Plan B: A Novel
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In his debut, acclaimed bestselling author Jonathan Tropper captured the anxiety and humor of a group of friends as they near their thirtieth birthdays and have to come to terms with a milestone that they never thought would be like this. Ten years ago, they went into the world full of dreams for the future. But now Ben's getting a divorce, Lindsey's unemployed, Alison and Chuck are stuck in ruts, and Jack is getting more publicity for his cocaine addiction than his Hollywood success. Suddenly, turning thirty seems to be both more meaningful and less than they'd imagined it to be.
Tropper's endearing novel is about more than love, celebrity, addiction, kidnapping, or even turning thirty; it's a heartfelt comic riff on what it means to be an adult against your will.
and hugged me tightly. “Well anyway, I just want you to know that I really love you. You take good care of me.” “I take good care of you and the other guys get to sleep with you. What’s in it for me?” She leaned forward and kissed me softly on the lips, something she’d never done before. “You get a kiss.” “Throw in some tongue and we’ll call it even.” “Pervert.” “Tease.” “Are we going to talk or are we going to dance?” We danced. Sarah and our lawyers were waiting in her lawyer’s
said. “Is that a Darth Vader mask?” “What? Oh, yes. It is.” I had left it sitting on the night table. Alison looked at me questioningly. “I’m not sure why I packed it,” I confessed. “I thought it might come in handy.” “You never know,” she said. Here’s how we got the food to Jack. Alison made him scrambled eggs and ketchup on toast, which we put on a plate and into a ziplocked bag. We poured his orange juice into a Tupperware cup with a removable lid, and some coffee into a car mug with a lid
stupid,” Alison said. “What do you want us to do, slide your food under the door?” “Not my problem,” Jack retorted. “Jack!” “Please try to keep it down,” Jack said, sounding hoarse. “I’m going to try to get some sleep. I’ve got a big day today.” “Alison,” Chuck said quietly, nudging her shoulder. “We can still open the door.” He took the knob from her hands. “We just stick this in and twist.” But I had a feeling that Chuck wasn’t giving Jack enough credit. “I don’t think so,” I said. “Why
time, invite the guest of honor, and have all of his friends waiting with light refreshments and some tough love. Surprise! You fucked up and we all know it. “Do you think Jack will really respond to something like that?” I asked, returning R2 to his spot next to C-3PO, his golden sidekick. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But we have to try something. I could never forgive myself if we just stood by and something terrible happened.” “An intervention, huh? Aren’t we supposed to have a
room, where it hit the wall with a hollow thunk just below a framed Monet poster and burst into pieces. In the instant of impact the television went on again, the remote managing to send out one last electronic signal before its annihilation. “Hey!” Chuck yelled, jumping up from the couch. We watched her apprehensively, but throwing the remote seemed to have assuaged whatever tension that had been building up inside of her. She turned to me with a weary expression, and I found myself wondering