Resist (Sphere of Irony 3)

“Yeah! It’s going to be so fucking awesome!” I can hear him talking to someone in the background and a bunch of cheers rise up. He’s invited other people.

“Sounds fun, but I’d have to bring my entourage of yetis,” I remind him.

“Shit,” he grumbles. “I forgot.”

“It wouldn’t be any fun with them tagging along.” Not the way Hawke parties. “You go. I’ll talk to you when you get back.”

“Dude, this sucks. They need to fucking catch this asshole,” Hawke snarls. “It’s vacation time. No album, no tours, no recording we need to worry about.”

“I know. They’re working on it. Catch ya later.”

I hang up, annoyed that once again, my life is ruined by the nameless, faceless asshole that’s terrorizing me.

“Friend or boyfriend?”

I jump, unaware that Agent Halifax was standing right behind me.

“Shit!” I scowl at the man and step back. “What the fuck?”

“Sorry,” he smirks, not looking at all sorry. “Was that a friend or a boyfriend?” the man repeats.

What the—? I’ve had enough of Agent Asshat.

“None of your fucking business,” I snap. This asshole has some nerve. “I’m going out soon, so I’ll need you to leave.”

Agent Halifax acts as if nothing that just occurred was the least bit strange. “No problem. We’ll contact you when we know more.” He brushes his hand through his hair and winks.

My eyes must bulge out of my head. I was put off before, but now I’m fuming from his unprofessional behavior. I’m about to tear him a new ass when he opens the front door and leaves.

What in the ever-loving fuck was that?

Mitch

“Mom, no, I’m fine.”

I roll my eyes and sag onto my new couch, letting my head lay back. It smells like the furniture store. I hate it.

“Mitchell, you’re not fine. I hear it in your voice.”

My mother’s newest goal is to fix my pathetic love life. Specifically, get Gavin and me back together.

“Stop, mom. It’s over. I know you met him at the hospital and bonded or something, but you have to let it go.”

“Sorry, love,” she whispers, properly chastised. “I only want you happy.”

“No,” I sigh. “I’m sorry, mom. I know you mean well. I just…” I swallow thickly. “I can’t talk about him, okay?”

“Okay,” she sniffs. “Don’t be a stranger, Mitchell.”

“I won’t, mom. Love you.”

“Love you, son.”

I hang up the phone and toss it onto the cushion, letting my eyes drift shut. My injuries have kept me from working out and I was only just cleared to begin light exercise, so my energy level has been low. Maybe I should walk on the treadmill for a while.

A loud knocking at my front door wakes me from my dozing. I must have fallen asleep on the couch. I’m not even halfway to the foyer when the pounding starts again.

Jesus! “Hold on!”