by Meg Cabot
Yes, but I am older and wiser now, and no longer prone to be impressed by surgical enhancement.
Mitch
P.S. Since when does Dad care who I find agreeable? Since when does Dad care about anything except making par?
* * *
To: Mitchell Hertzog
Fr: Stacy Trent
Re: Uh-oh
Oh my God. You HAVE got it bad. What’s her name?
Stace
P.S. Um, does a triple bypass just eight months ago ring a bell?
* * *
To: Stacy Trent
Fr: Mitchell Hertzog
Re: Uh-oh
Her name is Kate.
Tell Jason I went ahead and reserved an 8 a.m. tee time tomorrow for us at New Canaan. If you’ll deign to let him out of the house. And I don’t care if it’s snowing, we’re still going.
Mitch
P.S. Tell Stuart to mind his own business.
* * *
To: Mitchell Hertzog
Fr: Stacy Trent
Re: Kate
Screw tee times in New Canaan. Get back to the girl. I’m a housewife with three kids, one of whom still isn’t potty trained. To me, romance is a quickie once a week while the kids are glued to SpongeBob SquarePants. If I’m lucky. Now spill it. What’s she like? I thought you hated MBA types.
Stace
P.S. I did. He threatened to tell on me about the Mercedes thing.
* * *
To: Stacy Trent
Fr: Mitchell Hertzog
Re: Kate
No, I hate other lawyers. Besides, she isn’t an MBA. She’s a BA. In social work. And thanks for sharing that SpongeBob SquarePants thing. Because I really needed to know that about my big sister.
And in answer to your query, from what I could tell during the incredibly brief interlude we shared this morning in Dad’s conference room, and what I have gathered from a former client of mine who happens to know her, Kate is kind and pure of heart, and recently broke up with her no-good rock-musician boyfriend, and likes chicken with garlic sauce.
Oh, and she’s blonde. And from Kentucky. And probably about as unlikely as any girl I’ve ever met ever to date a lawyer—especially one who works for a client like Peter Hargrave. Hope that helps.
Tell Jason they swear to me that the snow on the seventh green is melting. Also, if you want, I’ll come over afterwards and teach Little John how to pitch. Just so he doesn’t embarrass himself when he starts kindergarten, throwing like his dad. I mean, like a girl.
Mitch
P.S. The Mercedes thing? Again? Oh, what, and Mom threatened not to leave you her dolls?
* * *
To: Mitchell Hertzog
Fr: Stacy Trent
Re: Kate
Um, Mitch, not to burst your bubble, but Little John is two. Okay? He isn’t going to start kindergarten for at least three more years.
But of course you’re welcome to come by anytime. Fair warning, however: Jason’s brother—Little John’s namesake—and his wife Mel will be over in the afternoon with their new baby. I know how you tend to feel baby-overload if there is more than one set of Pampers in the room at a time, so I wanted to make sure you had time to prepare yourself mentally.
I know—why don’t you ask Kate to come along? She probably doesn’t like lawyers because she’s never really known one. Once she gets to know you, she’ll warm up to you. And what better way to show how sweet and cuddly lawyers can be than to see one in the bosom of his family? She could take the train up, and you can pick her up at the station after your golf game and bring her here. Then we can break out those expensive bottles of wine Stuart had his assistant send us for Christmas, and toast him and his bride-to-be. And it’ll be really fun because Stuart and Amy won’t actually BE here.
Come on, it’ll be great. Say you’ll invite her.
Stace
P.S. I’ll be sure to pass your assessment of my husband’s throwing skills on to him. I’m guessing he’ll be immensely flattered.
P.P.S. Yes about the dolls.
* * *
To: Stacy Trent
Fr: Mitchell Hertzog
Re: Kate
Nice try, but if you think any guy is going to bring a girl he’s only met once in a professional setting home to meet his family, then can I just say that you have been out of the singles scene for a very, very long time? No offense, Stace, but I think you and Jason need to dump the kids on Mom and grab a weekend in Miami or something. The whole quickie-during-Spongebob thing has warped your idea of what romance actually is.
Allow me to assure you that the chances of my bringing any girl out to meet you and Jason and the kids . . . not to mention some of your many in-laws—even decent ones like John and Mel—before we’ve even—
Well, you can forget about it.
And now I have to go over to the offices of our future sister-in-law to inquire of her, in person, why she hasn’t returned any of my assistant’s calls asking her to schedule an appointment for her pretrial discovery conference.
And if I should happen, upon my way there, to run into Kate, you’ll undoubtedly hear all about it from Stuart, who’ll get it from Amy, so why should I trouble myself?
See you tomorrow.
