The Boy Next Door - Weebly

Trent--just two slices of bread with nothing in the middle (on account of you not showing
up to the "interviews"). Why don't you come out here to visit with Stace and the girls?
We'd love to have you, and you haven't met your namesake yet. What do you say?
J
To: Jason Trent
From: John Trent
Subject: Thanks for the offer
Mim made a similar one. But I prefer to stay here and fester in my own self-made hell.
I can't say it hasn't been interesting. I can't even go down to the corner deli to buy milk
without the guy behind the counter offering to introduce me to his daughter. Much as I
try to claim the story about my search for a bride isn't true, people just don't seem to
want to believe it. They like the idea of a guy being rich enough to have anything in the
world except the one thing he really wants...the love of a good woman. Of course, whenever
I attempt to explain that I had that, too, but that I managed to louse it up, people *really*
don't want to hear it. It's like they can't comprehend the fact that rich does not equal happy.
It hasn't been too bad, really. I've been getting a lot of work done on my novel. It's funny,
though. I actually miss that stupid dog. The cats, too. I've been thinking about getting one. A
dog, I mean. Or maybe a cat. I don't know. I don't seem to be fit to associate with humans. Not
that I don't keep on trying, though. I've been sending Mel flowers every day--even the day
after the column appeared. But do I hear squat from her? Not a word.
I imagine the sidewalk outside the office of the New York Journal is littered with all the
floral arrangements of mine that she's heaved out the window.
Got to go. My Chinese food--for one--is here.
John
To: Mel Fuller
From: John Trent
Subject: You got me.
All right? Are you satisfied? That column caused me untold embarrassment. They still
won't let me come to work. My family is barely speaking to me. I haven't heard from
Max, but I assume he's been duly chastened, as well. Can we be friends again?
John