by Meg Cabot
Dave
To: Mel Fuller
From: Nadine Wilcock
Subject: You must be feeling better
Or is there some other reason why you are humming “I Feel Pretty” under your breath?
Which, by the way, is only slightly annoying to those of us who have to work near you.
Nad
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: My humming
How about this? I feel better AND I’m happy.
I know. It seems hard to believe. But it’s true.
Want to know why I’m happy? Because I’m going out tonight. On a date. An actual date. With a man.
What man, you ask? Why, Max Friedlander, if you must know. Where are we going? It’s a surprise.
But guess what? He’s paying.
And even though it’s to say thank you for saving his aunt’s life—though I must say I’m not sure she’d really appreciate my efforts, considering what her quality of life is at the moment—it’s still a date.
And Mrs. Friedlander might get better.
So, yes, I guess you could say that overall I’m very happy.
But if my humming bothers you, I’ll stop, by all means.
Mel
To: Mel Fuller
From: Dolly Vargas
Subject: Did someone say date?
Darling, is it true? You and Max, I mean?
You’re so calm about it, sweetie, that’s why I ask. I mean, considering it’s the first time a man has asked you out since…well, you know. Why, speak of the devil…there he is, sulking over by the copier as we speak. Poor, poor Aaron.
I would think you’d at least head over to Bumble and Bumble for a blowout and a manicure. Pedicure, too, if you’re planning on going open-toe.
And you know, I know the best little place for bikini waxing—that is, if you think tonight is THE night. We always want to look our best in our Christian Diors, now, don’t we? You know, I hear the Sphinx is becoming quite popular. Since I know you don’t know what that is, I’ll explain. It’s when they wax not just your bikini line, but the whole…
Oh, pooh. Peter’s on the phone. More later, I promise.
XXXOOO
Dolly
To: Mel Fuller
From: Nadine Wilcock
Subject: Your date
Okay, I know it’s been a long time (that little movie-and-a-slice thing you guys did doesn’t count—nor that night at Fresche when we all inspected him, nor that other night you ended up spending at the animal hospital) so I’m going to make sure you haven’t forgotten anything in your date survival kit.
Now, check each off these items before you leave the apartment so you’ll be sure not to forget them:
1. Lipstick
2. Compact
3. Metrocard (in case you need to make a quick getaway)
4. Money for cab fare (in case you need to make a quick getaway and there are no subway stops nearby)
5. Cover-up in case he dumps you and you start crying and your mascara runs
6. Passport (in case he chloroforms you, puts you on a plane to Dubai, and sells you into white slavery, and you need to prove to the authorities after you escape that you are an American citizen)
7. Altoids
8. Hairbrush
9. Clean undies (just in case you end up spending the night)
10. Condoms (ditto)
Hope this helps.
Nad ;-)
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: The list
Thanks for that list of things I will supposedly need on my date, but you are forgetting one thing:
WE LIVE NEXT DOOR TO EACH OTHER.
So if I need clean underwear, I’ll just have to go across the hall.
Now stop talking about it. Between you and Dolly I don’t know who’s making me more nervous.
It’s just dinner, for God’s sake.
Oh, God, I have to go, or I’m going to be late.
Mel
To: Mel Fuller
From: Dolly Vargas
Subject: Just one more thing…
Do be sure you use a condom, darling, because Maxie has been around, if you know what I mean.
Well, think about it. All those models. There’s no telling where they’ve been, bony little delights that they are.
Ta for now.
XXXOOO
Dolly
To: [email protected]
From: Jason Trent
Subject: So…
How’d it go?
Jason
P.S.: Stacy made me ask.
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Tony Salerno
Subject: I assume
that the reason your phone has been busy for the past three hours is because you’re yakking away to Mel about her date. Well, could you spare your fiancé one minute of your time to answer this serious question:
Who are you planning on seating next to my great-aunt Ida at the reception? Because my mom says whoever is sitting by her has to make sure she doesn’t get any champagne. You remember the trailer park fire Ida caused at the last family function, right?
Let me know.
Love ya,
Tony
P.S.: My mom says if you seat her by Ida, she’ll commit hara-kiri on the spot.
To: Tony Salerno
From: Nadine Wilcock
Subject: I am not
on-line yakking with Mel. I haven’t heard from Mel since the last time I saw her, which was when she left work to go home and change for her big dinner with Max. I mean, John. What is with that name thing, anyway? Where does somebody get the nickname JOHN? John is not a nickname.
