So if you don’t mind, Kate, could you call me on my cell at your convenience? The number is 917-555-4532. And if you could just answer true or false on the topics below, I would really appreciate it.

Love,

Vivica

1) My ex has never attempted to murder someone for the inheritance money.

T or F

2) My ex is appreciative of the fine arts, such as driftwood sculpture.

T or F

3) My ex would never have sex with a hotel maid while I was at the beach.

T or F

4) My ex would never lie about having a job and then try to borrow my money and never pay it back.

T or F

5) My ex has never borrowed my Christian Dior thong and stretched it all out.

T or F

6) My ex enjoys exotic cuisine, such as onion blossoms from TGI Friday’s.

T or F

7) My ex is fond of animals.

T or F

8) My ex is respectful of his mother/sisters/aunts.

T or F

9) My ex has never asked another person to pose as him in order to dupe a reporter into thinking he is somewhere he is not.

T or F

10) My ex does not snore.

T or F

Thanks bunches!

V


To: Kate Mackenzie <katydid@freemail.com>

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

Re: Hi

Remember me? Okay, stupid question.

Wait, before you hit the Delete button, hear me out—or read me out, anyway.

I had absolutely no right to do what I did. And I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am. I completely and totally screwed up. My intention, for what it’s worth, was twofold—and I could probably be disbarred for admitting this, but what the hell: 1) to get Ida her job back—no one who makes brownies like that should be out of work, and 2) to show my brother what kind of girl he’s marrying, by forcing my future sister-in-law into revealing what kind of two-faced liar she really is.

I should have known Ms. Jenkins would react the way she did. She is, after all, cut from the same cloth as my brother.

I know you didn’t write that letter, Kate. I know Amy wrote it, forged your signature and Ida Lopez’s initials on it, and then stuck it in Ida’s file. I’m betting she didn’t do it until after Ida filed for breach of contract, when Amy must have realized she’d been a little too cavalier with union regulations in her zeal to appease my brother’s wounded pride.

What I’m really writing to say—besides I’m sorry—is that I don’t want you to worry about any of this, because I’m going to get your job back.

And then we’ll see how your boss likes being on the receiving instead of the sending end of a letter of termination for a change.

Listen, we really should get together and talk about this. What are you doing tonight? If you’re not feeling too vodka-and-tonicked out, why don’t you come over to my place for dinner? It might be safer than dining out. At least for my wardrobe.

Please don’t say no. I owe you dinner, at the very least.

Mitch

Journal of Kate Mackenzie

Help.

Pain. Intense pain, radiating from behind eye sockets. Can barely move.

What HAPPENED? Oooooh, writing in capitals is hurting my eyes. But really . . . what DID happen last night? It’s all starting to come back, but only in patches. I remember . . . Skiboy. I remember Skiboy being really nice to me.

But why? Why would Skiboy be nice to me? He’s Dolly’s boyfriend. Something to do with my job, I know but . . .

Ooooh. That’s right. I have no job. I have no job anymore. Which is good, because it’s . . . 12:45 in the afternoon, which means if I did have a job, I would be three hours and forty-five minutes late for it now.

Amy. Amy fired me. That stupid cow. I can’t believe she did that.

Jen. Did Jen come over last night? I seem to dimly remember—

Oh. My. God.

Jen did come over last night. To check on me. But so did—

MITCH HERTZOG!

Mitch Hertzog came over last night to check on me. Only I was PLASTERED. And . . . oh my God. I think I threw up on him.

Okay. Okay, deep breath. Just get to the phone. Just get to the phone to call Jen and see if I really did throw up on Mitch Hertzog. Maybe it was all a bad dream. . . .

It wasn’t a dream. I just got off phone with Jen. I really did throw up on Mitch Hertzog. On his shoes, no less.

Oh! And he had on really nice shoes! They were wingtips. Jen says there were chunks of vomit stuck in the little punched-out places. . . .

To which all I can say is . . . Good.

