The hospital was right ahead. Derrick stopped by the fast food joint that Nathan often stopped by, and sat down in the back, setting down the beer that he bought for Nathan. He checked his phone. It was 9:23 am, and Nathan hadn’t responded to any text messages, but then again, he often showed up unannounced.

Ten minutes passed, then Derrick ordered a drink so the manager would stop glaring at him, and then another ten minutes passed. Nathan Freedman finally showed up at the glass double doored entrance, dressed in his scrubs, and glancing side to side. Derrick waved at him. “Hey, over here.”

Nathan came over, taking his sweet time. “Heyyy, if it isn’t Derrick. Long time no see.” The booth table creaked as he sat down and leaned on it, massaging his temples with both hands.

“Nathan,” Derrick whispered. “I’m glad to see you. I’ve got some more stuff that needs to be cleaned.”

“Fuck, my headache is killing me. Gimme a minute.” He scrunched up his face, and contorted it back and forth, like he was trying to itch something on his nose without using his hands. Derrick was surprised Nathan could function in the hospital like this, but he had somehow held down this job despite years of hangovers, or so he claimed. Derrick had only known him for a year when he came in for a tune-up on his ‘blue tooth’ mod. “Actually, are you hungry, Derrick? Cause I’m starving. I’m gonna order something.”

“Sure, sure. Go ahead. I’m fine.”

Nathan got in the ordering line, standing right behind the woman ahead of him, who gave him a nasty look, and scooted forwards.

How long was his break for? Or how long could he sneak out for? It was already 9:46, and there was no way Derrick was going back to the office with unsterilized cochlear implant receivers.

Nathan was arguing with the woman at the cash register.

“Hey, Nathan, you all done?” Derrick called. He went to the edge of the line, to hear what all the commotion was about.

“Well how come you didn’t charge that guy for the honey mustard?” Nathan said, gesturing at a customer who glanced back at the scene while hurrying out the door with his take-out bag. “And now you want to charge me for honey mustard? It’s the exact same condiment, why am I getting charged?”

“Sir, you asked for ten packets, he only asked for one packet.”

“If one packet is free, how come ten packets isn’t? Ten is just one times ten.”

“Ten is too much! What do you even need ten packets for?”

“It’s cause I’m Black, isn’t it! Why are you treating the Black man differently?”

A middle aged man, whose tie draped over his beer gut, came up to the front, and put a hand on the employee’s shoulder.

“What’s the problem here?”

“This bi—, she’s trying to charge me for some honey mustard, when no one else is getting charged—”

“—Don’t disrespect my employees like that—”

“—No one else is asking for ten packets—”

This could only put Nathan in a worse mood, and Derrick needed him in a good mood. “—Hey, mister Manager.” Derrick cut in and pushed past Nathan to the counter. The middle-aged man looked up at Derrick in surprise, and then in disgust.

“Can’t you see I’m busy? Sit your freak ass down, or wait your turn.” The cooks in the back were hooting and hollering, watching the showdown.

“I want ten packets. I’ll pay for them.”

“Oh, hell no. Why are you letting them charge you for honey mustard? That shit should be free.”

“It should be if I was paying for food, but I just want the packets. How much are they?”

The manager’s mustache was practically bristling at this point, and his ruddy face was getting redder. “If you want to order something, get back in line. If you’re here to cause trouble, get out.”

“Look, I don’t any trouble. Let’s just solve this as fast as we can, alright? Hey, back there,” Derrick gestured toward the cash register woman, who was whispering to another employee, “how much is the honey mustard?”

“Forty cents.”

“Alright, here you go.” Derrick handed the manager four dollars in cash, and then grabbed a ten packets of honey mustard from behind the counter. “Come on, let’s go Nathan.”

“Yeah, get the fuck outta here,” the manager growled.

“I’m not done with these assholes.”

Derrick held Nathan away from the counter as the man in scrubs tried to circle around and push Derrick out of the way. “They’re not worth your time,” Derrick said in a hushed voice. “They’re . . . they’re just a bunch of racists, come on, let’s go.” He was trying to appeal to Nathan to calm him down, but really, ten honey mustard packets? Derrick would probably have probably charged for that too.

“That’s right, you hear that? You’re all fucking racists,” Nathan shouted, cracking up as Derrick pushed him back towards their seats.