Anyway, I was on-line looking up gifts for our wedding party. What do you think of cuff links for the guys, and earrings for the girls?
Now that I think of it, it is kind of funny I haven’t heard from Mel. It’s been twenty-four hours. She never goes twenty-four hours without returning my calls.
Well, except for when her neighbor got conked on the head.
Oh, my God, you don’t think anything’s happened to her, do you? I mean, do you think Max/John might have kidnapped her? And sold her into white slavery? Should I call the police, do you think?
Nad
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Tony Salerno
Subject: I think you should have your head examined
Also, any guy who would buy Mel Fuller from a white slaver should ask for his money back. She would make the worst slave. She’d always be whining about how come the guy doesn’t have cable, and how is she supposed to keep up with everything that’s going on in Winona Ryder’s life without E! Entertainment News.
Tony
P.S: You never answered the question about who you’re seating beside Aunt Ida.
P.P.S.: My friends would laugh their asses off if I gave them cuff links. How about Wusthof paring knives?
To: Mel Fuller
From: Nadine Wilcock
Subject: Where are you?
Seriously, I am not trying to be nosy, and I know you can take care of yourself, but I’ve left three messages and you still haven’t called back. WHERE ARE YOU??? If I don’t hear from you soon I’m calling the police, I swear.
Nad
To: Mel Fuller
From: Human Resources
Subject: Tardiness
Dear Melissa Fuller,
This is an automated message from the Human Resources Division of the New York Journal, New York City’s leading photo-newspaper. Please be aware that according to your supervisor, managing editor George Sanchez, your workday here at the Journal begins promptly at 9 AM, making you 83 minutes tardy today. This is your 49th tardy exceeding twenty minutes so far this year, Melissa Fuller.
Tardiness is a serious and expensive issue facing employers all over America. Employees often make light of tardiness, but routine lateness can often be a symptom of a more serious issue, such as and any number of other conditions. If you are suffering from any of the above, please do not hesitate to contact your Human Resources Representative, Amy Jenkins. Your Human Resources Representative will be only too happy to enroll you in the New York Journal’s Staff Assistance Program, where you will be paired with a mental health professional who will work to help you achieve your full potential.
alcoholism
drug addiction
gambling addiction
abusive domestic partner
sleep disorders
clinical depression
Melissa Fuller, we here at the New York Journal are a team. We win as a team, and we lose as one, as well. Melissa Fuller, don’t you want to be on a winning team? So please do your part to see that you arrive at work on time from now on!
Sincerely,
Human Resources Division
New York Journal
Please note that any future tardies may result in suspension or dismissal.
This e-mail is confidential and should not be used by anyone who is not the original intended recipient. If you have received this e-mail in error please inform the sender and delete it from your mailbox or any other storage mechanism.
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Tim Grabowski
Subject: Our Miss Mel
Well, it looks as if our little Miss Mel had a very, VERY good time on her date, doesn’t it? I mean, I know when I don’t come into work the next day, it’s generally because the date hasn’t ended yet. Wink, wink.
Well, I’m all for it. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer person. Lordie, though, how I wish it were me! I mean, did you get a look at the arms on that guy? And those thighs? And that full head of hair?
Excuse me. I have to go to the little boys’ room now and douse myself with cold water.
Tim
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: George Sanchez
Subject: Fuller
Where the hell is Fuller? I thought we’d gotten past all this when that damned Friedlander guy moved in next door to her. Wasn’t he going to start walking that dog?
So where is she?
I swear to God, Wilcock, you can tell her from me that if that story on the new Paloma Picasso watch with the interchangeable bands isn’t on my desk by five she’s out of a job.
I don’t know what you people think I’m running here, but it happens to be called a NEWSPAPER, in case you’ve forgotten.
George
To: Mel Fuller
From: Dolly Vargas
Subject: Not that it’s any of my business, but…
Don’t you think it’s just the slightest bit…well, tacky to rub poor Aaron’s nose in it this way? I mean with this whole not-showing-up-to-work-the-morning-after-your-big-date thing. I’m sure it’s been a long time since you actually spent the night with a man, and all of that, but this is just plain rude.
There, I’ve said it. Now on to more important matters:
So just how big is he? Max Friedlander, I mean. Is he a shower or a grower?
Because you know, darling, I’ve heard rumors that…
Oh, there’s Peter again. He simply will not stop pestering me. More later, darling.
