The Tree of Knowledge, Daniel Miller [unputdownable books txt] 📗

with the Tree to manipulate anyone. Ying absolutely gobbled up the information, asking what it meant when a man did this or that. Albert just watched and listened in detached observation.

After Ariel and Professor Turner’s lesson was complete, Albert stood up, started to put on his windbreaker, and said, “That was interesting. Weird, but interesting.”

Ariel frowned. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To pull the car around. I assumed we were done.”

“Oh no,” said the psychiatrist with a twisted smile. “Not until you pass the test.”

“What test?”

“You’re going to get a phone number from one of these lovely young ladies,” said Turner.

“Ha, I can’t wait to see this,” said Ying.

“I wouldn’t laugh too hard, Ms. Koh. You’re going to do the same thing.”

“This is ridiculous. I’m not doing this. It won’t work,” Albert blustered, turning toward the door.

Ariel jumped up from her seat and put a long arm around Albert’s shoulders. “Albert, let’s grab a drink.”

She guided him to the bar, leaning her head toward his, and gently pulled out a barstool for him to sit on. She pulled up a stool for herself and slid her legs in a deep cross while placing a hand on Albert’s knee.

“Bartender, can we have a couple of Miller Lites?”

She turned to Albert and ran her fingers through her long blonde hair. He could smell the soft, sweet aroma of her perfume floating through the air. His face flushed and he wriggled on his barstool.

Ariel put her hand on his other knee and leaned in toward him. “Albert, I understand that you’re hesitant about this. You don’t think it will work, right?”

Albert continued to adjust himself in his chair. “No, I don’t.”

She laughed and put her hand on his shoulder. “That’s what I like about you. You’re so logical and skeptical.”

Albert smiled. He had never realized how understanding Ariel could be. “Thanks,” he said, looking at his shoes.

The bartender brought the beers over.

Ariel kept her warm gaze on Albert and slowly blinked. “Would you mind paying for these? I left my purse over at the table.”

Albert grabbed for his wallet and dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the bar, eager to return to his conversation with Ariel.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” said Albert, looking deep into her eyes.

Ariel’s smile dropped to a frown as she cracked him across the face with her open hand.

“What was that?” cried the incredulous academic, placing his palm on his steaming-hot cheek.

Ariel rose from her chair and poked him in the chest with her pointed finger. “First, I told you to never buy a woman a drink. And second, I think I’ve just demonstrated that this stuff works. Now, here’s a napkin and a pen. Draw yourself a tree and figure out how you’re going to get a phone number.”

Stunned, Albert looked back at their table. Ying had already risen—tiara perched atop her head—and was making her way to a group of men at another high table. As he watched Ariel return to the table, Albert noticed that Turner was just sitting there observing him with a look of fatherly hope in his eyes.

Taking a long swig of his Miller Lite and carefully placing the large pink boa on his shoulders, Albert diagrammed a tree on his napkin and pivoted to the scene in front of him. Am I really going to do this? He looked around the square-shaped bar and immediately could feel his body freezing up. Every one of these women is way out of my league. They’re not going to buy any of this crap. His eyes scanned the bar and finally landed on one woman. She was a petite girl with milky skin, green eyes, and strawberry-blonde hair. Two friends stood by her side, and she seemed to be laughing at one of them. She had an impish, warm, inviting smile, and the freckles on her cheeks seemed to dance when she grinned. She reminded him of Ying.

But try as he might, Albert couldn’t move from his stool. He just sat there, hunched over the bar like a stone statue. He sipped on his Miller Lite and attempted to look cool, which made him look depressed. He could feel Turner’s and Ariel’s eyes burning into the back of his skull, urging him to act. But still, he couldn’t. Ariel had warned him about this. She called it “approach anxiety” and explained that the way to avoid it was to follow the three-second rule, which meant that once he saw an interesting woman, he should approach her within three seconds or he would start to freeze up. Albert realized that probably a full minute had gone by since he had set eyes on the strawberry blonde, and his body now seized up like it had been hanging in a meat locker for the last two hours.

To make matters worse, as he looked around the room unable to move, he saw Ying having the time of her life. Albert watched as the table of three men hung on Ying’s every word, oblivious to the rest of the room. And Ying was doing everything Ariel had told her. Playfully touching their arms. Laughing. Tossing her hair. And it was working. Each man seemed to be subtly and not so subtly vying for her attention, elbowing each other to talk to her.

Ying’s success heightened Albert’s sense of impotence. He realized that he was playing a game he could not win. But just as he pushed out his barstool to turn tail back to Turner and Ariel in humiliation, he felt a playful tug on his feather boa.

“Well, isn’t this the most ridiculous thing I ever saw,” said the strawberry-blonde woman with a gentle Southern drawl.

“Yeah, I know,” said Albert sheepishly.

“I was headed to the ladies’ room, and I saw you sittin’ here with that boa on, and I just had to see what that was all about.”

Albert debated simply telling the woman the truth, but remembered the next step he wrote down in his tree. Haltingly, he delivered his