“You’re disturbing the other customers. You need to leave,” the manager shouted out in response. “Jeremy, get them outta here.” The tall employee mopping the floor shrugged his shoulders and started moving towards Derrick.

“We’re leaving! Just hold on, let me get my stuff.”

Derrick grabbed his jacket and pushed Nathan, who was laughing and flipping the bird, out of the door.

#

“Well, I guess I’m never going back there again,” Derrick said. The streets were full of people now: stragglers late to work, tourists pointing up at the skyscrapers, and young people browsing the shops.

Nathan dunked his burger in a packet of honey mustard before taking a bite and mmming in appreciation. He coughed mid chew, and kept coughing while fighting to keep the food in his mouth, until he swallowed and dipped the burger in the honey mustard packet again. “Don’t even worry about it,” he said, clearing his throat. “No one ever works long at these fast food joints. And the manager won’t remember, believe me—Oh, well I guess it’s hard to forget your face.”

Yeah, you think? “Sure . . . . Anyways, let’s get out of the street.” They walked out of the neon lights into an alleyway, which was practically empty. There was something weird to Derrick about a clean alleyway after working at Tony’s place, where the trash could pile up as tall as a man. Well, mostly clean, anyway. Derrick accidentally kicked a crushed up soda can, sending it bouncing, the harsh metallic sound echoing between the alley walls.

Once they had gotten far enough from the street, Derrick reached into his bag and pulled out the padded carrying case. “Here’s the stuff that needs to get sterilized.” He put it on the ground, since Nathan’s hands were filled with food. “And here, is a thank you gift.” He pulled out the beer can, and put it on the ground as well.

Nathan wiped his hands on the wrapper and tossed it over his shoulder, and then crouched down and set his bag of food on the ground. “And thank you indeed. Although, I’m gonna need a little more this time.”

“More? What do you mean?”

“My ‘blue tooth’ has been giving me issues, and I need a tune up.”

“Again? Wait, what is that—” Derrick hadn’t noticed before, but Nathan was holding the partial fake tooth veneer in one hand as he was eating. “Nathan, you’re supposed to wear the cover while you eat. Didn’t I tell you before?”

“It’s uncomfortable.”

“You’re damaging the mod! And the cover can’t shield your ‘blue tooth’ from detection if you don’t wear it.” Detection would be a big problem. Nathan’s tooth mod was made to warn him if cops were in the vicinity while he was slinging magic mushrooms: his ‘side hustle,’ as he called it. Although it didn’t actually use Bluetooth technology, it was able to receive a wireless signal from a remote server that used AI to parse police radio scanner activity, and then vibrate the tooth if it determined that Nathan was too close to the cops. Tony, unfortunately, started calling it a ‘blue tooth,’ because he thought it was funny, so the name stuck.

“A man’s gonna eat how he wants to eat, and you can’t tell him otherwise. That’s why I have eggheads like you, right? To fix shit when it breaks.”

“Nathan, listen. I don’t want you to get caught for having a police scanner in your mouth, because that’s not good for either of us.”

“Can you get me a more comfortable cover then?”

“That’s the only one they make—”

“—I’m not wearing that thing; it’s like having a wedgie in your mouth.” Nathan cracked open the beer and guzzled it down between bites of honey mustard drenched french fries.

“Okay. I’ll see if we can get you fitted for a custom one. But you have to pay for it, and the fitting. And I’m charging you for the parts for this repair too. I can’t keep fixing your mod for free if it breaks this often.”

“Almost fair . . . . I’ll pay for the parts, but you cover the rest of the job. I’ve been bustin’ my ass to get your shit in the sterilizer without anyone seeing, so you owe me.”

“I’ll give you a discount on labor. That’s all I can do.”

Nathan crushed up the can and tossed it down the alley. “Fine, deal then. You drive a hard bargain, man.” He wiped his hands on his pants and picked up the case. “I’ll be back here in a couple hours, gotta wait for the next sterilizer cycle that’s coming up.” He grabbed his food bag and got up, before looking Derrick in the eye with a grin. “By the way, thanks for that back in the fast food joint. I’m always cranky in the morning after I have too much to drink. This is for you.” He held the open food bag out.

There was a pile of french fries and way too many packets of honey mustard at the bottom. Well, free food was free food, and he had paid for the sauce packets anyway. Derrick took the bag.

“Thanks Nathan, see you back here in a few hours.”