Mother
To: Margaret Hertzog <margaret.hertzog@hwd.com>
Fr: Mitchell Hertzog <mitchell.hertzog@hwd.com>
Re: The News
If you’d stop feeling sorry for yourself for half a second, Mom, and take a look around, you might notice something. That’s right. You’re all alone. You’re all alone, because you, like Stuart, have managed to alienate everyone you know, too. For instance, your daughter Janice. Where is Janice, Mom? Do you know? You don’t, do you? That’s because she’s RUN AWAY. No one knows where she is right now. Your youngest child is missing, and all you can seem to think about is the fact that you married a Jew.
Get over it, Mom. For once in your life think about someone other than yourself. And then do us all a favor and GROW UP.
Mitch
To: Stuart Hertzog <stuart.hertzog@hwd.com>
Fr: Amy Jenkins <amy.jenkins2000@freemail.com>
Re: WHERE ARE YOU???
I’ve been calling and calling. Your assistant says you’re on a conference call. Well, get OUT OF IT. Stuart, I’ve been FIRED! FIRED! That bastard brother of yours—I don’t know how he did it—but somehow he got his hands on an e-mail I sent to that bitch Kate—I really thought I’d deleted all the copies, but I guess I forgot the one in mysend file—and he got it to Peter Hargrave who fired me for forgery and insubordination, and Stuart, I HAVE NO JOB!!!! I HAVE NO JOB NOW, and it’s all that bastard Mitch’s fault!
Call me. I’ll be at the gym, trying to work out some of my frustration.
How could they do this to me? Jen, Kate, all of them—after everything I’ve done for them over the years? I’m the best boss any of them ever had! Oh, the ungrateful bitches.
To: Mitchell Hertzog <mitchell.hertzog@hwd.com
Fr: Stuart Hertzog <stuart.hertzog@hwd.com>
Re: You
Amy told me everything.
How you can even show your face in this office today, I can’t imagine. Oh, wait, yes I can, because those are the two things I like least about you: your face(s).
I suppose you thought you’d get away with it. How did you do it, anyway? Ask one of your former low-life clients to break into her office and print out that e-mail yourself? Don’t try to deny it, Amy says she saw your name on last night’s sign-on sheet.
Just what did you hope to prove, anyway? Amy doesn’t remember writing that e-mail. If she did, well then, she simply MADE A MISTAKE. Should she be TERMINATED for that?
I’m sure you think so, because you think Amy was lying.
But I know my love, and I know that she hasn’t a deceitful bone in her body.
There were all sorts of people at that sorry excuse for an office building who were out to get Amy, as well as her job. Any one of them could have forged that document, in order to make Amy look bad. Incompetent employees naturally despise those who call them on their inadequacies. And Amy has never been one to remain silent when she sees an error in need of adjustment. She is as fastidious about her work as she is about staying a perfect size six.
And I for one applaud her.
Oh, but then I happen to have something that you don’t: a heart.
I hope you realize that this is the end of our relationship. Was it worth it? Severing your relations with your own brother, all to get your girlfriend’s job back? So that some old lady can go back to refusing to serve pie to people she resents because they are more successful than she ever has a hope of being? Oh, yeah, you’ve really struck a blow for humanity with this one. Boy, I’ll bet they’ll give you the Nobel fucking prize. Mrs. Lopez got her job making pies back. Yippee! Kate whateverhernameis can go back to filing. Yay!
While one of the kindest, most brilliant, beautiful women in the world is at home right now, sobbing on her treadmill.
I hope that makes you happy.
Oh, but don’t get too excited. Amy won’t be unemployed for long. She’s already been contacted by three headhunters. She’ll be pulling in three times what she was getting at that rag in a matter of weeks.
And if you think this is going to stop me from marrying her, you can just think again. I still intend to marry her, but you—and anyone associated with theJournal —will NOT be welcome at the ceremony. And not just because of what you did last night, either. I’ve let Stacy know that she will not be invited to our nuptials, either. Not after the way the two of you have behaved concerning Janice. Apparently, “alternative lifestyles” are perfectly acceptable to the two of you (I shudder to think what kind of values Stacy is teaching those poor innocent children of hers). Well, same-sex partnerships aren’t acceptable to me, or to my future wife. Janice is a spoiled brat and always has been, and this “Sarah” business is just to get attention from Mom and Dad. The sooner you two realize this, the better.
It pains me to have to say this, but I feel like you’ve left me no other choice: Mitch, I never want to see or speak to you again. Even the thought of working in the same office as you makes me sick. Kindly stay the hell out of my life.
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: You
Right back atcha, buddy.
Mitch
JIFFY-FAX FAX WHILE U WAIT BERKELEY, CA
Dear Mom, Dad, Stuart, Stacy, and Mitch,
Sorry if any of you have been worried about me for the past twenty-four hours. I’m actually fine. I just finally came to a decision about my life, and, well, as soon as I came to it, I decided to put it into action. I didn’t want to wait. But I thought I’d write and let you know that I’m all right. I’m back at Berkeley, actually. I’m with Sarah.
Mom, I know you pulled me out of school because you don’t like Sarah—or don’t like that I love her, I guess, would be more accurate. But a friend of Mitch’s reminded me—Kate, Mitch. She’s really cool. You should try to hang onto her—that Gramps left me some money. I know you always said I wasn’t to touch it, Mom, and that I should save it for a rainy day. But, well, here’s the thing: It’s raining. I’m going to use the money Gramps left me to pay for finishing up school, and then Sarah and me, we’re thinking about starting a kayaking service up in Puget Sound. You know, where the orcas are? Sarah and I just love orcas.
