Author's note: Once again, you guys really do me proud. I am so glad that someone is interested in my story. It has really grown on me. Okay guys, are you ready for some major drama? Things are really about to explode. I hope you guys bear with me to watch where the falling debris lands because, all in all, I think you'll enjoy where the story goes. It has defnitely taken on a mind of its own (laugh out loud). And don't worry, my computer and email is finally, and I mean finally working properly after I had someone come fix it so now I can read some of your stories and review too. Lots of smiles. Please Please R&R.
The tinkling sound of silverware and glass barely even registered in my mind as I perused the menu before looking over at Tom with a quirked eyebrow.
"Escargot?" I asked with a faint wrinkle of my nose at the thought as Tom chuckled. I just played haphazardly with the silverware in front of me as he laughed—wondering how the hell so many forks and spoons could be used for just one simple activity. Placing his hand over the front of my menu, Tom eased it down slowly as I looked up into his face.
"Not to keen on the idea of eating salted slugs, huh?" He asked as he pointed to another item on the list before grinning.
"Just don't think about ordering the lobster." He remarked wryly as I looked up at him warily.
"And what do you have against lobster, Tom Quincy, and don't tell me it's the price because that's covered." I said with a grin as Tom perused me gently.
"Let's just say I have seen that movie Pretty Woman, and it doesn't take a whole lot of stretch of the imagination seeing you trying to crack open a claw only to have it fly down some other woman's dress." Tom said with a wink as I cracked up. Oh, what a jolly idea.
"You just made me very interested in seafood." I said with a mischievous glint in my eye. Tom groaned. I had missed the banter between the two of us, and I looked up into his face seriously as I watched his own expression darken as he seemed to realize the same thing. The waitress walked up then, and he quirked a brow humorously as he ordered a steak while I, true to form, ordered the lobster just for the hell of it. The lady walked off as I looked down at the napkin I had placed in my lap. Mom had, despite her aversion to thinking so, taught me some manners before she disappeared.
"What were you and Kwest so enthralled in earlier?" He asked suddenly and I looked up to find Tom fiddling absent-mindedly with the stem of his champagne glass. I just shook my head.
"It's just the same routine, Tom. Everyone telling me the pros and the cons of why I should or shouldn't let myself get too close to you." I answered vaguely as I saw him visibly draw back into himself as raucous laughter from the adjoining table broke through our reverie.
"That's what they make vixens for." Spied remarked—his voice a little slurred, and I realized grimly that he must have imbibed a little too much in the alcohol list at the back of the menu. A year older than I at eighteen, he could afford to I suppose. Tom and I glanced up at each other poignantly as Spied laughed again at something the girl with him had said.
"I guess that's what back-stabbing, two-timing sluts are for too." He said just as loudly and I suddenly felt my body go cold as I looked over my shoulder in Spied's general direction. He looked up too at that moment and I saw his face fall as his gaze met my incredibly wounded one. I think he realized then that he had cut me a little too deeply because I saw the apologetic 'I don't know what I was thinking look' creep over his features as Tom's chair scooted back abrasively against the floor in front of me. I quickly leaned over and grabbed his arm with my hand.
"Don't, Tom. I don't think he's thinking clearly enough to realize what he's saying. I really hurt him tonight." I remarked sadly as Tom nodded sullenly before pushing his chair back in under the tablecloth. The food came then, and we concentrated more on eating than talking, and I even managed not to lose a lobster claw even though Tom winced every time I cracked into one. I just laughed at him.
"Now I know what to do to make you nervous, Quincy." I said with a small chuckle as Tom shrugged.
"Honey, you've been a nervous wreck for the entire studio since we signed on your 'I'll do it my own way' little ass, and I wouldn't change it for the world." He said with a grin as I looked up at him winningly.
"It's all that Harrison charm shining through." I said with a grin as Tom cocked his brow.
"More like stubbornness, but hey that's a trait keen in this business." He said with a subtle edge to his voice as I saw him look over at the dance floor. Most of the couples from the auction had managed to meander over to it, and I recognized Jamie and Patsy, Kwest and Portia, and SME and their girls whirling around the room seemingly enjoying themselves. I pointed laughingly at Sadie and Liam who seemed to be debating the fine merits of the ballroom dance floor as Tom grinned too before standing up and offering me his hand.
"Care to try?" He asked causally as I shrugged my shoulders before placing my hand in his and letting him pull me up gracefully. There are quite a few good things that could be said for fancy restaurants and their small dance floors—it forces people to get close. And I craved that closeness with Tommy more than I did fine wine or sparkling chandeliers. Tom pulled me into him as we danced, and I laid my cheek against the top of his slightly unbuttoned shirt—listening to his heart beat slowly as I danced in rhythm with it's soft melody. Neither of us spoke at first. It would have ruined the magic I think, but I finally looked up into his eyes imploringly as we moved.
"You know this is almost the most we have touched for this long a period of time since we met?" I asked with an incredulous glint in my eyes as he grinned.
"I guess it is." He said softly as I let my head fall again—just enjoying the moment until the world stopped again, and my screwed up life interfered. It's like holding a piece of fine china in your hand and watching in horror as you lose your grip on the object. You know inevitably that it's going to crash to the floor and shatter but you try your best to ignore the numbness it creates as you watch it fall in slow motion.
"I don't guess I could cut in?" A voice asked cynically as I looked over my shoulder in trepidation. Tom looked as if he was about to say something, but I held up my hand and shook my head. Maybe it was time Spied and I talked. Tom just nodded quickly before taking Spied's date and continuing the dance. I looked up at Spied warily.
"I'm sorry about tonight, Spied." I said sincerely as he pulled me to him and we began to dance. He just frowned at an invisible spot above my shoulder.
"I don't guess I have to ask why, huh Jude?" He said with a despairing wilt to his voice as I shook my head firmly. He just sighed.
"I guess I've always known. I just wanted to see if I could make you forget him. Why is he that hard to just walk away from?" Spied asked as I choked on a tear that was working itself up into my throat.
"Let's not analyze it, Spied." I said with a small sob as he looked down at me angrily. He was allowed to be hurt.
"I won't let this ruin the band or our music, Jude." He said suddenly as I looked up at him with a thankful smile until I saw the way he was staring across the room at Tom.
"But I am going to have to ask you to forgive me for this one thing." Spied said with finality before setting me aside and stomping toward Tom. I stared in horror as he suddenly lifted his fist and plowed it into Tom's face as hard as he could.
"Spied, no!" I yelled as Tom looked up at him stunned before narrowing his eyes. I knew Tom's strength, and I also knew he knew how to control it, but I didn't want to see them fight like this. Tom shoved Spied against a table before grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.
"I can understand your anger man, but now would not be a good time to provoke me." Tom said with a growl as Spied winced before shoving Tom against the chest. Tom didn't even stumble as he backed away and held up his hands in a gesture that said 'I'm finished here." But Spied didn't seem to get the memo because he picked up a bottle of wine and threw it. Tom ducked and I watched in equal parts horror and fascination as the object flew through the air only to come into contact with one of the restaurant's finest chandeliers shattering it into a million little pieces as patrons of the place screamed and backed to the edge of the room. I could hear Darius roaring as sirens sounded in the distance. And I knew somehow, with a weary heaviness in my heart, that things were about to explode at G Majors studio. Dear God! What else could go wrong?