MH: I could see how that would get to be annoying. I mean, if you’re constantly providing . . . pie. And getting no positive feedback—

KM: Right! And what about your future? I mean, how do you know people are still going to want your pie in the future? Supposing they become a famous rock star or something. People are going to be offering them pie all over the place. If they haven’t promised only to eat your pie, well, where does that leave you?

MH: With perfectly justifiable insecurities over your own self-worth.

KM: Absolutely! See what I mean? I mean, it’s no wonder she cracked. Mrs. Lopez, I mean.

MH: Right. Mrs. Lopez.

KM: So you see what I mean, then? It’s wrong to fire somebody because they had one bad day. And without even any warning. I mean, yes, she was on probation, but I think she still should have gotten a written warning first. Just to let her know. And then if she messed up again, we could have fired her. But to just fire her like that, for not giving someone pie . . .

MH: Oh. Yes. Now I see what you mean. So there was no written warning?

KM: No. Just the verbal. Not that I think theJournal was wrong to fire Mrs. Lopez. I mean, I would never say that. I love working at theJournal . I would never say anything to make theJournal look bad.

MH: Don’t look so panicked, Kate. Nothing you say here is going to get back to your employer.

KM: Yeah, but, I mean, the T.O.D.—I mean, Amy. She’s your brother’s fiancée.

MH: She’s not here.

KM: But . . . Never mind.

MH: What you’re saying is that in your opinion, the firing of Ida Lopez wasn’t justified.

KM: That’s not what I said. That’s not what I said at all. Is that what I said?

MH: You said—excuse me, Miriam—It’s wrong to fire somebody because they had one bad day.

KM: Well, it is. And okay, Mrs. Lopez had a bunch of bad days. But only because bad people—

MH: Like my brother.

KM: Oh my gosh. Is that the time? Really? Because I have to go.

MH: Go?

KM: Yes. I have to meet my broker.

MH: Your broker?

KM: My real-estate broker. See, I’m looking for an apartment, and it’s kind of, you know, urgent that I find a place soon, because right now I’m, like, staying on my friend Jen’s—I told you about Jen—well, I’m staying on her couch, but she and her husband, they’re trying to have a baby, so I need to get out of there, and I was supposed to see this place last night but the broker never showed. But then she called and said if I could meet her at eleven this morning she’d let me in to see the place and so I really have to go, or if I can’t go now I need to call her and see if I can meet her after work.

MH: Uh. Yeah. I guess . . . I guess we’re through here. Maybe you could leave your contact information with Anne, so if I have any follow-up questions—

KM: Oh, sure. Thanks. It was nice to meet you. I hope I didn’t say anything—I mean, I didn’t mean to say anything bad about theJournal . Or your brother. I’m sure he’s, you know. A very nice person.

MH: (Indecipherable) Don’t worry about it. I’ll show you the way out.

Hi, you’ve reached the voice mail of Jen Sadler. At the tone, please leave your name and number, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Bye!

(Tone)

Jen! It’s Kate! Oh my God, you are never going to believe—no, I’m sorry. I don’t have any spare change. Anyway, I went to that meeting this morning, you know, at Hertzog Webber and Doyle, and I—No, I really don’t have any spare change, I’m so sorry. What was I saying? Oh, yeah. I met his brother—you know the T.O.D’s fiancée—his brother—and oh my God, he’s so cute . . . I can’t believe I’m saying something like this about a lawyer . . . let alone a relative of Stuart Hertzog’s—Look, here, this is all I’ve got. Take it. Go ahead. Take it. Oh, my God, I’m not sure this is the best neighborhood, and I don’t know where the realtor is, and—No, I’m sorry, I gave all my money to that guy over there. Sorry. I—Oh, here’s Paula, thank GOD. I’ll call you later. Tell the T.O.D. I’ll be back by noon. If I’m not knifed by a crackhead first.

(Click)

Journal of Kate Mackenzie

Oh my God, that apartment was so hideous, I would rather sleep on Jen’s couch for the rest of my life than set foot in a place like that ever, ever again. What is WRONG with this city? It’s like they penalize you if you’re single and can’t afford to pay two grand a month for decent housing. Like it’s not enough of a stigma, not being in a romantic relationship. No, they have to make it a thousand times worse by making every studio apartment in the city be next door to an OTB and look out over an air shaft.

And oh my God, what did I say to Mitchell Hertzog? It’s like I had diarrhea of the mouth, or something, I just kept talking and talking. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? I mean, like I don’t have enough to worry about without jeopardizing my job, going around, saying the paper fires people unfairly.

It’s just that he was so . . . cute! Why did he have to be so cute??? And nice . . . He wears ties his nieces buy for him!

Oh, why couldn’t he have been an ogre, like his brother?

Wait a minute . . . he is. He IS an ogre, like his brother. Because what kind of person works for a place like that, a place that takes the side of corporate giants over poor little pie bakers like Mrs. Lopez? What kind of person would work for a place like that?

I know he’s going to tell the T.O.D. what I said. Okay, well, maybe he won’t—And I don’t remember exactly what I said, anyway. Maybe I didn’t say anything so bad. . . .

But somehow or other she’s going to find out, and I’m going to get fired, and it will be all my own fault, and oh my God, I HATE lawyers, they ruin EVERYTHING for EVERYONE and oh, why did he have to be so cute?


