The Trickster Diaries/Chapter 92
Jones was right. For all I really truly knew Juliette was a fat Russian man living above a deli somewhere in Brooklyn. The internet was loaded with con artists.
Not showing up at the corner bar (Ello) was how I intended to find out. I needed to see her, him, it, in the clear light of day. It was a gamble because, well, you know how it goes—girls get hurt, scared, weird, crazy. What’s a fat Russian gonna do except try and get outta town and cover his tracks?
Calling my bluff was smart but I could see what was coming no matter what I said in my follow-up letter. First the cold shoulder. Then revenge. And that’s precisely how things played out.
Well, OK, not precisely. But after a long and careful think all my letter ended up saying was: “Everything is perfect.”
Then the cold shoulder.