Meg Cabot - Boy Meets Girl

Re: Trust Games

Who cares? WE WON!!!!! I am telling you, it is only a matter of time until we take over this place, you and me. It’ll be Kate and Jen’s Free Therapy Clinic in no time! Just you wait and see!

J

To: Jen Sadler

Fr: Kate Mackenzie

Re: Trust Games

Um, yeah, okay, CALIGULA.

I just got a call from Amy. She wants me in her office STAT. She actually said that. What does she think this is, anyway, an emergency room? Is she defibrillating a heart in there, or just filing people’s 1099s?

I hope we open up Kate and Jen’s Free Therapy Clinic soon.

Kate

To: Kate Mackenzie

Fr: Amy Jenkins

Re: Tomorrow

To review what we just discussed, tomorrow morning you and I will appear at 9 a.m. in the offices of Hertzog Webber and Doyle to be further deposed in the matter of Lopez vs. the New York Journal . You will be dressed in a professional manner. You will answer all questions put to you in a truthful manner. You will not, however, say anything that could be construed as not reflecting positively on your employer.

This is a serious matter, Kate, and I am counting on you to handle it in that way, and not allow whatever personal feelings you might have for the employee involved to cloud your better judgment.

Amy

Amy Denise Jenkins

Director

Human Resources

The New York Journal

216 W. 57th Street

New York, NY 10019

212-555-6890

amy.jenkins@thenyjournal.com

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: Mitchell Hertzog

Fr: Sean

Re: Mom

Look, I’m sorry I interrupted your important business lunch or whatever it was, but seriously, I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this. She is a FREAK, all right? A FREAK.

Guess what she did NOW. Go on. Guess. I go to the mall for one frigging hour to see if they have the new X-Men comic in, and what does she do? WHAT DOES SHE DO?

She sprays everything in my room with that drug-detecting spray.

I am not even kidding. You know that spray you can buy on TV for like $19.95 or whatever? That spray that turns a color if there’s drug residue on whatever object you’re spraying?

Well, she sprayed that shit ALL OVER my room.

And OF COURSE I don’t do drugs—at least, not at HOME, I’m not a MORON—so OF COURSE the shit didn’t turn a color.

But guess what? EVERYTHING IN MY ROOM IS STICKY. Seriously. It’s like Stacy’s freaking twins have been here. I mean, even my LEATHER JACKET is sticky! The leather jacket I had to save for MONTHS to buy, because you know Mom won’t let me go near the money Gramps left me. I mean, I had to work the graveyard shift in the quad store for that jacket.

And now it’s like one of those adhesive fly strips. I’m not kidding. There was actually a moth stuck to it already by the time I got home.

I confronted Mom about it, and she says—get this—STUART told her to do it. STUART. Mr. Just Say No himself.

I can’t stand it here anymore, Mitch. I think there’s a very good chance I might go completely mental and take her goddamn Madame Alexander doll collection and put it out with the rest of the garbage where it BELONGS!!!!

Or do you think I’m overreacting? But think about it, Mitch: My UNDERWEAR is sticky. And not because I’ve been having any fun in them!!!!

Sean

To: Sean

Fr: Mitchell Hertzog

Re: Mom

Thanks for those last couple of lines about your underwear. That’s really something every guy wants to know about his little sister. Not.

Look, I told you, you’re welcome to stay with me anytime you want. But keep in mind the only way you’re going to convince Mom and Dad that you’re all right to go back to college is if you play it their way for a few months. If you cool it on the hair dye and the diatribes at the dinner table against gross materialism, you should have them eating out of your hand by the time apps for fall semester come rolling around.

Keep your chin up, and send everything to be dry-cleaned . . . at Mom’s expense, of course.

Mitch

To: Kate Mackenzie

Fr: Dolly Vargas

Re: You

Darling, it was SO sweet of you to pretend to be Skiboy’s girlfriend yesterday. You really are an INVALUABLE little roomie. I can’t imagine what I ever did without you.

Now, I’m going to have a late night tonight—the fall shows, don’t you know—so if you wouldn’t mind just letting Skiboy in when he shows up—it will probably be around nine—I’d love you forever. He’s had some entanglement with his landlord—I don’t know what, I try not to pay attention when he talks, he’s so dull. But those shoulders! Oh!

He promises not to be any trouble. And no need to worry about Peter, he’s got his golf lesson at Chelsea Piers tonight, so we won’t be seeing him until Wednesday at the earliest.

Ciao!

XXXOOO

Dolly

To: Kate Mackenzie

Fr: Dale Carter

Re: Lunch

Okay, so I know I owe you an apology for that whole thing today at the restaurant. I’m really sorry. In fact, I’m so sorry, I already wrote a song about it. It’s called “Chicken a la Kate.” Will you PLEASE come to our gig tonight so you can hear me sing it? We’ll be playing over at Bryant Park, for one of the designers for the fall fashion runway shows. It’s our first official gig with our new label.

And in spite of what Scroggs thinks, we are not sellouts to be playing at a fashion show. I mean, isn’t that what life is, really? A fashion show?

So was that guy I poured chicken on really your lawyer? Or is he like your new boyfriend? Because it looked to me like he likes you as more than just, you know, somebody he’s lawyering for.

Dale

To: Dale Carter

Fr: Kate Mackenzie

Re: Chicken

Client. The people lawyers do their “lawyering” for are called clients. And that is what I am to Mitch Hertzog. His client. That’s all.

But Dale, you seriously have to give up on the whole trying-to-get-me-back thing. Because I’m not coming back. I’m not saying I don’t still love you—there’s a part of me that will probably always love you. But during this time I’ve spent away from you, I’ve realized something, and that’s that I’m not in love with you anymore. I don’t think I have been for some time.

And it’s not just because you won’t make a commitment. It’s because I realize now you and I have completely different values and goals in life. I mean, really, Dale, what am I going to do when you and the band go on tour? Follow you around the country? I’m not a groupie. That wouldn’t make me happy. What makes me happy is helping people.

And don’t say that YOU need my help and that that should be enough for me. I’m not talking about looking after someone’s bowling shoes or keeping the apartment stocked with coffee filters. I’m talking about helping people to make career and life choices. I know it may not seem like it sometimes, but ultimately, when things are going the way they should, that’s what I do here at the Journal . And I really really love it.

But even you have to admit that my job and your job are totally incompatible. I mean, how many rock stars have you seen on Behind the Music who are married to human resource representatives? Not even one.

So Dale, please, please, please move on. I’m not coming back, not ever, and I know that, in time, you’ll see this is for the best.