Free Replay by Marc Levy

Olson. If I was as useless as you I’d have my doubts too.”
    “Very funny. But that wasn’t what I meant, Stilman. Don’t act stupider than you are.”
    “So what
did
you mean, Olson?”
    “Think about it. Stilman, Stern . . . both Jewish?”
    Andrew stared at Olson. He remembered that in his previous life—the idea was so absurd he was still having trouble getting his head around it—this argument with Olson had happened much earlier in the day; Olivia had still been in her office. But she wasn’t there this time around. Like most of his other colleagues, she had left at least half an hour ago, around 6 P.M . Andrew’s actions seemed to be altering the order of things, and he decided he might as well take advantage of it. He gave Olson a resounding slap. Olson reeled back and stared at him, mouth agape.
    “Shit, I could make a formal complaint, Stilman,” he threatened, rubbing his cheek. “There are security cameras all over this floor.”
    “Go right ahead. I’d be happy to explain why you got slapped. I’m sure that particular video would go viral pretty fast.”
    “You won’t get off that easy!”
    “Try me. Anyway, I’m off—I’ve got to be somewhere else, and you’ve made me waste enough time as it is.”
    Andrew grabbed his jacket and walked over to the elevator, giving Olson—who was still standing there holding a hand to his cheek—the finger as he went. He found himself swearing as the elevator descended to the ground floor, but told himself he’d better calm down before he met Valerie. He’d have a hard time explaining to her what had just happened.
     
    * * *
     
    Seated at the counter of the Japanese restaurant in SoHo, Andrew listened to Valerie’s chatter distractedly. Then again, he had the excuse of already knowing the content of her entire conversation. While she told him about her day, he was thinking hard about how he could make the most of the troubling situation he was in.
    He bitterly regretted that he had always been so indifferent to the financial news. If he had shown even the slightest interest in it, he could have made a killing on the stock market right now. If only he had memorized a few stock prices for the next few weeks—or rather the past few weeks, as far as he was concerned—he could have invested his savings and made himself a tidy sum. But he had always found Wall Street and its excesses a total bore.
    “You’re not listening to a word I’m saying,” said Valerie accusingly. “What are you thinking about?”
    “You’ve just told me that Licorice, one of your favorite horses, has a bad case of tendinitis, and that you’re worried it’s the end of her career with the mounted police. You also said that Officer Thingy who rides her would never get over it if they declared his horse unfit for service.”
    Valerie looked at Andrew, speechless.
    “What?” he asked. “Isn’t that exactly what you’ve just been telling me?”
    “No, it’s exactly what I was just about to tell you. What’s with you today? Did you swallow a crystal ball at breakfast or something?”
    Andrew forced himself to smile.
    “You might be more absentminded than you think, you know,” he said. “I’m just repeating what you told me. How could I have known all that stuff?”
    “That’s exactly what I’m asking you!”
    “Maybe you were thinking so loud I heard you even before you said it. Just goes to show how closely we’re connected,” he said, putting on his most disarming smile.
    “You phoned the surgery and got Sam, and he told you everything,” she said.
    “I don’t know any Sam, and I didn’t call your office.”
    “Sam’s my assistant.”
    “See, I don’t have a crystal ball. I was sure he was called John,” he said. “Can we change the subject?”
    “How was
your
day?”
    The question gave Andrew pause for thought. He had died when he was out running this morning; he had come to life again shortly afterwards around a mile away from where he’d