"pic ops. i doubt we'll be put in any of the press, but jason said we have to dress up anyway."

"what! i didn't bring anything!"

"jason took care of that."

january

we reached our rooms at ten in the morning and i was only slightly freaking out that i could or could not be photographed and might or might not be put into print, immortalized forever as the slob who obviously dressed from a duffel bag for the largest music festival in europe, but tom assured me that jason had that all figured out so i decided not to freak out...too much.

"ready?" tom asked me as i opened my door to him.

tom had been acting very strangely, resorting to wearing his hood over his head again and i was slightly concerned at how ice-cold he'd been acting toward me, but i wasn't going to let this get to me. he would come to me and talk when he was ready.

"yeah, where are we going?" i asked.

"here," he said, handing me a note and a handful of cash before walking off.

i peered down at my hands. "wait!" i said laughing. "where are you going?"

"i've got some business to attend to."

"some business to tend to," i mocked his deep voice. "sorry little missus, this big man has things to do i wouldn't tax your tiny lady mind with. i got this."

he sighed and rolled his eyes. condescending jerk. "it's nothing to do with the label, january. it's personal."

"oh," i said. "all right, can i just come with you then?" i asked, grabbing his hand.

"no," he said, pulling away, wounding me. "uh," he said, clearing his throat. "listen, jason's waiting for you."

"and i take it you don't need new threads then?"

"no, well, yes, but jason's got my measurements. i trust him. i've gotta go. have fun," he told me before taking off down the corridor.

i just stared after him, wondering what in the hell crawled up his butt. then i ogled his rude butt and thought, "nice ass" but shook myself and remembered that he needed a swift kick there not an appreciative stare.

i went back inside, grabbed my purse and hailed a cab.

"o