hated that word would get back to Darius. His boss's final warning floated through his mind: "This is your last chance. Don't screw it up." Things had been going so well and he had blown it because he couldn't control his damn hormones. Now, he was screwed.

He quickly swallowed the last of his drink and eyed the empty glass condemningly.

"Hey Pete. Can you get me another?"

Pete eyed Tommy warily as he wiped the counter down. "Are you sure about that, Tom?"

He glared at Pete and let out a bitter laugh. "Let's see, Pete. My life is a mess right now. Things had started going in the right direction, but now it's all gone to shit. My artist just fired my sorry ass and this was my last shot, so it looks like I'll be out of a job soon. So, yeah. I'm pretty damn sure that I'd like another."

"One scotch, coming right up."

Johnny walked into the bar, shaking the rainwater off from his jacket. On his way to meet Tommy, it had started pouring and he was thankful he had gotten a taxi before the rain started.

Once he stepped over the threshold of hole-in-the-wall bar, he immediately spotted Tommy and sighed. He looked worse than Johnny would have guessed over the phone.

Tom was in mid-drink when he walked over to the bar and glanced up at the bartender. Johnny shook his head solemnly and got the guy's attention behind the counter. "He'll have a water," Johnny said as he pointed to Tommy. After he situated himself at the bar, he got the man's attention again. "Actually, can you make that two waters, please?"

"Ah, Johnny. Glad to see that you took my advice and came back to Toronto," Tommy said cheerfully as he took another sip of his drink. "Maybe you'll have better luck with Jude than me." He raised his glass as though he were toasting. "Cheers," he said as he swallowed the last of his drink.

He eyed Tommy warily, unsure of just how drunk the man was. He couldn't even believe that he was at a bar this time of day. "What happened?"

Tommy scowled and glanced over at Johnny. "Shouldn't you be with Jude right now? Oh no, wait. That's right. You two have probably kissed and made up already," he laughed bitterly.

"Jude's asleep," he remarked offhandedly, not bothering to tell him that he was right, that they had basically 'kissed and made up', as he liked to call it.

The bartender placed the waters in front of them and Johnny motioned for Tommy to pick it up and drink it. He made a face of distaste when the water went down his throat. "Ugh. This would taste so much better if it were alcohol. Maybe vodka!"

"Tom, come on. Be serious. What's going on?"

He sighed and looked down at the countertop, clearly not wanting to spill his guts. So, Johnny waited patiently and began drinking his water. Minutes passed before Tom finally whispered, "Jude fired me."

Johnny's eyes widened. "What?"

"Did you forget to clean out your ears this morning, Summers, or did L.A. burn out all of your brain cells and you're suddenly just too stupid to comprehend what I'm saying? She. Fired. Me," he repeated angrily.

Okay, so he's a pissy drunk, Johnny thought to himself while trying to keep a straight face.

Instead of getting angry, like Tommy clearly expected him to, he couldn't stop the twitch that formed at the corner of his lips and he simply gave him an amused smirk. There was nothing humorous about the situation, though. That much was clear.

He cleared his throat, composed himself, and faced Tommy. "What happened? I thought things were okay now?"

"Oh? Jude didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" he asked, feeling more confused than ever.

"I kissed her," he laughed. "And she's been picking fights with me ever since and then she fired me over a damn chord change argument. Nice, huh?"

Johnny sighed. He was going to have to have a little talk with his favorite blonde. She had definitely lied to him when she had told him everything was fine. He should have known, though. Now that he thought about it, she did seem rather skittish when Tom had come up in the conversation. He was off his game and that would definitely have to be something that he fixed.

"Come on, Tom. Let's get you home."

"I'm good here. There's an endless supply of booze here in case you haven't noticed."

"Which is exactly why we're leaving. Let's go."

"Tom, listen to your friend. Go home," the man behind the counter instructed.

Tommy heaved a sigh of defeat. "I guess you're right, Pete." Johnny watched as Tommy pulled out his wallet and laid a 50 on the counter. "Keep the change, man. I don't need it."

When they got outside, Tommy reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. Johnny's eyes widened and he placed a hand on Tom's chest to stop him from going anywhere. "Yeah right. Keys. Hand 'em over."

"I'm perfectly fine. I've driven in worse conditions than this," he admitted.

At Tommy's confession, flashes of totaled cars flew into his mind. Blood on the road. Fear.

Johnny's jaw clenched as he remembered and Tommy's unconcerned attitude about driving like this only pissed him off more. It was taking all of his willpower that he possessed to not punch the living daylights out of the man. "Keys," he demanded.

Tommy rolled his eyes and tossed the keys in the air as he made his way to his car.

Honestly, Johnny was surprised that he didn't fight with him any further on the matter. Guys like him never conceded that easily, especially when they were as obsessed with their vehicles as Tommy was.

Not questioning it, Johnny raced to the driver's side, started the car, and tore off down the streets of Toronto.

As he glanced briefly over at Tommy, whose head was resting against his seat with his eyes shut, he realized that there was probably more going on here than he originally thought. And before he went back to L.A., he needed to figure out what the hell was going on between Tommy and Jude.

A/N: Okay, I realize some of you are probably getting frustrated with Jude (and me--hehe), but please, please have faith. I promise, I'm almost positive that the next chapter is going to be full of Jommy goodness... well, Jommy progress, anyway. I think you all will like chapter 14.