Chapter 29
The law offices of Prentice Emmett felt as if his stomach had been slopped into a bucket of ice water. He stepped unconsciously toward the glass, toward the image of Georgina Hodge’s naked body laid out on an autopsy table. In the corner of the screen, a close-up of bite marks.
A pack of wild coyotes flashed up next, posed regally on a hillside of untamed sage scrub. Emmett was nonplussed.
A head turned toward Emmett and Dr. Saito’s eyes met his, as piercing as a needle in soft flesh.
He staggered back from the glass, then turned to flee down the hall.
A second later, a voice spoke behind him. “Excuse me.” Dr. Saito stood behind him, diminutive even in her thick wedges. “Can I help you?”
“No,” Emmett said. “I mean, yes, but—” He collected himself. “I was told you’d be here. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you—”
“Emmett,” she said. “Emmett Truesdale. Is that right?”
He nodded. Her sigh of frustration seemed self-directed.
“Of course, I’m so sorry. I’ve been meaning to get back to you. This week’s just been—” She craned her neck to peek into a dark, empty office. “Maybe we can talk in here.”
He nodded again, surprised but relieved by her reaction. This didn’t seem like the woman Blake had described.
Emmett followed her inside. The lights flickered on and she closed the door. Two chairs faced a large L-shaped desk. Instead of sitting behind it as he expected, she pulled one of the chairs around and they sat, facing each other.
“Again, my apologies. We had some unexpected turnover on the team that monitors the participant hotline, and things have been hectic all week.”
“Right. Sorry for barging in like this. I just—I was getting desperate.”
“Understandable.” She crossed her legs, leaned back, hands laced in her lap like a therapist’s. “So you’ve been experiencing some side effects from Obexity, is that right?”
He nodded.
“That’s not what we like to hear. I did take a peek at your health journals when I got your message, and nothing stood out as immediate cause for concern. But I want to hear more about what you’re experiencing. Please?” A request, not a demand.
Emmett opened and closed his mouth. Now the moment had come, he felt ridiculous, overdramatic. He’d jumped to conclusions.
Then he remembered the presentation.
“Sorry, I know it’s none of my business. What I just saw in there—”
Dr. Saito dropped her head, almost laughing. “I can only imagine what you must be thinking. You’re probably more freaked out now than you were before. That was a lot.”
“The people in that room—”
“Colleagues from the California Department of Fish and Wildlife. We’re in negotiations to partner on a study looking at the medicinal properties of canine saliva, particularly in wild coyotes.
You may know that canine saliva contains a peptide called epidermal growth factor, or EGF, that’s uncommonly effective at healing flesh wounds.
That’s why you’ll often see dogs licking their cuts and scrapes.
But we also think it might contain enzymes useful for weight stabilization.
Even in well-fed coyotes under human care, obesity is rarely observed. ”
“But Georgina Hodge—”
“Who?”
“The woman in the last photo,” Emmett said. “I know her. Knew her, kind of.”
“That must’ve been traumatic to see. I’m so sorry. The coyotes they think killed her are actually the ones we’re interested in studying. We believe they’re carrying abnormal levels of EGF. The bite wounds showed evidence of it, the properties I mentioned. But about your side effects.”
Emmett felt even stupider now. He almost couldn’t remember why he’d come here in the first place, why he’d been so certain that something was wrong.
“I just— I’m just a little worried about the effects of the treatment.”
Saito nodded, listening.
“I’ve been forgetting things. Like, whole parts of my day are just gone.
There are times I don’t know where I’ve been or what I’ve done, and when I come to, I find that my…
” He trailed off, gazing at his upturned palms. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, because what if it had nothing to do with the Obexity?
Acknowledging it aloud was as good as a confession.
“You find what, sorry?”
“Just that, I have this feeling that something bad’s happened. That maybe I did something I can’t remember or—”
“Hurt someone?”
Again he was afraid to admit it.
“Many participants report anxiety of that kind,” Saito said. “It’s perfectly normal, but I can only imagine how distressing that must be. We’ll keep a close eye on your health journals. Obviously Obexity is still experimental, and we’re still learning how side effects develop over time.”
He nodded compliantly.
“But let me reassure you…” She leaned forward to touch his knee. “I would never subject you or any of our participants to a treatment I wouldn’t be willing to take myself.”
Emmett snorted at what felt like a joke. “Not like you need it, though, right?”