Oh, God. If I had anything left to throw up, I’d throw it up now.

WHY did I let Skiboy fix me all those drinks? Why didn’t I just say no? Oh my God, now on top of being homeless, jobless, and boyfriendless, I’m an alcoholic. They’re going to have to send me to the Betty Ford Clinic.

Only I can’t afford to go there, because I don’t have any health insurance, because I lost my job.

Jen says Mitch was really very kind and concerned about me last night. Great. The person who is responsible for getting me fired was kind and concerned about me last night. As I was yakking on his shoes.

WHY didn’t I see any of this coming? Not the being-hung-over-from-drinking-with-Skiboy thing. The losing-my-job thing. My God, I just WALKED into it, didn’t I? Amy’s little trap.

Of course, I had an excellent guide steering me along . . . Mr. Mitch Hertzog.

Hertzog. God. It evensounds as if I’m hurling up an evening’s worth of vodka and tonics when I say it. Hertzog. Hertzog. Amy HURTS OGG.

Oh God, I wish I were dead.

Good morning, roomie! Just a note to say I know you probably feel likemerde ce matin . Never fear, I’m the queen of hangovers. There’s tomato juice in the fridge, and Vitamin B in my medicine cabinet.

And don’t worry about the bathmat. Hortense comes on Thursdays. She’s a whiz with stains of any kind.

Skiboy said he had a fabulous time last night. Apparently you are very entertaining when you’re sloshed. He said you sang him the Kentucky State song. We should make a point to go out for karaoke one night—you and me and Skiboy. It’ll be a blast!

Anyway, be a lamb, and if any packages come for Skiboy via UPS, make sure you hide them away somewhere, just in case Peter comes home unexpectedly. I don’t want any unpleasant surprises, if you know what I mean.

Feel better, and use my Jacuzzi, if you think it will help.

Ciao,

XXXOOO

Dolly


To: Kate Mackenzie <katydid@freemail.com>

Fr: Jen Sadler <jennifer.sadler@thenyjournal.com>

Re: You

Hey, you. You okay? How you holding up? You had a lot of people worried about you. Your lawyer friend seems like a really nice guy. Attentive, too. Call me if you want to talk.

J


To: Jen Sadler <jennifer.sadler@thenyjournal.com>

Fr: Kate Mackenzie <katydid@freemail.com>

Re: Me

Yeah, a real nice guy. A real nice guy who got me fired.

Oh, and as if things weren’t bad enough, guess what I got this morning? I mean, besides an apology from Mitch—which is not anywhere near groveling enough, in my opinion. He had the nerve to ask me to dinner. Yeah! Dinner! Like that’s going to help get my job back.

I got an e-mail from VIVICA. You know, the supermodel? The one who does the Victoria’s Secret ads on TV?

Yeah. Guess who she’s interested in dating? Dale. But she wanted my input first. I’m Not Making Any More Sandwiches played at a fashion show, and she met him there. She wants to go out with him, but she doesn’t want to pursue it any further unless he likes driftwood sculptures, or something. I don’t know. I was too hung over to read her e-mail properly.

God. I should have just stayed in Kentucky. Seriously.

Kate


To: Kate Mackenzie <katydid@freemail.com>

Fr: Jen Sadler <jennifer.sadler@thenyjournal.com>

Re: You

No, you should not have stayed in Kentucky. If you had stayed in Kentucky, you never would have stopped wearing blue eyeshadow. Seriously, Kate, it was not a good look for you.

Also . . . you might never have met Mitch.

Kate, I know you might not believe this, but the guy was really hurting last night. He feels TERRIBLE about what happened with you and Amy. I really don’t think he saw it coming. I don’t know what exactly went down at the deposition—he told me a little about it—but his intention was NEVER to get you fired. I really think he’s on our side in all of this, Kate. I think he wanted to help get Mrs. Lopez’s job back . . . because he thought that’s what YOU wanted.

