Future Man Josh Hutcherson Chair Novels & Stories

But the man behind the chair turned around and everything changed. His name was Alex. Tall, broad shoulders under a tight black tee, arms covered in dark tattoos that disappeared under the sleeves. His hair was messy on purpose, dark waves falling over one eye, and when he smiled at Jake, it was slow and knowing, like he already saw more than just the haircut needed. “Hey man, you’re up,” Alex said, voice low and easy. “Take the chair.”

Jake The man tied to the chair clenched his jaw when Jake opened the door and stepped inside. Nitro and K-9 were seated a few feet away from him, talking in low voices, each with a beer in their hands. “Wrath,” Nitro said. “I appreciate you keeping him alive,” Jake said. “So, it’s true. You’re not patched but you’re affiliated with these fucking Warriors,” the man said, and spat on the floor. The patch on his vest read ‘Pusher’ and ‘Member’.

“Where is Patrick?” “He just went to the bathroom,” a short, balding man led the way with the round of his stomach, holding out his hand and nudging Jacinta to the side. “I’m Howard Mann, Producer for Rideten at Eight. That’s Christine, my sound tech, and Lucas, my cameraman.”

I heard from across the room. The voice was gruff, like a heavy smoker. It was a thick, Russian voice which was no surprise. I lowered my feet and spun around in the chair to see a very large man, easily 6’3 and 250lbs of solid muscle. He was wearing a suit that probably cost thousands and was perfectly tailored to his body. He was clean shaven and had barely two inches of dark brown hair, meticulously styled. Several large rings on his fingers quickly caught my eye. Inconspicuous weapons, and something every foster kid is all too familiar with. “It’s a nice chair, but that’s about the only use I have for it,” I said, getting up and moving it back behind the desk.

The room practically oozed old money and corporate power. Jaxson sat in the chair right next to him, still in his bulky hockey pants and jersey, looking utterly out of place but completely unbothered. He leaned back, his long legs stretched out in front of him, tapping his fingers against the polished mahogany table. At the head of the table stood Mr. Sterling, the billionaire owner of the New York Warriors. He wasn't looking at them; he was staring at a massive television screen that was currently broadcasting a sports entertainment segment breaking down the "rink collision."

She kept staring at the screen, fidgeting with her hands. But then, curiosity and frustration got mixed up in some bad ratio and she ended up slamming on the spacebar. The video was made from a distance, but she could tell from the sound of his laughter that the man sitting across the desk was no one but Josh. Her brother. “Mr Fitzgerald wants you to back off from that deal,” Josh said, legs crossed and eyes staring at the man who looked so much like Simon. His back was turned to the camera, but for some reason, she could tell it was him.

“It’s gone. It isn’t coming back.” “You’re not helping.” Murph sighs. I roll my eyes. Adrian Murphy—Murph, as we call him—is our best friend. He is the General Manager of Joshua’s company, good looking, young, and as gay as all hell. He is forever the optimist and finds a silver lining in every event. “It’s backed to the cloud, though, right?” Joshua asks. “It’s not that bad.” “There is only one number on that whole fucking phone that I want. It is not in the cloud.”

Zane held our chair so we could sit down then took a seat in the chair next to us. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare the little one. This big dope sitting next to you isn't just my third in command, he's my cousin. I wasn't really being mean, I was messing around with him. So I'm assuming you're Jameson and this little guy must be Joshua. Is that correct?" "Yes sir, I'm Jameson and this is our mate Joshua. He is one of the omegas we rescued." "Your face doesn't look familiar, This says, your a year out of training, is that correct?"

Just like his father, he appeared apathetic as he arrived at his designated seat. Silence allotted enough time before voices go went back and forth. The huge place suddenly felt so rigid. There’s a suffocating feeling inside, and if ever someone brought a match and stick, a single stroke will put the whole place in fire. That was, however, solved when the door opened again. A tall and handsome man opened the door widely while smiling dearly at the Hong’s guests. Then in the door, there stood the leader of the organization, Joshua Hong. “Looks like everyone is already here,” Joshua said, carrying two brown envelopes. “I’m sorry for being late. I had to make sure I didn’t forget to bring what

I say with a straight face, staring her straight I the eye as if five million dollars is an amount people withdraw everyday. She blanches "I'll fetch the manager" She scurries out and I sink into the chair A middle-aged man makes his way into the room. He has receding hairline and his hair is jet black but he's wearing a black charcoal suit and matching. He looks quite expensive with his shoe that looks like the work of a designer. He holds out his hand "Mrs Trevalyan. I'm Will Kent" "Nice to meet you" I shake the hand he held out.