by Meg Cabot
“No. And Jen won’t tell me. On account of how I did something kinda dumb the other day. I mean, I thought it was the kinda thing Kate’d want me to do, kinda romantic and shit. But I guess she didn’t think it was so romantic, since she had ’em call the cops on me. . . .”
“Just give me Jen’s number, Dale. I’m sure Jen’ll tell me where Katie is staying. And Dale, really, try not to take this too personally. You and Katie were meant for each other. I mean, you haven’t been together since the eleventh grade for nothing, now, have you?”
“Naw. I guess not. Okay. Jen’s number is 555-1324. That’s 212. And Mrs. M.?”
“Yes, Dale?”
“If you talk to Kate, tell her . . . tell her I love her. I mean, I can’t be who she wants me to be—’cause I can only be myself. You know? But I still love her.”
“Of course I’ll tell her, Dale. That is just so sweet—“
“And can you ask her where she put the coffee filters? ’cause like, we can’t find ’em anywhere. We’ve been using a pair of Scroggs’s socks, and socks don’t make real good coffee filters, it turns out.”
“Of course I’ll ask her, Dale. Love you. Buh-bye!”
“Bye.”
(Click)
* * *
To: Kate Mackenzie
Fr: Jen Sadler
Re: Your mother
Bad news: your mom just called. She finally reached Dale, and he told her you two split up. She sounds really upset. I told her I don’t have your number, but that I could get it. I said I left it at work. A little fib, I know, but hey, it doesn’t hurt anyone, and it buys you some time.
So. What do you want me to do? I tried calling you, but the line’s been busy for hours. What are you guys doing over there? Pranking all the eligible bachelors in New York?
J
* * *
To: Jen Sadler
Fr: Kate Mackenzie
Re: My mom
Aaargh. I knew she’d figure it out sooner or later. She LOVES Dale. I am never going to hear the end of this one.
I had to take the phone off the hook, because Dolly and Skiboy are still asleep. Or at least, they’re still in her bedroom. With the door closed.
Whatever, you don’t have to give her this number. She can call me at work tomorrow. I mean, now that the cat’s out of the bag.
So. Did you and Craig have fun without me this weekend?
* * *
To: Jen Sadler
Fr: Kate Mackenzie
Re: Peter H Alert!!!!
Peter just came in! I’m serious! And Dolly is still in bed with Skiboy! I’m doing my best to distract him—he seemed a little surprised to see me here—but I’m running out of stuff to do. I already showed him how I can play “Slave for U” on Dolly’s baby grand.
Now he’s poking around, looking for the mail. Any second now, he’s going to burst in on Dolly, and then there’ll be murdered Skiboy everywhere! Or at least an awkward silence. What do I—-
Too late.
* * *
To: Kate Mackenzie
Fr: Jen Sadler
Re: Peter H Alert!!!!
DON’T LEAVE ME HANGING HERE!!!! WHAT HAPPENED????
* * *
To: Jen Sadler
Fr: Kate Mackenzie
Re: Peter H Alert!!!!
Well. Guess what? It turns out Skiboy is MY boyfriend. Who knew?
At least, that’s Dolly’s story, and she seems to be sticking to it.
Though what MY boyfriend was doing in DOLLY’s shower is a mystery—but apparently not one Peter Hargrave feels necessary to get to the bottom of. He and Dolly are currently snuggled up on the couch, reading the Sunday Times and making fun of it. Skiboy kept shooting them dirty looks until I finally told him I had to go to Pilates (!) and kissed him good-bye.
I don’t know how much longer I can take this. I mean, Peter Hargrave OWNS my place of work. Can I really go around lying to him like this?
I guess, for free rent, it’s a small price to pay. Still, I snagged the Real Estate section, and am going to hit the streets in a bit. There are a lot of studios I can afford, it turns out . . . in NEW JERSEY!!!!
TTYL
Kate
* * *
East 94th St.—rent-stabilized studio,
no fee, no appl. fee, no ba.
Steps from Central Park,
prewar building, hi ceils,
windows in kit. & bath,
live-in super, $1395 imm.
212-555-9966
* * *
Taken. Of course.
* * *
1 AVE/OFF HOUSTON NO FEE
BRITE AND AIRY STU $1095
All units have marble bath,
HWF, new appl.’s and video intercom.
Call Armand 212-555-1790
* * *
Fee.
* * *
27th St. East, charming studio $1395
Recent Renov. Hi ceils, large closet,
hwd. flrs, all appl.’s new,
OPEN HOUSE TODAY
call for appt. 646-555-0650
* * *
Taken.
