The Boy Next Door Read Online Free PDF Page B

CLEARLY A.
    As long as Auntie Helen—and her lawyers—doesn’t know any better, why not let me enjoy my well-earned little vacation? Placate this neighbor of hers. That’s all I’m asking. Just take over the dog-walking duties.
    I think it’s a very small price to pay, considering that I kept you from making the worst mistake of your entire life. You think old Mimsy would still be inviting you up to those soirees on the Vineyard if you had a Vegas showgirl for a wife?
    I think not.
    I think you owe your buddy Maxie, but good.
    Max

To: Jason Trent
    From: John Trent
    Subject: Max Friedlander
    He wants me to pretend to be him and walk his comatose aunt’s dog while he’s off partying with a supermodel.
    I guess it could be worse. A lot worse.
    So why do I have such a bad feeling about it?
    John

To: John Trent
    From: Jason Trent
    Subject: Max Friedlander
    You’re right. It could be worse. Are you going to do it?
    Jason
    P.S.: Stacy says to tell you she’s got the perfect girl for you: Haley’s dressage instructor. Twenty-nine, size 4, blond, blue-eyed, the works. What do you say?

To: Jason Trent
    From: John Trent
    Subject: Max Friedlander
    Why not?
    I mean, walking an old lady’s dog…how bad can that be?
    John
    P.S.: You know I can’t stand dressage. There’s something unnatural about making a horse dance.

To: John Trent
    From: Jason Trent
    Subject: Max Friedlander
    The horses don’t dance in dressage, you moron. They step.
    And have you ever considered that you and Heidi might have been perfectly suited for one another? I mean, with the kind of luck you’ve been having with women lately, Heidi could very well have been your last chance at real happiness.
    Just think, if you’d followed your heart, instead of Max friedlander’s head, you could be the one providing Mim with a grand-kid in December, instead of me.
    Jason

To: Jason Trent
    From: John Trent
    Subject: Max Friedlander
    Have I mentioned lately how much I hate you?
    John

To: Max Friedlander
    From: John Trent
    Subject: S.O.S.
    Okay, I’ll do it.
    John

To: John Trent
    From: Max Friedlander
    Subject: Operation Paco
    All right. I’ll let the neighbor know to expect you (I mean, me) tonight for the big key pickup. She’s got my aunt’s spare. It has not apparently occurred to her to wonder why Aunt Helen never gave me a key to her place. (That fire in her last apartment was not my fault. There was something wrong with the wiring.)
    Remember, you’re supposed to be me, so try to act like you care about the old lady’s hematoma, or whatever it is.
    And listen, as long as you’re being me, could you try to dress with a little…what’s the word I’m looking for here? Oh, I know. STYLE. I know for guys like you who are born into money, the instinct is to downplay the trillions you’re worth.
    And that’s cool with me. I mean, I can understand this whole thing you’re doing, getting a real job instead of the cushy family one your big brother offered.
    And I’m totally fine with it. If you want to pretend like you’re only making forty-five grand a year, that’s just great.
    But while you’re being me, could you PLEASE not dress like a grad student? I am begging you: No Grateful Dead T-shirts. Andthose deck shoes you always wear? Would something in a tassel kill you?
    And for the love of God, invest in a leather jacket. Please. I know it will mean touching some of those precious millions in that trust fund your grandfather left you, but, really, something NOT from the Gap would be good.
    That’s all. That’s