XXXOOO
Dolly
To: John Trent
From: Genevieve Randolph Trent
Subject: Your delinquency
Dearest John,
I can understand that you find your new, independent life quite engrossing—especially as far as the Fullers of Lansing, Illinois, are concerned—but you might remember that you once had a family, and that they would enjoy hearing from you now and again. I believe your brother has attempted to contact you more than once in the past few days, and that you have, in the vulgar vernacular of the day, “blown him off.”
It might behoove you to keep in mind, John, an old song from my Scout days:
Make new friends
but keep the old.
One is silver
and the other gold.
That applies to family as well, you know.
Mim
P.S.: Are you aware that there are TWO Lansing, Illinoises? I am quite serious. One is a quaint farm town, and the other seems to be made up entirely of strip malls. Your little Miss Fuller appears to be from the former. Just thought you might like to know.
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: I’m sorry
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean to scare you. As you can see, I’m fine.
I got another one of those tardies from Amy Jenkins. What is her glitch, anyway?
Do you know if George is mad? What’s the Mountain Dew situation? Is the machine fully stocked? Or is he suffering from caffeine withdrawal again?
I really meant to call, only I never got a chance. Every time I started to, well, I got distracted. Forgive me?
Mel
To: Mel Fuller
From: Nadine Wilcock
Subject: It’s about time!
I can’t believe you. Do you know how worried we all were?
Well, all right. How worried I was, anyway? Don’t ever scare me like that again.
I will forgive you if you give me a detailed date-a-logue: I want descriptions of where you have been and EXACTLY what you’ve been up to.
As if I didn’t know. “Distracted.”
Yeah. Right.
Nad
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: Him
What can I say?
Oh, Nadine, it was incredible! I remember what a complete wacko you were after that first weekend you and Tony spent together. I thought you had lost your mind. It’s probably wrong for a maid of honor to admit that, but it’s true.
But now I understand completely what you were going through. It’s LOVE! Love just does that to you, doesn’t it? I mean, I can even see now how, despite the age difference, Winona won’t let go of Chris Noth. Not if she feels the way about him that I feel about John.
Where to start?
Oh, dinner: He took me Belew’s.
No, really! I know, I know. There’s a three-month waiting list for reservations there, but we walked in like it was nothing, Nadine. And they led us straight to the most adorable little table for two tucked in the corner, and there was champagne already chilling in an ice bucket. Seriously. And it wasn’t Korbel, Nadine. It was Cristal. CRISTAL. That’s like three hundred bucks a bottle. I was all, “What, are you crazy, John? You can’t afford this.”
But he said not to worry about it, that David Belew owed him a favor.
Well, that must have been some favor, because we had the most incredible meal—I mean, even you could not imagine it, Nadine, you who’s been to Nobu and Daniel on the paper’s expense account. We started with oysters and Beluga caviar, then moved on to salmon tartar. Then came foie gras confit with port-poached figs, duck prosciutto, and�
�
Oh, I can’t even remember what else. I’m sorry. I’ve failed you.
But, Nadine, it was all so good, and with each course came a different wine, and by the time we got to the main course, which I think involved squab, I wasn’t even paying attention to the food, because John looked so nice in his suit, and he kept leaning forward and smiling and saying my name, and then I would go “What?” and he’d go, “What?” and then we’d laugh, and by the time dessert rolled around we were kissing over the tabletop, and the waiter could hardly get in there to take the things away.
So then John said, “Let’s get out of here,” and so we did, and I don’t even know how we made it back to the building, but we did, somehow, kissing the whole time, and by the time we got up to the fifteenth floor my dress was completely unzipped in the back, and then I remembered something horrible, and I was like, “What about Paco?”
And then John said the eight most beautiful words I’d ever heard:
“I paid the doorman to walk Paco tonight.”
My dress hit the floor before I even got the key into the lock.
And guess what? When I went out this morning, it was still lying there in the hallway! Somebody had found it and folded it up all nicely. How embarrassing! Can you imagine, Nadine? I mean, what if Mrs. Friedlander wasn’t in the hospital in a coma, and she’d found my dress like that?
Well, I guess if Mrs. Friedlander wasn’t in the hospital in a coma, my dress wouldn’t have been in the hallway. Because I probably would never have even met John, if someone hadn’t conked his aunt on the head and left me with that dog to take care of.
Anyway.
You know how in books they always talk about characters having bodies that just fit together? You know, like two long-lost puzzle pieces, or something? They just seem to fit perfectly?
