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“Geoff? What’s wrong? Come in.”
The door buzzes and I go inside.
I wait in the foyer, and a minute later, Charlie comes stumbling down the stairs in a bathrobe.
“My God, Geoff. You look awful. Why are you dressed like that?”
“It’s a long story. Let’s go to your office.”
“All right,” Charlie says, and I follow him into a room off the front hall. Inside, he closes the door and turns to me.
“Now. What’s the emergency?”
I let the glamour fade. It takes Charlie’s sleepy eyes a few seconds to catch on to what’s happening.
“Oh, dear God.”
“God’s got his hands full, Charlie. It’s just you and me.”
I push him into a chair. He stays put.
I put my hands in my pockets.
“Geoff Burgess is dead. I killed him about an hour ago.”
“Oh God.”
“Stop saying that and pay attention.”
“Yes. Of course. What is it you want?”
I sit on the edge of the desk.
“What’s black milk? And be careful. I’ll know if you’re lying.”
Charlie squints, like the question hurts.
“Youth. Freedom from disease and time. Immortality.”
This garbage again.
“I know immortals, Charlie. None of them are happy about it.”
“They aren’t us, are they? We have plenty to do and we’ll have all the time in the world to do it.”
“Because of black milk?”
“Yes.”
“Show me.”
I take out the syringe. Charlie holds on to
the arms of his chair like it’s a lifeboat. I bring it over to him.
“Don’t ask where I got it. It’s from your car, shithead.”
I don’t even think he hears me.