Mitch
P.S. Really, Stace. You’ve got to stop letting them push you around. I’ll take care of the freaking kids while the two of you are in Paris next month. Okay?
P.P.S. Yeah, I knew. Mom’s been talking about it nonstop. You think I am not aware that she’s holding canceling on you like an anvil over your head? Relax. The kids love me. We’ll have a blast. And that whole thing with Little John’s first word—look, I told you, it just slipped out. The guy came at us from out of nowhere. It’s a wonder we weren’t killed. And wouldn’t you rather your son’s first word be of the four-letter variety than some boring Mamma or Dadda thing? Wouldn’t you?
New York Journal Employee Incident Report
Name/Title of Reporter:
Carl Hopkins, Security Officer
Date/Time of Incident:
Friday, 3:30 p.m.
Place of Incident:
NY Journal Lobby
Persons Involved in Incident:
Dale Carter, no affiliation with the paper, 26
Mitchell Hertzog, outside legal counsel, 29
Kathleen Mackenzie, Human Resources, 25
Nature of Incident:
D. Carter attempted to enter building to give large bouquet of roses to K. Mackenzie. C. Hopkins stopped D. Carter at security desk and told him to wait for K. Mackenzie to come down to sign him in.
K. Mackenzie, when contacted, said would not come down.
C. Hopkins told D. Carter to leave.
D. Carter would not leave.
D. Carter said would wait until K. Mackenzie exited building for the day.
C. Hopkins informed D. Carter that no loitering in lobby allowed.
D. Carter again said would not leave.
D. Carter sat down in middle of lobby.
C. Hopkins contacted K. Mackenzie. Told K. Mackenzie that D. Carter would not leave.
K. Mackenzie came downstairs.
K. Mackenzie asked D. Carter to leave.
D. Carter said would not leave until K. Mackenzie listened to his new song.
D. Carter began to sing song (Why Won’t You Be With Me, Kate).
M. Hertzog entered building.
M. Hertzog approached K. Mackenzie.
M. Hertzog asked K. Mackenzie if there was a problem.
D. Carter finished song.
K. Mackenzie said Nice song now please leave.
D. Carter said would not leave until K. Mackenzie agreed to move back in with him.
M. Hertzog said I think
the lady asked you to leave, now go.
D. Carter said Mind your own business.
M. Hertzog said Are you for real?
D. Carter said Try me and find out, Suit Boy.
K. Mackenzie told D. Carter if he did not leave she would notify local precinct and have D. Carter arrested for trespass.
D. Carter said did not care and would not leave until K. Mackenzie agreed to move back in with him. Also said would hit Suit Boy (M. Hertzog).
K. Mackenzie directed Security to notify local precinct.
Local precinct notified by C. Hopkins.
D. Carter began new song (Kate, Why Did You Leave Me)
Officers from local precinct arrived.
D. Carter finished song.
Crowd in lobby applauded.
D. Carter put under arrest by officers from local precinct.
D. Carter removed from premises by officers from local precinct.
Crowd in lobby booed.
K. Mackenzie requested D. Carter be listed as Persona Non Grata at 216 W. 57th Street.
PNG form filled out by C. Hopkins (see attached).
Follow-up:
Incident recorded, sent to A. Jenkins in Human Resources.
THE NEW YORK JOURNAL
New York City’s Leading Photo-Newspaper
Security Division
The New York Journal
216 W. 57th Street
New York, NY 10019
212-555-6890
MEMO
To: All Personnel
Fr: Security Administration
Re: Persona Non Grata The New York Journal
Persona Non Grata Notification
* * *
Please note that the below-named individual has been classified as Persona Non Grata in 216 W. 57th Street as of the date of this notification, and will continue to remain so indefinitely. This individual is not to be allowed on or near the premises of 216 W. 57th Street at any time during the term of above sanction.
Name: Dale C. Carter
SS#: Unknown
Description: (place copy of ID picture if possible)
White male, 26 years of age
6 feet, 175 lbs
Blond hair, blue eyes
Seeks contact with Kathleen Mackenzie,
Personnel Rep, Human Resources, 3rd floor
This individual is not deemed dangerous, however, is prone to cause disturbances by singing and refusing to vacate premises when asked. Contact Security immediately upon sighting of above individual.
Journal of Kate Mackenzie
Oh my God, I can’t believe it, I am totally MORTIFIED. I can’t believe Dale did that. That seriously has to be the most humiliating thing that has ever happened to me in my life . . . except for maybe when I accidentally walked in on Jen and Craig going at it in the kitchen the other day. . . .I seriously need to find another place to live.
But anyway. About today. And in front of Stuart Hertzog’s brother, too! I mean, he saw—and heard—the whole thing! Suit Boy! Dale actually called him that! He was just trying to help, and Dale called him Suit Boy!
