Resist (Sphere of Irony 3)
“Hello?”
“Gavin? Are you home?”
“Ross,” I huff. “I just fucking got back from the tour an hour and a half ago, same as you. Where else would I be?” I can fight with Ross.
“Well I’m standing on your front step with the investigators assigned to your case and you’re not answering the door,” he snaps, clearly just as tired and sick of this shit as I am. “Security says you’re here, so what the hell?”
“Fuck. I’m on the beach. Hold tight. Me and Sasquatch here will let you in.” I glance over at my tall companion. He does nothing to indicate my nickname bothers him.
“Gavin,” Ross says when I open the front door. “These are Agents Halifax and Van Zandt from the FBI.”
Ross enters the house with two men in serious suits. They definitely give off the Fed vibe with their holier than thou attitude. Too
exhausted to be polite I simply grunt and flop down on the couch, not bothering to shake hands or offer them a drink.
“We’re here because—”
“I fucking know why you’re here,” I growl. “A sick fuck left a goddamn human finger in my dressing room! Then he tried to kill who he thought was my boyfriend because of some misplaced delusional jealousy!”
Neither agent reacts to my outburst. Son of a bitch! What’s it take to get someone to fight with me? I picked on my bodyguard and couldn’t get a response, now these stupid suits won’t rise to the bait either. I need to get it out—have a big old fistfight to unleash my frustration—and no one wants to be my opponent.
“That’s correct,” Agent Halifax replies. “But also because the finger matches a victim in one of our cases.”
I blanch. “What case?”
Agent Van Zandt takes a seat across from me, still looking every bit the uptight government suit. “We’ve been following a serial killer. There are victims spread out across the country, several in L.A. and a few in other states.”
“Your finger matches one of the killer’s victims,” Halifax confirms.
I blink stupidly. “This guy was just supposed to be an overzealous fan,” I whisper, holding my head in my hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“We’ll be working with your manager to review the evidence your previous investigator has compiled so far.” Halifax sits in a chair next to me, his green eyes studying my reaction.
Damn, he’s kind of hot, tall with sandy brown hair and an athletic build.
No. I won’t get involved with another employee. I made that mistake once and all I got was a broken heart. Forcing myself to stand, I head for the stairs. Fuck this. They ruined my buzz and now I’m crashing.
“Sorry gentlemen, I’ve just gotten home after a very trying tour. I’m going to bed. Ross,” I look over at Hawke’s uncle. “I’m sure you can show the agents out? We can talk another time.”
Without waiting for a response, I climb the stairs, feeling the weight of the last few months in every single one of my joints. I strip naked and flop onto the bed, asleep before the front door closes.
Mitch
“Mom, I’m fine. You don’t have to wait on me hand and foot,” I grumble as my mother fluffs my pillows and sets a glass of water next to the couch.
“Mitchell, stop it. I’m your mother. This is what mothers do. We take care of our children,” she tutts, continuing to adjust my blanket. “Would you like the telly on, love?”
“Mom. Stop. Can you sit? Can we just talk?”
It’s been two days since I was released from the hospital, a week and a half since the shooting. The doctors cleared me to leave, but only if I didn’t go home alone. Since I don’t know anyone in California—anyone who would want me there, I think bitterly—I ended up at my parents’ house.
“I was going to make you a bite to eat, Mitchell.”
“Mom!” She flinches at my raised voice, but bloody hell, she just won’t listen. “Please sit.”
Gingerly, my mother takes the wingback chair next to the couch. I’ve been spending my days in the family room and my nights in the bedroom that used to be mine.
“Thanks, mom.” I close my eyes. The painkillers they sent me home with make it difficult to stay awake. I tried stopping them and nearly cried the pain was so intense. Needless to say, I’ve been taking them as directed ever since that failed experiment.