Meg Cabot - Boy Meets Girl

But is it entirely necessary for them to loll around on the couch RIGHT NEXT TO ME, with their TONGUES DOWN EACH OTHER’S THROATS?

Because that’s what they’re doing at this moment, and it is really kind of gross. I mean, Dolly could easily go into her bedroom to stick her tongue down her boyfriend’s throat. I have a feeling they’d both be a lot more comfortable.

But NOOOOO, she has to do it here, right in front of me, and practically blocking my view of Mariah Carey’s palatial—

Journal of Kate Mackenzie

Sorry about that. As I was writing that last bit, the front door burst open, and Peter Hargrave came in. That’s right, Peter Hargrave, the owner and CEO of the New York Journal, and Dolly’s boyfriend, the guy who set her up in this fabulous pad in the first place?

And did his face go all shades of purple when he saw Dolly on top of Skiboy!

But the thing is, even though I don’t approve of cheating—even if you aren’t married to the person—I owe Dolly a lot. I mean, she’s let me live in her place rent-free, and eat all the Rye-Krisps and drink all the Tab I want. Which is pretty generous, you know.

So when I saw Peter’s face, and how the veins were sticking out all over it and everything, I went, “Okay, okay, you made your point. You’re a better kisser than I am, Dolly. Now give me my boyfriend back. Oh, hi, PETER!”

When Dolly heard Peter’s name, she dropped Skiboy like he was a piping-hot thermal massage rock. She stood up and went, “Dahling!” and threw her arms around Peter like he had been away at the war or something.

Then I pulled Skiboy down next to me and put my arms around him, you know, to make it seem like we were a couple.

Peter just kept looking at Skiboy like he was Osama bin Laden, live in the flesh in his very living room.

“Playing a little game, are we, ladies?” he asked, in this kind of choked-up voice.

“Yes,” I said. “Dolly was just showing me that I don’t kiss right. Weren’t you, Dolly?”

“Absolutely,” Dolly said. Then she looked up at Peter, with her dewy, Botox-injected face, and went, “Katie doesn’t use enough tongue.”

Well, I guess there’s nothing that gets CEOs of major publishing corporations hotter than the use of the word tongue, since Peter wrapped his arms around Dolly and said, “I’ve missed you so much,” and stuck his own big fat one right in her ear.

Which, you know, ew, but whatever floats your boat.

Then Skiboy—I swear, he has a real feel for the theatrical—stuck his own tongue right in my ear.

So now we’re all sitting here—me and Skiboy, Dolly and Peter—drinking Campari and watching B2K (what is with the all-white living rooms) on Cribs . I’m waiting for just the right moment to bring up the whole How I Got Fired thing. Dolly said she’d work on it for me, but it’s clear Peter doesn’t know a thing. He’s too busy sniffing Dolly’s hair. Geez, it’s just Aveda.

Ew, Skiboy is still nuzzling me. He is taking this whole thing way too far. If he doesn’t watch it, I may have to break up with him right in front of Dolly and Peter. Get off—why is the doorman buzzing at freaking midnight?

Sleaterkinneyfan:

So? What’s happening?

Sleaterkinney:

Oh my God. Where are you?

Sleaterkinneyfan:

I’m upstairs, in Peter’s office. His assistant Penny is letting me use the intern’s computer. So WHAT’S HAPPENING?????

Sleaterkinneyfan:

No. Uh-uh. No way. You go first. What happened after Tim and Eddie and I left? Come on. SPILL.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

You mean, after we made Skiboy put a steak on his eye?

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Poor Skiboy. He never saw it coming, did he?

Sleaterkinneyfan:

I know! I never had a guy hit another guy over me. I mean, once at a New Year’s party Scroggs felt me up, but Dale just thought it was funny.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

When we walked in and Mitch saw that big dope with his arms all draped around you, I really thought he was going to have a coronary. Mitch, I mean. He hit him HARD. Does Dolly mind?

Sleaterkinneyfan:

About Skiboy’s black eye? Or her grand piano?

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Both. Either.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

I think she was more worried about the piano than Skiboy. But that thing needed tuning anyway.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Okay. So what happened after the steak?

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Well, Mitch suggested we go out for a drink. To celebrate.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

At MIDNIGHT? Where the hell did you go???

Sleaterkinneyfan:

His place.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

You spill it all right NOW.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Not on IM! What if the T.O.D. is lurking?

Sleaterkinneyfan:

She’s lurked her last. But you’re right. E-mail me. I want DETAILS.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

logged off

Sleaterkinneyfan:

logged off

To: Jen Sadler

Fr: Kate Mackenzie

Re: Last night

First of all, can I just say, because I don’t think I was really all that intelligible last night, I was so stunned, what an incredible, cool, giving, generous, cool, smart, incredible friend you are? NO ONE has ever done anything like this for me before. I mean, you and Tim risked your JOBS for me. That is just the sweetest thing anyone has ever, ever, ever done for me.

I mean it. I just wish there was something I could do for you.

Kate

To: Kate Mackenzie

Fr: Jen Sadler

Re: Last night

Those weren’t the kinds of details I was looking for.

And duh. You are my best friend, Kate. Of course I’m going to help you any way I can.

Besides, I didn’t really do anything. It was all Mitch’s idea. He talked to Tim. He hired Eddie. All I did was come back to the office last night after everybody had gone home and signed them both in. They did the rest . . . well, with Tim’s help.

You would, I know, have done the same for me.

Now. Details please. And remember that I am an old married lady and on massive amounts of hormones. So make it good.

J

To: Jen Sadler

Fr: Kate Mackenzie

Re: Last night

Okay. Well.

You know, after you guys came in with the good news—at least, I hope it will turn out to be good news. If Peter really does what he said he was going to do, anyway—and Mitch hit Skiboy and I pretended to break up with him (SB, I mean) and we got the whole thing straightened out and everything, Mitch was like, “Let’s get out of here,” and I was like, “Why?” and he was like, “Because of that,” and there was Skiboy, you know, all dejected on the couch.

And it WAS kind of depressing, what with Dolly and Peter making out right in front of him.

So, Jen, I went with him. You know he doesn’t live that far away, it was just a few blocks’ walk, and it really WAS just supposed to be to have drinks until things back at Dolly’s cooled off a little. . . . I didn’t imagine it would be anything more than a drink or two, and all, because you know I thought his little sister was still there.

But then we got to his place and I asked where Sean was and he said she’d left a note saying she was going to his sister’s in Greenwich. . . .

. . . and that’s when I realized I was in big trouble.

And oh! Jen, I know I shouldn’t have, but he has such really nice lips, and he’d just committed a burglary for me, and hit Skiboy, and his knuckles were all raw so I was running them under the tap in the kitchen, when I happened to look up, and there were those lips, and . . .