Going Viral: A Thriller by Dustin Stevens

Author:Dustin Stevens [Stevens, Dustin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-09-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Six

Friday, March 23rd, 2012

3:43 pm

“James Buchanan has a tattoo.”

The way Quasi says it makes me believe for almost a second that this is truly his motivation. Somewhere deep inside, he isn’t dying for me to do something permanently altering for the sake of advancing this endeavor.

Or more importantly, his attachment to it.

“So?” I snap, waving my hands as he turns sideways and perches himself on the front counter.

“And get your ass off there,” I say, shoving his bulk away and wiping the spot he’d been sitting with a damp towel. “This isn’t your basement. People eat off this counter.”

The customer standing in front of the register turns and stares at both of us a moment, her eyes cast downward as she tries to pretend she’s not listening. I glare at Quasi and shake my head, signaling for him to remain silent while she waits.

It takes him a moment to understand the signal before he falls quiet, both of us casting glances until her food arrives and she scurries away.

“Don’t you think Chaz should get a tattoo?” Quasi asks, his attention aimed at Pamela behind the counter.

Ten years our junior, Pamela is just finishing her last few months at Franklin High. She is painfully skinny with thin hair and a high forehead, though she seems blissfully unaware of it. Her garish Bob’s shirt is outfitted with dozens of bedazzled implements. Matching necklaces and bracelets cover most of her exposed skin.

“Who’s Chaz?” she asks, scrunching her face up a bit.

Palpitations pass through me as my eyes grow large, shifting to Quasi. Creating an online persona was one thing. Doing a few stupid things for the sake of building a following wasn’t exactly my idea of fun, but it went along with that persona. I could see the connection and even if it meant I got beat up a little, it was a worthy cause.

Bringing this enterprise into my place of business, trying to get me to do something like get a tattoo, is quite another.

“Chaz?” Quasi asks, his face contorted a bit. “I said Charles. Where did Chaz come from?”

The save is poor at best, though Pamela doesn’t seem to notice. She accepts the explanation with a shrug and turns to me. “You’re thinking about getting a tattoo?”

“No,” I respond, shaking my head emphatically, “I am not.”

“Like I said-,” Quasi begins, cut off by a withering gaze.

Across from us, Pamela holds out her thumb and forefinger on either hand, using the digits to form a rectangle. She positions it over me and closes one eye as if focusing on the sight.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” she says, “I can’t really see it. You don’t strike me as the tattoo type.”

For just a moment I let the glare pull back from Quasi, turning my attention to Pamela.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

For the third time, she shrugs, her head tilting to the side.

“The guys at school that have tattoos, they’re all athletes or bikers or whatever. None of the normal guys have them.”

“And I’m a normal guy?” I ask, indignation rising a bit.

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