Big Egos by S.G. Browne

Author:S.G. Browne
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Gallery Books

CHAPTER 30

“We need to talk,” I say.

“About what?” says Nat.

I almost tell Nat that I think I’m a mass murderer and that two of my coworkers have been shipped off to Metropolitan State Hospital for mental evaluation, but I don’t think this is the place.

We’re standing in line for lunch at Pink’s on La Brea a week before Thanksgiving with about three dozen other men and women, most of them in a normal state of existence—though I see Michael Jackson and Whitney Houston at the front getting ready to place their order, so not everyone’s themselves.

“We need to talk about what you’re doing,” I say.

“Can you be more specific, bro?”

“It has to do with your recent lifestyle change.”

I haven’t seen much of Nat over the past month, not since I told him I thought he had a problem with Egos. The few times I have seen him, he’s been someone else.

Robin Hood. Mickey Mantle. The Dude.

All of them are part of the EGOS product line, but Nat hasn’t been getting them from me. I tried to make peace with him by offering him some Egos I knew he’d enjoy, but he told me he didn’t want to be my charity case. And since Nat can’t afford to legally alter his identity on what he makes, that means he’s been buying his Egos on the streets of Hollywood and Los Feliz. That worries me. And not just because of the dangers of black market Egos.

While Bill Summers insists that we never had a meeting back in May, I know we did. I remember it as clearly as I remember my father’s funeral and when I met Delilah and the day I found out there was no such thing as Santa Claus. I also remember what Bill said about other EGOS employees testing the antidote on unsuspecting black market users, so I can’t take the chance that someone might target Nat. The last thing I want is for my best friend to end up on the news as another casualty.

“I’m worried about you,” I say.

“Worried? About what? I’m better than I’ve ever been.”

“I know. That’s what worries me.”

“There’s nothing to be worried about, bro.” Nat looks up at the menu. “Although I am having trouble deciding between a chili cheeseburger and a chili cheese dog.”

“I’m serious,” I say.

“So am I,” he says. “I can’t make up my mind. What are you getting?”

On the menu is an assortment of burgers, fries, and more than two dozen types of hot dogs and specials to choose from, including the Lord of the Rings Dog, the Mulholland Drive Dog, the Chicago Polish Dog, and the Bacon Chili Cheese Dog.

I can barely focus on the menu. I don’t know if it’s because I can’t stop thinking about the way Angela looked at me with her haunted eyes and asked me who she was or because it’s been more than two weeks since I’ve injected an Ego and I’m going through withdrawals, but I seem to have trouble making even the smallest of decisions.

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