AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Elliot
Everything one needs to know about what it’s like to do my job can be learned from Asimov. His most famous series introduced readers to a concept called Psychohistory. Summed up, the theory states that while you can’t predict the actions of a particular individual, the laws of statistics applied to large groups of people can predict the general flow of future events.
So, not particularly useful when it comes to figuring out what it will take to win your wife back. But when applied to a thing like revenge…well, that seems a little easier. People seek revenge every day. Probably, most wives never come back.
But then most husbands aren’t like me. They don’t understand the amount of calculation it takes. Most people want a quick fix. Which is good. It keeps me and the rest of Big Pharma in business. Tonight, on that front, I have a decision to make. To accept the offer for my latest formula or to hold out for something better.
But first, food. While I’m awaiting my filet, I sample the crowd. Getting paid to determine how a group of people will react to certain chemicals, particularly in clinical trials, drives everything I do. To understand this, it helps to understand human behavior.
I find observing from afar produces the best results. Watching people when they don’t know you’re watching tends to offer the purest sample. This way you can see the difference between what they say and what they actually do. Life can only be curated to the extent that you know your audience is watching.
Tonight, in addition to my filet, I get the pleasure of watching my neighbor Mrs. Dunn enjoying dinner with a male companion. I study her body language. I’m curious to see if she’s as hard with everyone else as she is on me.
Her back is straight; her shoulders are squared. She isn’t soft. But she isn’t unfriendly either.
Never take score too soon. I can hear my father speak as clearly as though he was perched on my left shoulder. But I don’t want to think about him; he wants me to take the deal despite his advice. Even if I brought it up, he’d find a way to spin it in his favor. Stealing a few plays from his playbook wouldn’t be a bad idea.
There’s time for that. In the meantime, my steak has arrived. The place is packed tonight, regulars mostly. But it’s still quiet enough that I can listen in on individual conversations. The man on the piano has gone on break.
As I cut up my filet, I dial in on the conversation in the booth next to mine. I tell myself I’ll stay for just one set when the piano resumes, and then I’ll turn in for the night. Sitting here keeps me from doing other things I shouldn’t. Things like visiting my old neighborhood, tailing my wife’s lover, scrolling Instalook.
The voices next to me grow louder. When I strain to get a better look, I can see that it’s a pair of twenty-somethings, arguing. “Come on, let’s just go upstairs,” the guy says urgently. “For old times’ sake.”
She isn’t firm with her voice or her body language, but she tells him no. I don’t know what it is with women. There is nothing wrong with a hard no. Clear lines. Boundaries.
If this particular woman would have had those, what was about to happen might have been stopped sooner. But then again, it might not have. It’s difficult to say with such a small sample. There are always considerations to take in. Like how many times she’s said yes before, when what she really meant was no. That’s how he will know how much pressure to use, how hard to push.
It doesn’t make it right.
But it does
make the outcome predictable.
It’s human nature to take what we can get where we can get it.
I understand now—that’s why Emily is doing this. She warned me. If only I’d listened before.
Next to me, voices are raised higher. The girl threatens to leave. He orders her another drink.
She tells him she is not going up to his apartment. She has to work in the morning.
He counters with something I don’t make out. I’m forced to lean in closer. He grabs her wrist. She tries to pull away but can’t. She starts to cry. He holds on, tightens his grip.
I can see it was smart to let Emily go. It’ll be easier to get her back.
It takes two and a half steps until I’m standing in front of their table. Sometimes it’s easier to deal with other people’s problems rather than face your own.
“I’m pretty sure she told you no,” I say to the guy.
He looks up at me, his eyes narrowed. “What’s it to you?”
“She said she doesn’t want to go upstairs. Let go of her.”
“Fuck off.”
I glare at the woman, clearly only a girl now that I have a better look. “Come on,” I offer, reaching for her hand. “I’ll walk you out.”
She looks at her friend and then back at me. She doesn’t know what to say. But she doesn’t budge, either.
