The Other Guy Read Online Free PDF Page A

sealed me out of her life.
Satisfied, I released the breath, and carried on my way.
As I walked out of my room and past the restaurant, I remembered suddenly that morning's unexpected meeting with Nate, the potential organ harvester, and his tip about the night market. Market implied food, so I made a quick stop at the front desk to ask for directions and was on my way.
It didn't disappoint. Lit by street lamps, colorful lanterns and generators, the long street, blocked off from vehicles larger than motorbikes, was a riot of rich sounds and smells, most distinctly of deep-fried deliciousness. A light haze of smoke hung in the air from a hundred different cooking fires, stalls upon stalls of vendors hawking things I had never seen in my life, let alone put in my mouth.
Paralyzed by the sheer amount of choice, I bought nothing and instead kept walking and gawking, mentally keeping a list of all the things I might consider ingesting. A few vendors lacking in custom called out their wares, tried to catch my eye with wide smiles and friendly gestures as I moved past.
"Hey!"
I walked on, inspecting each stall's displays from a safe distance; get too close and I might feel obligated to buy up the whole street.
"Hey, Chicago!"
I paused. Weird.
A hand tapped my shoulder, and I turned. "Oh," I said, simultaneously glad to see an almost familiar face and worried that I was about to make a charitable donation to the organ black market. "Oh, it's you."
Nate grinned at me, somehow managing to dim the fluorescent light bulbs immediately adjacent to us. "Hey. Emory, right?"
"Yeah. Hey. Nate," I said. "What are you doing here?"
"I love this place," he said, radiating enthusiasm. "Different awesome thing to eat every night. Hey, have you eaten yet?"
"Ahh, no...?"
Probably should've said yes. I glanced around stealthily, making a note of all possible escape routes.
"Oh, man, you have to try this place," Nate said. He looked over to his left, getting on sneakered toes to peer over the heads of the crowd, even though he was taller than most everyone there. His face lit up as he spotted what he was looking for. "Yeah, there it is. Come on."
He took me by the arm and started walking us toward a stall, I didn't know which one. I looked at his fingers clasped around my arm as we moved through the throng. "Okay... So, this is happening..." I muttered to myself.
A thought suddenly occurred to him, and Nate stopped. It apparently wasn't to let go, however. He glanced at me somewhat warily. "Are you allergic to seafood or anything?"
"Um," I said, shaking my head. "Not that I know of."
"Excellent," he said, and pulled me along again.
I can't say why I didn't just shake him off; maybe it was the relief of having had a dinner decision made for me, or the sheer curiosity of finding out what was going to happen next. Nate was... interesting; he seemed like the kind of guy to which things happened that would then make incredible stories for dinner parties.
I was not that kind of guy. I moved through life carefully, always a few cautious steps behind the action, waiting and assessing. Maybe that was why I was tolerating Nate's exuberant charge tonight, to be something different.
We didn't end up too far from where we started, standing in line at a stall, behind a group of three girls. I leaned over to try to peek around them at what the stall was selling. There were things on a stick, which was about all I could make out, since the people in front were crowding around, and any signage available was all in Thai.
"What are you making me eat?" I asked.
As the group in front of us handed their money over and began moving away, Nate pointed to a stick in one of the girls' hands, atop which was perched something dark brown with char marks from the grill. "That," he said happily.
"Uh," I said. "That looks kind of like--"
"Baby octopus, yeah," he said, and gestured to the woman behind the stall that he wanted two.
I watched with trepidation the hawker retrieve two