* * *
Ave. A off Houston low fee,
500 sq ft studio, $1300
hwdflrs, sep kitchen, D/W
call 212-555-0003
* * *
LIES! ALL LIES!!!!!!!!!!
Oh God, I hate everyone. Wish I was dead.
* * *
To: Kate Mackenzie
Fr: Dale Carter
Re: Us
Hey. Scroggs’s brother is letting me borrow his computer. I’m still allowed to e-mail you, aren’t I? I mean, I know you won’t take my calls. And I guess you don’t like me dropping by your office, either.
But the thing is, Kate, I gotta talk to you. I mean, this is really messed up. I’m not used to not having you around. It’s like . . . weird.
And okay, I know I screwed things up, but I think you’re being a little harsh with this whole moving out thing. I mean, come on, Kate. You’re my—what’s it called—my lodestone. I can’t think about anything but you. It fully blows. I mean, remember when we were back in Luxor and we were all dreaming about coming to New York, how great it was going to be, and all? Well, I realize it didn’t turn out to be all that great, but Kate, it still can be. Tomorrow the guys and I are signing our record deal. We’re gonna be RICH, Kate. But it’s like I can’t even get jazzed about the bling, because you won’t be there to help me spend it.
I know I can’t give you what you want, Kate, but we could still have a really, really, really good time. I mean, the record company, they own a place in Baha. BAHA, babe! Think about it.
Well, anyway. That’s it. Peace out, and don’t let the man keep you down.
Dale
* * *
To: Dale Carter
Fr: Kate Mackenzie
Re: You
Touchstone, not lodestone. Baja, not Baha. And you can’t spend bling. Bling is what you spend money on.
Dale, trust me on this. I have come to the conclusion that I am just not cut out to be a rock musician’s girlfriend. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be instead. But I’m pretty sure it doesn’t involve going to Baja. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is. The sooner you accept that and move on, the happier you’ll be, Dale.
Love,
Kate
* * *
To: Devon Hildenbrandt
Fr: Amy Jenkins
Re: The earrings
Devon, you’re a goddess. Thanks so much for the loan of your sapphires for last night. They
looked perfect with my Barney’s shell.
Sorry I missed you at the soiree, but the place was packed. Did you see who WAS there, though? The supermodel Vivica! Although I thought she looked a little bit fat in that dress, didn’t you?
Anyway, I had a blast . . . except for the fact that I caught a glimpse of one of my employees there . . . one I’ve been having particular problems with lately. She’s apparently all cozied up with Dolly Vargas, the style editor. You know, it can be a little aggravating . . . I’ve worked at the Journal for almost five years, and I’ve never been asked out for so much as a cup of coffee with any of the editors, let alone anyone else on the staff. Well, I guess it just goes to show, you can pick your friends, but not your coworkers. Still, it’s a little irksome. She’s only been working for me for less than a year, but already she knows more people than I do.
But whatever. Like I was saying, thanks for the loan of the earrings. Fair warning: I’m going to be asking for a similar pair from Stuart for our first anniversary. They should go great with the sapphire cocktail ring I’ll be expecting after the birth of Stuart Jr., LOL!
I’ll see you at next week’s cocktail hour—it’s at Pop downtown, right? I’ll get your sapphires back to you then.
Kisses,
Amy
Amy Denise Jenkins
Director
Human Resources
The New York Journal
216 W. 57th Street
New York, NY 10019
212-555-6890
[email protected]
This e-mail is intended only for the use of the individual to which it is addressed and may contain information that is privileged and confidential. If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that you have received this transmission in error; any review, dissemination, distribution, or copying of this transmission is prohibited. If you have received this communication in error, please notify us immediately by reply e-mail and delete this message and all of its attachments.
* * *
To: Stacy Trent
Fr: Mitchell Hertzog
Re: Clarissa
What Clarissa and I did or did not do in that pool house is none of your concern. I went to the opening the other night because her current flame—some investment banker—is out of town, and she asked me to go with her, and as Michigan wasn’t playing, I thought, why not? I like art as much as the next guy.
So tell Mom not to get her hopes up. There’s not going to be any double wedding for me and Stuart.
Now, if you will excuse me, I have a week’s worth of Travel Channel to catch up with.
The Fucker
* * *
To: Kate Mackenzie
Fr: Amy Jenkins
Re: Dress Code
Kate, as I’m sure you’re aware, we at the Journal do try to maintain a professional demeanor.
That said, I don’t feel that the skirt you’re wearing this morning is quite an appropriate length for the office. Please see that it is taken out of the weekly rotation from this day forward.
