"Paige, we all know that I'm the logical choice here!" Mike exclaims and slams his hands against the granite of the kitchen countertop.
"No, Mike. It's my operation and I am telling you that I don't want you on this team." Paige pushes back the bar stool and matches Mike's pose with her slender fingers spread next to her plate of eggs and toast.
Their roommate breakfast started amicable as always, Johnny joking about how their best breakfast was still from the daughter of Hector's Tacos, Charlie arguing how she is a better cook, Jakes making an attempt to bring Johnny down a notch by choosing Charlie's side. A ping from Paige's laptop interrupted the carefree fun and forced some gravity into their kitchen. Her operational timeline was moved forward by the higher-ups in the DEA and now she has to make up for it.
Paige was tasked with going under with a notorious drug kingpin in Southern California who specialized in XO, a combination of ecstasy and oxycontin that only served to get more popular by some rapper. Oxy was a sensitive topic around the house, and Mike was more than capable of sensing that.
"Guys, I don't need fucking kid gloves. It's been a year. I had an addiction. I cleaned up. Now I don't have an addiction," Mike tries to reason but notices his voice was too aggressive to sound reasonable. He looks to Charlie for support, the only one of the housemates that could even look him in the eyes. The men seem suspiciously interested in clearing their plates as quickly as possible.
"It's her call, Mikey," Charlie soothes but her velvety deep tone only annoys him now. He can hear the hesitation in her voice; she really wants to support him, but under it all, the choice really is Paige's and Paige's alone. He can't fault Charlie for knowing that and believing in that, but he's still bothered.
Mike throws his hands in the air as he realizes he's already lost. Paige keeps the stern look on her face and shakes her head. Mike turns and stalks out of the kitchen, slamming the side of his fist into the metal of the refrigerator. The noise startles everyone, but they don't make a move to follow him out the door.
Briggs is the first to break the silence. "He's right, you know."
Paige lets out a sigh, "Et tu, Brute?"
"Our XO dealer is expecting you to have a military connection. That's how you're getting the oxy, remember?" Briggs asks in a condescending voice and Paige rolls her eyes. "Mike is the most cut out to be military. He's used that cover before and he's good at it."
Paige drains the last of her coffee and tosses her dishes haphazardly in the sink. She's already put a request through to the DEA for a clean-cut undercover operative, but they told her it could take a few weeks. She had five days until her meet with the dealer and was trying to think about her options. She originally asked Johnny, but his cover with the Malaysians would interfere with the timeline. Mike was the logical choice, and she couldn't be any less happy about that.
"Fine. Okay, fine," Paige concedes and grabs her running jacket from the back of her chair. "I'll be with him the whole time, but if he relapses, this shit isn't on me."
She's out the door with her Nike's on before she realizes that's a lie. If Mike relapsed, it would still be on her. No matter how much time passed or how many times he forgave her, there is always a black inkling of self-loathing, knowledge that it is all her fault.
Kicking up the same sand Mike had minutes ago, Paige sets a steady jogging pace towards Mike's sun-lit figure down the coast.
Author's Note: Title is from Cold War by Janelle Monae. This story will be multi-chapter. Thank you for reading and reviewing!