A lift of her eyebrows suggested an inclination to disagree.
“You’re not on Obexity, are you?” Emmett said.
Dr. Saito shifted, crossing her other leg. She seemed to be formulating a response that wouldn’t get her into trouble.
“You know, I’ve always struggled to fit in,” she said finally. “I was born in Orange County, but my parents, they were Japanese immigrants. I was heavy growing up. I looked different than the other girls at school. But not like my sisters, either. You don’t see many obese Asians, even in the U.S.”
“I imagine that was difficult.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can do more than imagine.”
“I didn’t have it as bad though, probably. The expectation to be thin is so much greater for girls, women.”
“I’m not disagreeing. I’m sure you’re familiar with the writings of Susie Orbach.”
“Fat Is a Feminist Issue. I read it in college.”
“I wonder, how many books about male fatness have you read?” Saito asked. As Emmett opened his mouth to respond she added, “And I don’t mean memoirs by male comics making self-deprecating jokes about being dumb fat slobs. I mean real books. Books that aren’t just laughing at you.”
He couldn’t think of any.
“We talk about fatphobia like it only affects women, but everyone who lives on the fringes of society’s expectations knows what it feels like to be ‘other,’ to be treated as less than human.
When you’re marginalized in another way, it’s even worse.
You not only have to contend with the expectations of White America, but your marginalization, whether it’s gay male beauty standards or your Asian mom telling you that you look like a pig in a kimono. ”
Emmett laughed. “That’s harsh.”
“Tell me about it. Is it any surprise I battled my weight into my twenties? Yo-yo diets, eating disorders. Nothing worked, of course. I always knew I wanted to help people like us, which is how I ended up studying pharmacological chemistry. That’s how I first met Dr. Smith, our CSO—he was my research adviser at Allegiant before he founded Monstera.
A true visionary. When he asked if I wanted to come work for him, I jumped at the chance.
What he was working on, it sounded too good to be true.
I had to see for myself. Try it even, if I could. ”
“And did you?”
A look of wry confidentiality flitted across Saito’s face.
“You’re not still on it, are you?” Emmett said.
“On it? EmaC-8? A barely tested experimental drug without FDA approval? That would be grossly illegal, not to mention dangerous.” She slid him a sideways grin, as good as a wink.
“Either way, you understand why it’s so important for people like us to have access to a treatment like Obexity.
It’s the only thing that can save us in a country like this. ”
“That’s depressing.”
“Hugely. Pardon the pun. But it’s true.”
Not a single part of Emmett disagreed. “I never want to go back to how my life was before.”
“I know. But that’s only possible if Obexity is approved by the FDA. I understand you have medical concerns—maybe even ethical ones, which, believe me, I get it—but we can’t do this without you. All of you in the clinical trial.” She sat back. “Okay, I’ll get off my soapbox now.”
Emmett studied the floor, guilty and reluctant to press for more information. Dr. Saito hadn’t answered all his questions, but whatever trifling concerns he might have paled in comparison to the urgency of her mission and what people like him stood to lose should Obexity never see the light of day.
“No,” he said. “You’re right. This trial’s important. For all of us.”
She smiled. Her eyes crossed back to the boardroom. “I should probably get back.”
“Right. Of course.”
They stood.
“Thanks for talking to me,” Emmett said. “And sorry again for—”
“How did you find me, by the way?”
He hesitated.
“Let me guess. My trusty intern told you.” She shook her head. “Oh, Blake.”
“Don’t be too hard on him.”
“Here. Let me give you my cell in case you need to reach me. I’ll do my best to respond in a timely manner, but if I don’t, just keep bothering me.”
“Thank you.” He recorded her details in his phone.
They walked out into the hallway. “Be well,” Saito said.
She returned to the boardroom and Emmett headed for the exit.
He felt light, unburdened not only of his anxieties about the trial, but of that terrible, throttling fear he’d felt while looking through the glass.
A study of canine saliva. Of course. It was just strange enough to be true.
Except—he paused in the waiting room, remembering the mug shot of the murderer Tanya Swygert, her blood-slicked mouth so evocative of cannibalism. Had anything Saito said about the study justified the photo’s presence in the presentation?
“Heading out?” said the woman behind the desk.
Emmett looked around, surprised, before remembering the cocksure persona that had served him so well before. Hushing the dark whispers in his head, he said, “I’m late for a lunch,” and walked out.