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) onCribs . 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 <jennifer.sadler@thenyjournal.com>

Fr: Kate Mackenzie <katydid@freemail.com>

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 <katydid@freemail.com>

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

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 <jennifer.sadler@thenyjournal.com>

Fr: Kate Mackenzie <katydid@freemail.com>

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 . . .

Well, is it really my fault, what happened next?

Jen, he was so gentle and nice and STRONG (he CARRIED me from the kitchen to the bedroom) and underneath his clothes he is as much of a superhero as the ones on his ties, that wheelchair-basketball thing must be some workout, let me tell you.

And I know I’ve only been with one other guy before, and don’t have a wide and varied experience to draw upon, but, Jen, I have to say . . . lawyers really DO do it better.

Or maybe it’s just Mitch.

In any case, I didn’t get much sleep, but I don’t care, I don’t feel tired or anything, just . . . HAPPY! Happier than I’ve felt in weeks. Maybe even years. Jen! He loves me! He told me! He loved me from the moment he first saw me, in the conference room, when I was dribbling on about chicken in garlic sauce! Remember how I told you about that?

Well, the whole time, he loved me, and was trying to figure out ways to get me to love him back, seeing as how he knew I hated lawyers, what with the whole Mrs. Lopez thing. He thought that if he could prove Amy lied about the letter that day I gave my second deposition, it would show me that he was really on my side—on Mrs. Lopez’s side—and that then I might start to like him. But then the whole thing backfired, and instead of getting Amy in trouble, he got ME in trouble, and he just felt awful, and, JEN!!!!

HE LOVES ME!!!!

Oh, what did I ever do to deserve such a great guy?

He wants me to move in.

But you would be really proud of me, Jen. I said no. I said it was too soon. I said I needed to get my job back first—or some job, anyway—and then we could talk about it.

We made breakfast together, and shared a cab downtown. JUST LIKE HARRISON FORD AND MELANIE GRIFFITH INWORKING GIRL !!!!!!

Oh my God, I’m so happy, I’m telling you, even if I don’t get my job back, I wouldn’t care. I have HIM!

Well, okay, I wouldn’t care much.

Oh, all right, I’d care. Have you heard anything?

Kate


To: Kate Mackenzie <katydid@freemail.com>

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

Re: Last night

Sorry. Can’t talk now. Must go into ladies’ room to splash cold water on face.

J


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

Fr: Stuart Hertzog<stuart.hertzog@hwd.com>

Re: Work

You remember work, don’t you, Mitch? It’s that place we all come to every day and sit at things called desks, and type on things called computers, and try things called LEGAL CASES.

It might behoove you to remember that you have a job, and that it starts at nine sharp. Not nine thirty, as you seem to think. You can’t just come waltzing in here any time you damn please, just because you’re the boss’s son, you know.

Speaking of which, when Dad gets back, your ass is grass. When he hears that shit you pulled at the Lopez depo, you’ll be back downtown, defending the Gomez brothers for assault and battery, or whatever the fuck it is you used to do all day.

Stuart

Stuart Hertzog, Senior Partner

Hertzog Webber and Doyle, Attorneys at Law

444 Madison Avenue, Suite 1505

New York, NY 10022

212-555-7900


To: Stuart Hertzog<stuart.hertzog@hwd.com>

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

Re: Work

Promise?

Mitch


To: Amy Jenkins <amy.jenkins@thenyjournal.com>

Fr: Stuart Hertzog<stuart.hertzog@hwd.com>

Re: You

My angel. I can’t tell you what your last missive meant to me. The fact that you will still have me, in spite of my deficiency, means more to me than all the money in the world. Can I take you some place nice for lunch, to celebrate? Daniel, perhaps? Please let me know.

Stuart

Stuart Hertzog, Senior Partner

Hertzog Webber and Doyle, Attorneys at Law

444 Madison Avenue, Suite 1505

New York, NY 10022

212-555-7900


To: Stuart Hertzog <stuart.hertzog@hwd.com>

Fr: Amy Jenkins <amy.jenkins@thenyjournal.com>

Re: You

Daniel sounds divine! One o’clock okay?

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: Courtney Allington <courtney.allington@alingtonenterpises.com>

Fr: Amy Jenkins <amy.jenkins@thenyjournal.com>

Re: Hey

I haven’t heard back from you. Usually your replies are so prompt. Did you get my last, about Stuart being Jewish? I tried calling just now, but your assistant said you were in meetings all morning. Drinks after work? Let me know.

Ames

P.S. Courtney, the fact that my fiancé is Jewish—that doesn’t bother you, does it? I mean, he’s not a PRACTICING Jew. He’s just of Jewish descent. I mean, it’s not like he goes around in a yarmulke or anything. As if!

Ames

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: Amy Jenkins <amy.jenkins@thenyjournal.com>

Fr: Penny Croft <penelope.croft@thenyjournal.com>

Re: Meeting with Peter

Amy, Peter Hargrave would like to meet with you this morning at eleven. Please phone me to let me know whether or not you can make it. If not, can we reschedule? He really must meet with you at some point today.

Penny

Penny Croft

Assistant to Peter Hargrave

Founder and CEO of

The New York Journal


To: Stuart Hertzog <stuart.hertzog@thenyjournal.com>

Fr: Amy Jenkins <amy.jenkins@thenyjournal.com>

Re: Promotion

Stuart, darling, remember that position I told you I applied for—vice president of Employee Development? Well, I just got an e-mail from Peter Hargrave’s assistant, wanting to schedule an appointment with the big man himself. Honey, I think it’s happened! I’m going to be a VP!