Look, if the little Bobcat interrogates you, gets a little rowdy, and smashes some furniture, a few priceless antiques—it only means that he loves you. Whatever you do, don’t confess and don’t knuckle under. I know you’re guilty, feel like Hester Prynne and all of that, but don’t let it show. For Christ’s sake. Just tell him to go fuck himself. He hasn’t got aerial photography. It’s all paranoid conjecture. The green-eyed monster has got Bobby-boy in its clutches, but cool out. He’s a dependent personality. He won’t leave you. Guaranteed. You can take that one to the bank.

Hang in,

Xxxxs

Ace

to: CC14

re: He Did It! He Packed the Samsonite and Blew Town!

date sent: February 2, 1999

Hey, babe, so sue me, I was wrong. But he’ll be back. Three days max. And this is your story: You were having a late snack with a colleague after a long shift. That’s all it was. Perfectly innocent. Give Bob shit for following you. What kind of crap is that, anyhow? Who is this new guy, anyhow? You said he was a resident. How old is he? Is he hot?

Zarkov

to: CC14

re: One-Night Stand

date sent: February 4, 1999

A one-night stand. Right! Well, I told you that you would get caught if you weren’t careful—but here’s the good news: You weren’t really caught! How many times do I have to tell you this? It’s like talking to a brick wall. You deny everything. All you were seen doing is having a snack. You weren’t holding hands in the restaurant, were you? No. You’re just sitting there with stars in your eyes. Well, that’s not getting caught, baby. Is this new one a surgeon? How tall is he?

James Douglas Morrison

to: CC14

re: Jealous

date sent: February 7, 1999

No, I am not jealous, and if that’s what is motivating this bullshit hanky-panky, you can forget it! What does Lisa think? Are you giving her the blow-by-blow? What kind of shit-for-brains shrink is she, anyhow? Use that high-priced intellect of yours. Be logical.

Meanwhile, I’ve been getting back into my novel these last few weeks. Novel? Sonnets? Corporate advertisements?—all of these things are preferable to scriptwriting.

Ming of Mongo

to: CC14

re re re: Happy Valentine’s Day!

date sent: February 14, 1999

Baby, this is ridiculous. I couldn’t read all your emails. You just hit me with the whole Library of Congress! I didn’t write back not because you are pathetic but because each time I write back, you fucking flip.

Yours truly,

Captain Torch