Amy
Amy Denise Jenkins
Director
Human Resources
The New York Journal
216 W. 57th Street
New York, NY 10019
212-555-6890
[email protected]
This e-mail is intended only for the use of the individual to which it is addressed and may contain information that is privileged and confidential. If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that you have received this transmission in error; any review, dissemination, distribution, or copying of this transmission is prohibited. If you have received this communication in error, please notify us immediately by reply e-mail and delete this message and all of its attachments.
Katydid: The T.O.D. says my skirt is not appropriate officewear!
Sleaterkinneyfan: NO!!! What is wrong with that skirt? I’ll admit, it’s a bit on the short side, but I think you look adorable! The T.O.D. is just jealous because she doesn’t have the guts—or the imagination—to wear anything shorter than knee length.
Katydid: Either that or she just straight-out hates me. Dolly loaned this skirt to me. It’s Dolce and Gabbana! Suede!
Sleaterkinneyfan: I know how you are about suede. And joy of joys, no one has peed on that one. Unless Skiboy . . . No, that is going too far. Any particular reason you are clad in Dolly-wear today? Or did she stop you at the door and force it on you?
Katydid: Well, I AM having lunch with Mitch Hertzog. But it is a BUSINESS lunch.
Sleaterkinneyfan: I have bad news for you. That isn’t a very businessy skirt. Are you sure Dolly got the part about its being a business lunch?
Katydid: I explained to her that Mitch and I are meeting to discuss taking out a restraining order against Dale—
Sleaterkinneyfan: Oh. Well, in that case, it all makes sense. That looks like a restraining-order skirt if I ever saw one. But back to this lunch. When did this happen?
Katydid: Oh. When I saw him Saturday night at the opening.
Sleaterkinneyfan: Describe.
Katydid: Nothing to describe. He was there with a girl. A very pretty girl. She looked like a praying mantis. And she’s a Doyle, as in Hertzog Webber and Doyle.
Sleaterkinneyfan: Oh. Still, he’s having lunch with you, not her.
Katydid: A BUSINESS lunch.
Sleaterkinneyfan: Ergo, that ultra-businessy skirt.
Katydid: SHUT UP! Is it really that slutty? Will you trade skirts with me?
Sleaterkinneyfan: Are you kidding me? Then I’ll have to take a restraining order out against Rob the copy guy. Hey, did you get a load of the T.O.D.’s earrings?
Katydid: Yes. They are blinding me. A gift from Stuart, perhaps?
Sleaterkinneyfan: You know it. I can’t believe he’s giving her that kind of stuff, and they aren’t even married yet. It’s not even her birthday! You know the last present Craig gave me? A scale. Nice, huh?
Katydid: Hey, the last present Dale gave me was a drumstick. He said it was Flea’s. But I’m not so sure.
Sleaterkinneyfan: How was the apartment hunting?
Katydid: Well, if I had ten grand in my savings account for first and last month’s rent plus a security deposit, I’d be golden. But since I don’t, I guess it’s just going to have to be me, Dolly, Peter, and Skiboy. At least until I get my tax refund—and the lease runs out on my place with Dale, and I get my half of the deposit back. And I’m able to hock one pair of peed-on suede boots and my very valuable collected works of the Bangles.
Sleaterkinneyfan: Ouch. You know there’s always room at Chez Sadler.
Katydid: Thanks. You’re the best. I—Uh-oh, phone call. More later.
* * *
To: Jen Sadler
Fr: Kate Mackenzie
Re: My mother
I thought mothers were supposed to be sweet and supportive, and love you unconditionally. In fact, I distinctly remember Professor Wingblade telling us that mothers are the ONLY people who can be counted on for unconditional love.
So how come MY mother, instead of feeling badly for me that my boyfriend refuses to commit, is yelling at ME for putting too much pressure on him? I swear to God, my own mother likes my ex more than she likes me.
Kate
* * *
To: Kate Mackenzie
Fr: Jen Sadler
Re: Your mother
That’s just because she hasn’t seen you in that skirt yet.
No, seriously, your mother is currently driving across the country in an RV with a man ten years her junior who likes to whittle bird whistles. Okay? Like you’re really going to score points with this woman for breaking up with your soon-to-be-rock-star boyfriend. Did she tell
you that you should have just let yourself get “accidentally pregnant” and then you’d have been set for life? Ten to one she did. Is this the sign of a woman playing with a full deck?
J
* * *
To: Jen Sadler
Fr: Kate Mackenzie
Re: My mother
YES! Oh my God, did you get struck by lightning, or something? Because you’re clairvoyant.
Like I would want to get a husband THAT way. Like having a husband is even that important to me. I mean, you can be a fully rounded human being and not be married, you know. In fact, remember how Professor Wingblade told us that the overall happiness level of marrieds vs. singles was higher in singles? What does THAT say to you?
Oh, sorry. I forgot you were married there for a second.