To: Dolly Vargas <dolly.vargas@thenyjournal.com>

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

Re: Kate Mackenzie

I Googled her, but got nada. What do you know about her? Spill it. You owe me, remember?

Mitch


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

Fr: Dolly Vargas <dolly.vargas@thenyjournal.com>

Re: Kate Mackenzie

Mitch, darling, what a surprise! How ARE you? It’s been ages! I don’t think I ever did thank you properly for getting Julio out of that little jam with Immigration . . . goodness, it pays to be friends with a lawyer, doesn’t it?

Let me see now, about Kate . . . Isn’t that a coincidence? I happen to be VERY well acquainted with her. She’s my HR rep here at the paper.

Look, why don’t I call you in, say, five? I just got my tips done, and all this typing is not exactly good for them.

Ciao for now. . . .

XXXOOO

Dolly

P.S. She really is a doll, isn’t she?

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Thank God you’re back. It seemed like you were gone FOREVER. Now tell me about Stuart’s cute brother. How cute is he? He doesn’t have an abnormally large head, does he? It isn’t a family trait?

Katydid:

Are you CRAZY? Stop I.M.-ing. She’s going to catch us. She’s been all over me ever since I got in.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Whatever. I’ll watch her, and if I see her log on, I’ll signal you. So. His head. Cartoonishly gargantuan, or what? How’s his butt?

Katydid:

Totally normal-size head. I told you, he’s cute. I mean, for a lawyer.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Koala-bear cute? Or tie-him-to-the-bed cute?

Katydid:

You are sick. But I might tie him to the bed. If I had one. A bed, I mean.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Butt, please.

Katydid:

I didn’t look at his butt. Are you crazy? He’s a LAWYER. I mean, what does it matter what kind of butt he has when he has a job taking advantage of the disenfranchised?

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Since when is Ida Lopez disenfranchised? She’s in a union, she makes more than I do, probably. Now I would like a description of his ass.

Katydid:

What does it matter? It’s not like he could ever be interested in me. I’m such a spaz. I mean, I started going off during my interview on this tangent about Dale. I didn’t say his name, or anything—Dale’s, I mean—but I don’t know. Giving a deposition is WEIRD. It’s so . . . personal. Everyone is looking at you. I mean, he was sitting right there, right across the table. I could have reached out and touched his hand. We DID touch hands at one point, when I spilled my coffee, and we both reached to wipe it off. He has really nice hands. And no wedding ring, either.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

WHO CARES ABOUT HIS HANDS? WHAT ABOUT HIS BUTT?

Katydid:

Okay, okay. Basic stats: height, about six one. Weight, you know, normal for being six one. He looked kind of . . . built, beneath the suit. It was kind of hard to tell. Plus everyone looks built compared to Dale. Nice suit, conservative, but coupled with a tie that had Rocky and Bullwinkle on it. . . .

Sleaterkinneyfan:

You lie.

Katydid:

I beg your pardon, but I do not. Rocky and Bullwinkle, as sure as I’m sitting here Instant Messaging you instead of working on the sexual harassment suit against Dolly Vargas. He says his nieces gave it to him. He’s also got dark hair, kind of on the long side, you know, compared to Stuart’s. I know because I ran into Stuart on my way out. Mitch is taller than Stuart. Also, his hair isn’t thinning like Stuart’s. Or graying. Also, he has this dimple in the middle of his chin. And green eyes. Really. Or maybe hazel. But they looked green. Did I say he had really nice hands?

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Butt, please.

Katydid:

I didn’t look at his butt!!!!!!

Sleaterkinneyfan:

You lie.

Katydid:

Okay. I looked. It was roundly supple.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Mmmmmmmmmm

Katydid:

Hey! You’re married! You can’t be mmmming other guys’ butts!

Sleaterkinneyfan:

That’s what

you

think. So. When are you going to see him again?

Katydid:

I’M NOT! HE’S A MEAN CORPORATE LAWYER. I DON’T DATE MEAN CORPORATE LAWYERS. Or anyone, for that matter. My life is in enough upheaval.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

I thought you said he has nice hands.

Katydid:

He does. But what does it matter? You remember how those guys in law school were back when we were in college. The keggers. The loafers with tassels. Please! And this one’s the enemy, remember? He’s out to get poor Mrs. Lopez! I could never date someone who made a living defending the likes of Peter Hargrave against the working-class slobs who are just trying to be treated fairly. No matter how tie-to-the-bed-able he might be.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Liar.

Katydid:

I’m not lying!

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Ladies’ room. Now.

Katydid:

No!

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Now. Someone’s got to slap some sense into you, and as usual, it looks like that someone’s gonna be me.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

logged off

Katydid:

logged off



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

Fr: Courtney Allington <courtney.allington@allingtoninvestments.com>

Re: Last night

Ames, he’s a dream. You are SO lucky. And that ring . . . it’s gorgeous. We have GOT to get together for brunch and introduce our guys. Brad will just ADORE him. And then maybe you two can come to Aspen with us next December!

Where are you honeymooning? You HAVE to go to St. Bart’s. Brad’s family has a villa out there. They rent it out when they’re not using it—twenty thousand a week—but it comes with a full-time maid, cook, gardener, and chauffeur. It was divine, you simply have to go, it’ll be the perfect place to crack out that Burberry bikini you bought at last week’s BARNEY’s sale. I’ll ask Brad when the place is available.

Oh, your hair looks great. Are you still going to Bumble, or have you switched to Fekkai?

Love,

Courts


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