Mom, I know this has probably got you pretty mad, but the fact is, Gramps left me that money for when I turned eighteen, to do with whatever I want. Frankly, I think paying for school where I want to go, and then starting my own business, is exactly what Gramps would have wanted—just like I doubt he minded that Mitch spent his on a trip around the world, or Stacy spent hers on those horses of hers, or that Stuart spent his on . . . Stuart, did you ever even spend yours?
Well, anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I’m all right, and no hard feelings, and stuff.
Stuart, I hope I’m still invited to your wedding and all, but if I can’t bring Sarah as my date, I’m not coming.
Dad, call me sometime. You know the number.
Mom. Whatever.
Mitch and Stacy, thanks for everything.
Love to you all,
Sean
To: Mitchell Hertzog <mitchell.hertzog@hwd.com>
Fr: Stacy Trent <IH8BARNEY@freemail.com>
Re: Sean
She fax you a copy of her letter yet? I’m so proud I could burst. I hope she and Sarah DO come to Stuart’s wedding, whether they’re invited or not. You know they’ll be the only couple there worth talking to.
S
To: Stacy Trent <IH8BARNEY@freemail.com>
Fr: Mitchell Hertzog <mitchell.hertzog@hwd.com>
Re: Sean
Fwd: l Re: You
I wouldn’t count on any of us getting invited. Get a load of the forwarded e-mail.
To: Mitchell Hertzog <mitchell.hertzog@hwd.com>
Fr: Stacy Trent <IH8BARNEY@freemail.com>
Re: Sean
No fair! I want Stuart to refuse to speak to me, too! You get all the luck.
FYI, thanks to Sean’s letter, Mom’s taken to her bed. She got somebody to refill her script for Valium.
My question is: Where the hell is Dad? I thought he was supposed to be home by now. Oh well.
Stace
To: Kate Mackenzie <katydid@freemail.com>
Fr: Vivica <vivica@sophisticates.com>
Re: Lunch
Oh my God, it was so nice to meet you! You really are just as cute as your picture. I’m so sorry Dale wouldn’t marry you like you wanted him to. You totally deserve to have a nice husband . . . especially after you traded plates with me (who knew bococino meant cheese?) It’s no joke, being lactose intolerant. I can’t even have sour cream on my potato skins anymore!
I’m sorry you won’t consider being a model. Really, it is just loads of fun. And I’m almost positive Ricardo could get you a gig or two. I mean, maybe notVogue, but like, catalog stuff, or something.
Anyway, it was really fun meeting you, and I hope we can get together again sometime soon. I don’t know when, though, ’cause like I said, the band leaves tomorrow for its tour and I’m off to Milan. . . . but I’ll call ya when I get back!!!!!
Love,
Viv
Best Way Messenger Service
Envelope for Kate Mackenzie
The New York Journal
216 W. 57th Street
A Note from
Dale Carter of
I’m Not Making Any More Sandwiches
Liberation Records
Dear Kate,
Look, Kate, I know I’m not your favorite person in the world right now, but I just want to say thanks for not telling Vivica about how I bit off that guy’s finger. I mean, biting off a guy’s finger, that’s like fighting dirty, and I don’t want Vivica to think I’m a dirty fighter. I mean, the guy DID keep shoving his hand in my mouth, so it wasn’t like I had a choice.
But Viv wouldn’t know that. So thanks. Really. For not telling her.
I’m really sorry things didn’t work out between us and all, but I think you’re right about it being better this way. I mean, Vivica is a totally dope girl, and I never would’ve met her if you hadn’t dumped me.
And don’t worry about your security deposit. I feel real bad about all that, and about you losing your job and all of that. So I’m messengering over a check for your share of the deposit and some other stuff. Like, you know, to pay you back for all the shit you bought for the place, like the TV and all. Hope it’ll be enough to help you find a new pad of your own.
Well, okay, I guess that’s it. Peace out.
Dale
P.S. What do you think of this new song?
When the stars come out at night
I call them Vivica
And when the moon, it shines so bright
I call it Vivica
And when the sun comes up, and warms us
with its healing rays
I call it Vivica,
Vivica,
My Vivica.
Content of Check
Dale Carter
0002
207 E. 3rd St. Apt. 10J
New York, NY 10003
March 23, 2004
Kathleen Mackenzie
$10,000
Ten thousand and 00 cents
DOLLARS
NY MetroBank
Park Avenue, New York
MEMO:For the Apt and shit
Dale Carter
:0003058439: 854765339 • 0002
To: Jen Sadler <jennifer.sadler@thenyjournal.com>
Fr: Kate Mackenzie <kathleen.mackenzie@thenyjournal.com>
Re: Dale
Oh my God. That freak Dale—you know what he did? Messengered me over a check for ten grand.
TEN GRAND.
What do I DO????
Kate
To: Kate Mackenzie <kathleen.mackenzie@thenyjournal.com>
Fr: Jen Sadler <jennifer.sadler@thenyjournal.com>
Re: Dale
What do you mean, what do you do? You cash it!
And don’t tell me you don’t think you should. You EARNED that money. You cooked and cleaned like a slave for him for all those years, and for what? A big fat, “I have to take it one day at a time”? You take that check and you run, don’t walk, to Chase and deposit it, before he sobers up.
To: Jen Sadler <jennifer.sadler@thenyjournal.com>
Fr: Kate Mackenzie <kathleen.mackenzie@thenyjournal.com>
Re: Dale
You’re right. I’ll deposit it after work. There’s something else I’ve got to do right now, though.
Kate
Hola! You have reached the line of Ida Lopez. Ida is not here to take your call. Leave a message and she will get back to you.
"Boy Meets Girl" отзывы
Отзывы читателей о книге "Boy Meets Girl". Читайте комментарии и мнения людей о произведении.
Понравилась книга? Поделитесь впечатлениями - оставьте Ваш отзыв и расскажите о книге "Boy Meets Girl" друзьям в соцсетях.