And then Mitch said, “Really? I thought it was the crowd, myself. I can’t stand all the glad-handing.”

And then a cab pulled up, and Mitch opened the door for me and put me inside and told the driver where to go. Then he looked at me, and went, “See you on Monday, Kate.”

I had time to say only, “See you on Monday, and thanks—“ before he shut the door on me. And then the driver took me home.

And so now I’m lying here—Dolly and Skiboy aren’t back yet. Maybe they won’t come back tonight. Maybe they’ll go to his place. Though I can’t imagine Skiboy’s place is better than Dolly’s—and I’m wondering to myself . . .

Well, just how did Mitch Hertzog know Dolly’s exact address, anyway? Because he did. He gave it to the cab driver.

I wonder if HE ever wandered around this place in his tightie whities.

No. Surely not. He is definitely a boxers man.


To: Mitchell Hertzog <mitchell.hertzog@hwd.com>

Fr: Clarissa Doyle <clarissa.doyle@hwd.com>

Re: Your little waif

Well, haven’t you gone all Galahad. Your little Lady Elaine is adorable. But you ought to tell her it isn’t good form to leave the ball before midnight. She missed all the fireworks between you and Stuart. What WAS he so upset about?

I can’t say much for that creature he’s marrying. She looks like somebody shoved a Manolo Blahnik up her ass.

When you can drag yourself away from Cinderella, sweet prince, do you think you could give me a call about the Brinker-Hoffman case?

C


To: Mitchell Hertzog <mitchell.hertzog@hwd.com>

Fr: Haley and Brittany <WELUVBARNEY@trentcapital.com>

Re: You

Uncle Mitch! We had fun yesterday. You should come over more often. We really liked how red you made Uncle Stuart’s face, when he was yelling at you in the garage. Can you do that again, next time you come?

So Uncle Stuart is marrying that lady? Mom says she’s going to be our aunt Amy. She’s okay, except she wouldn’t try any peanut butter M&M chocolate chip fudge cookies. They were good—you ate five, remember? But she said she was on a special diet, and couldn’t eat something called carbs. We told her we didn’t put any carbs in our cookies, just M&Ms, but she said M&Ms were carbs.

Uncle Mitch, what’s carbs?

Well, that’s all. Thank you for the Barbie video, we put it on and turned it up REAL loud this morning, just like you said. You were right: Daddy does look funny when he runs downstairs screaming with his hair all standing up.

Love,

Haley and Brittany

(and Little John, too little to work the computer)


To: Mitchell Hertzog <mitchell.hertzog@hwd.com>

Fr: Stacy Trent <IH8BARNEY@freemail.com>

Re: You

Heard from Stuie this morning. He says he saw you at the museum last night with Clarissa Doyle. Tell me you two are not dating again. I thought you guys figured out you were completely incompatible way back in 9th grade, when she deflowered you behind the pool house.

Naughty.

Stace

Hi, you’ve reached Kate and Dale. We can’t come to the phone right now, but please leave a message at the tone, and we’ll get back to you.

(Tone)

 

Hi, Katie! It’s Mom again! You never returned my call. I just wanted to let you know, Charlie and I are in Sante Fe. Sante Fe, New Mexico. Oh, it’s just lovely here, you and Dale have to come visit us sometime. The air is so—

“H-hello?”

“Hello? Dale? Is that you? It’s Carol, Dale.”

“Oh. Mrs. Mackenzie. Hey. How’s it going.”

“Did I wake you, Dale? I’m so sorry. The time difference. Let’s see, it’s noon here, which means it must be . . . three in the afternoon there. Dale, what are you still doing in bed at three in the afternoon?”

“I had a gig last night. I didn’t get home till five.”

“Oh. I see. Well. Is Katie there? Let me talk to Katie, and you can go back to sleep.”

“Mrs. M., Katie moved out.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Like a month ago.”

“Katie moved OUT?”

“

Yeah. I thought . . . you mean, you haven’t heard from her?”

“No. No, not since Colorado. Right, Charlie? Didn’t we talk to Katie in Denver? But that was only last week, and she didn’t say anything about—“

“She probably didn’t want to worry you.”

“Oh. Oh, dear, you’re probably right. Well, what happened, Dale? Did you two have a fight?”

“Yeah. I guess so. I don’t know. She started talking all crazy about marriage, and wasting the best years of her life, and wanting a commitment and shit. But you know, Mrs. M. I gotta take it one day at a time.”

“Well, of course you do, Dale. You don’t want to be tied down, any more than I want to be tied down, or Charlie. That’s why we’re driving cross-country, never staying in any one place too long. But you know, Katie’s always been a little on the conventional side. She never liked it when we traveled, not even the time we went to Disneyworld.”

“Yeah. She said she wouldn’t go on tour with us. If we ever get a tour, I mean.”

“Hmmm. That sounds like Kate. Well, tell you what, Dale. Give me her number. Is she staying with Jen? I’ll give her a call—“

“She

was

staying with Jen. But Jen said she moved out. So now I don’t know where she’s staying.”

“Wait a minute. You don’t know where Kate is?”

“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 <katydid@freemail.com>

Fr: Jen Sadler <sleaterkinneyfan@freemail.com

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 <sleaterkinneyfan@freemail.com

Fr: Kate Mackenzie <katydid@freemail.com>

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 <sleaterkinneyfan@freemail.com>

Fr: Kate Mackenzie <katydid@freemail.com>

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 <katydid@freemail.com>

Fr: Jen Sadler <sleaterkinneyfan@freemail.com>

Re: Peter H Alert!!!!

DON’T LEAVE ME HANGING HERE!!!! WHAT HAPPENED????


To: Jen Sadler <sleaterkinneyfan@freemail.com>

Fr: Kate Mackenzie <katydid@freemail.com>

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 SundayTimes 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 <katydid@freemail.com>

Fr: Dale Carter <imnotmakinganymoresandwiches@freemail.com>

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 <imnotmakinganymoresandwiches@freemail.com>

Fr: Kate Mackenzie <katydid@freemail.com>

Re: You

Touchstone, not lodestone. Baja, not Baha. And you can’t spend bling. Bling is what you spend moneyon .

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 <devonhildenbrandt@hildenbrandtindustries.com>