Less Than Hero Read Online Free Page A

the conversation turns back to business.
    Vic taught math in middle school for seven years until he got fed up with a bunch of bureaucratic policies that handcuffed his ability to actually teach, so he offered to beat some sense into his new principal. It didn’t matter that Vic never physically touched anyone. The fact that he threatened his boss was enough to get him fired. While criminal assault charges were eventually dismissed, none of the school districts in New York or New Jersey wanted anything to do with him. Eventually Vic discovered the glamorous life of guinea-pigging.
    I met him a few years ago during a one-week lockdown to study the effects of several different antibiotics. Once the study was over, we went out for drinks to celebrate our payday. Vic brought along Randy, whom he’d known for about a year. Not long after that, Charlie and Frank joined the club.
    Sometimes Blaine and Isaac show up, expanding our number to seven, though they usually only make it to poker nights. More often than not, when we’re talking business, it’s just the five of us.
    “When’s the next poker game?” Charlie asks.
    “We’ll get to that in a minute,” Frank says, the patient father, his earlier rancor about Charlie’s lack of attention to detail forgotten. Or more likely shelved. Frank’s never far from his anger. He likes to keep it handy.
    All of us have been guinea pigs for at least five years, and over the past three we’ve met on a semi-regular basis to talk about recent and upcoming trials, comparing notes and grading clinics, factoring in variables such as the friendliness of the staff, how much they pay, and whether or not the receptionist and venipuncturist are hot. At least that’s one of Randy’s criteria.
    Randy blew out his knee playing pickup basketball six years ago. Since his injury wasn’t on the clock, neither of his part-time jobs—as a bouncer and working the counter at a liquor store—paid health insurance or unemployment. While he received some temporary disability payments, they weren’t enough to cover his rent. When his medical bills piled up and forced him to file for bankruptcy, one of his former coworkers told him there was easy money to be made volunteering for a testosterone study. After that, he was hooked.
    Once the business portion of the meeting is over, talk turns to poker night, which Charlie volunteers to host as Frank orders another cannoli.
    “You planning on leaving any for the rest of us?” Vic asks.
    Charlie laughs through a mouthful of cappuccino, which he sprays across the table.
    “Goddamn it, Charlie!” Frank says, wiping Charlie’s cappuccino off his face.
    “Don’t blame Charlie,” I say.
    “Yeah,” Vic says. “He’s not the one eating all the cannoli.”
    “Fine,” Frank shoves the plate away from him. “You want my cannoli? You can have my goddamned cannoli.”
    “I don’t want your cannoli,” Vic says.
    Charlie raises his hand. “Can I have your cannoli?”
    “Sure,” Frank says. “Have it all.”
    “Thanks!” Charlie says.
    While being a professional guinea pig wasn’t on my short list of dream jobs—which included professional golfer, travel writer, general manager of the Mets or Yankees, and Playboy photographer—it does offer a low-stress work environment and a flexible schedule with a minimum amount of responsibility. Plus I get to enjoy hanging out with a group of misfits like me and sharing moments like this.
    “Totally Simon and Garfunkel right now,” Randy says.
    Vic looks at Randy over the top of his glasses. “You realize nobody has any idea what you’re talking about.”
    One of the drawbacks, however—other than the risk of multiple organ failure and getting your fingers and toes amputated—is that you can’t always depend on a steady monthly income to pay the rent. And it’s hard to hold down a part-time job when you have to take three weeks off so someone can collect your blood, urine, and semen while pumping