I think he also wanted to make Amy look like a liar, but whatever, that one backfired pretty badly, too.

I know you probably don’t feel too forgiving right now, but really, I think the guy meant well. And he didn’t even blink about his shoes. Yourbarf isn’t even gross to him. That has to mean something.

You know what he does, to stay in such great shape? Mitch, I mean? He volunteers at the Y. That’s how he got all those muscles you told me about. He plays wheelchair basketball. With paralyzed guys, you know?

Would a guy like that REALLY purposefully try to make a girl lose her job? No.

Now snap out of it. We’re going to get your job back. I promise.

And call the guy and say you’ll go to dinner with him.

J


To: Jen Sadler <jennifer.sadler@thenyjournal.com>

Fr: Kate Mackenzie <katydid@freemail.com>

Re: Me

Are you HIGH???? I’m not going to have dinner with Mitch Hertzog. Even if it is true about the wheelchair basketball. Or are you just saying that to get me to like him? Because if I find out it’s not true . . .

Not that it matters. THE GUY GOT ME FIRED, JEN.

And okay, maybe you’re right, and he didn’t mean it, and genuinely feels bad about it. But the fact is, I DON’T HAVE A JOB. Or a PERMANENT ADDRESS. Or . . . ANYTHING.

So even if he DOES like me and my barf, what do I have to bring to the relationship? Yeah, that’d be a big zero.

So what’s the point of having dinner with him? Because what would a totally PERFECT, WHEELCHAIR-BASKETBALL-PLAYING GUY LIKE THAT EVER SEE IN A JOBLESS REJECT LIKE ME????

Going to put my head in the oven.

Kate


To: Kate Mackenzie <katydid@freemail.com>

Fr: Jen Sadler <jennifer.sadler@thenyjournal.com>

Re: You

Fwd: l Say it isn’t so! l Kate l Kate

Well, before you kill yourself, check out these e-mails from your personnel. Do these sound like they’re from people who think you’re a reject? DO THEY?


Fwd: <katydid@freemail.com>

To: Jen Sadler <jennifer.sadler@thenyjournal.com>

Fr: Nadine Wilcock-Salerno <nadine.salerno@thenyjournal.com>

Re: Say it isn’t so!

Is it really true? Kate got the axe? But WHY? She was the nicest personnel rep this stupid company ever had (present company excluded, of course)!

This REEKS of Amy Jenkins. Is she behind this? I knew that bitch was up to something the other day in the staff dining room, when I saw her actually lift a piece of buttered bread to her lips. I haven’t seen her go off Atkins in two years . . . I should have known she was celebrating.

What can I do to help get Kate back? Because if Amy thinks we’re lying down for this one, she’s high. She can tell us to be sweeties and wipe the seaties, and she can take away our Dessert Lady. But she can’t fire Kate and get away with it. No way.

Nad:-(


Fwd: l <katydid@freemail.com>

To: Jen Sadler <jennifer.sadler@thenyjournal.com>

Fr: Mel Fuller-Trent <melissa.trent@trentcapital.com>

Re: Kate

Oh my God! Is it really true? Amy fired Kate? Why? Not for tardiness, I hope.

Jen, this is awful. Kate was SO nice to me when they were giving me that grief about going part-time. We have to DO something! What can I do? The Trents love holding benefits. Can we hold a benefit? For Kate? Just let me know, PLEASE!!!!

Mel


Fwd:<katydid@freemail.com>

To: Jen Sadler <Jennifer.sadler@thenyjournal.com>

Fr: Tim Grabowski <timothy.grabowski@thenyjournal.com>

Re: Kate

I just heard. This means war. The T.O.D.’s aware of that, isn’t she? That in firing Kate, she’s alienating the entire Tech Dept? Because there isn’t a guy here who wouldn’t walk over hot coals for Kate. She’s the only one in that damn office (not including you, Jen) who treated us computer guys with anything remotely resembling respect. Not to mention compassion.