He must think I’m a complete whack job now.
Or worse, he’s probably feeling sorry for Dale. He’s probably thinking I’m this cold-hearted bitch. “The guy wrote this great song about her and she won’t even give him a second chance. Well, I certainly won’t make the mistake of asking out someone as mean as she is.”
God! Like I ever even had a hope that he might. Ask me out, I mean. I mean, look at me! I’m sitting in a phone booth—A PHONE BOOTH—in the lobby, hiding from my coworkers . . . and from him. What kind of freak does that? Hides in phone booths? I mean, besides Superman?And he doesn’t hide in phone booths. He changes clothes in them. Only don’t ask me how, there’s barely enough room in here for me to move my pen, let alone put on a leotard.
Oh God, WHY can’t I ever just behave like a normal person in front of cute guys? Why? Now any hope I might have had of passing myself off as a savvy career woman—not that I probably lost all chance at that during that depo I gave him (chicken in garlic sauce? What was I thinking???)—in front of him is totally gone. Not that I ever thought the two of us—I mean, Mitchell and I—God, it’s so weird to think that he’s Stuart Hertzog’s brother.
Still, I mean, there’s no denying the guy is cute, and I thought, well, I just thought, you know, if I saw him again, maybe . . .
Oh God, I don’t know what I thought.
But I certainly never thought I’d be standing next to him in the lobby of my place of employment while I was listening to my ex-boyfriend singing about his heartache over my leaving him.
And now, frankly, whatever I thought is completely moot. I mean, cute, high-powered lawyers—even ones with Rocky and Bullwinkle ties given to them by their nieces—don’t ask out girls whose lives are in COMPLETE AND UTTER DISARRAY, like mine.
* * *
To: Jen Sadler
Fr: Kate Mackenzie
Re: What just happened downstairs
Please shoot me.
Kate
* * *
To: Kate Mackenzie
Fr: Jen Sadler
Re: What just happened downstairs
Okay, normally I would be saying you are making a mountain out of a molehill, but this time, I think you really do have something to worry about. Is it true he really SANG?
J
* * *
To: Jen Sadler
Fr: Kate Mackenzie
Re: What just happened downstairs
Oh yes, he sang. Jen, what am I going to do?
Kate
* * *
To: Kate Mackenzie
Fr: Jen Sadler
Re: What just happened downstairs
It IS kind of funny. I mean, if you look at it in a certain way. That Mitchell Hertzog should happened to have walked in at that very moment . . .
It’s just so . . . you.
J
* * *
To: Jen Sadler
Fr: Kate Mackenzie
Re: What just happened downstairs
Oh, ha, ha, I’m laughing. WHY is it that I can never seem to project a cool and put-together demeanor, like Amy, in front of the people I most want to impress? I mean, do you have to have been born without a soul like the T.O.D. in order to achieve some semblance of professionalism in the workplace? Is that it?
Kate
* * *
To: Kate Mackenzie
Fr: Jen Sadler
Re: Why it is that you can never seem to project a cool and put-together demeanor
I don’t know, but here’s your big chance. HE just walked in. And may I just say, your description does not do him the slightest justice. I wouldn’t have known him, if it hadn’t been for the tie. The guy is HANDCUFF-to-the-bed hot!
* * *
To: Jen Sadler
Fr: Kate Mackenzie
Re: He who?
What are you talking—OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!
It’s HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!
What is he DOING here?????????? Why is he going into AMY’s office?????????
* * *
To: Kate Mackenzie
Fr: Jen Sadler
Re: Mitchell Hertzog
I don’t know what he’s doing here—talking to the T.O.D. about the case, probably. But this is your big chance to show him you aren’t the world’s greatest spaz. Get up and go make some copies, or something. Shake that booty you’ve worked into such perfect shape running up and down th
e stairs to my apartment. Thank GOD you wore a skirt today. . . .
GO FILE SOMETHING!!!!!!!!! He’s coming out of her office . . .
Go!!!!!!!!!!! NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!
* * *
To: Jen Sadler
Fr: Kate Mackenzie
Re: Mitchell Hertzog
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
* * *
To: Jen Sadler
Fr: Tim Grabowksi
Re: Mitchell Hertzog
Jen, my spies tell me that Stuart Hertzog’s brother is in the Human Resources offices at THIS VERY MOMENT. Also, that he was somehow involved in the incident in the lobby not too long ago, involving Kate Mackenzie and her ex. We have a bet going here in Computers that he’s going to ask Kate out, because there is nothing more appealing to a heterosexual male (or so I’m told) than a woman who needs rescuing. And if there was ever a woman who needs rescuing, it’s Kate.
