The Boy Next Door (18 page)

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Authors: Meg Cabot

BOOK: The Boy Next Door
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To: Mel Fuller

From: [email protected]

Subject: Dinner

No, it wasn’t just you. The other night was totally weird. Well, except for you, I mean. You’re never weird. I just meant the circumstances.

I’ve known Genevieve Trent for a long time. My whole life, actually. But I don’t believe there’s any possibility of anything romantic developing between the two of us, in spite of the fact that it might offer a solution to my credit card problems.

She really enjoyed meeting you, by the way. And the piece you wrote about the benefit was very touching. I imagine every charity in town must be calling, inviting you to come write about them next, you do it so eloquently.

As for dinner, I would be delighted. Only I wish you’d let me take you out. I still owe you, remember, for saving Aunt Helen?

So how about tomorrow night? If you’re feeling up to it, I mean. I’ll make reservations—it’ll be a surprise.

But I guarantee we’re not going to Fresche.

John

To: [email protected]

From: Mel Fuller

Subject: Dinner

All right, if you insist. But you really don’t have to.

You know, if you would just let me cook, then you could save your money and actually pay off your credit cards. It’s a novel thought, I know, but it
is
what normal people do.

But I guess it’s pretty clear neither of us is all that normal. I mean, normal people aren’t really obsessed with hurricanes and sinkholes, are they?

So I guess the whole normal thing is ruled out, as far as we’re concerned.

Oh, well.

Just promise me you won’t spend a lot. I’m not really a champagne kind of girl. Beer suits me just fine.

Mel

To: David J. Belew

From: John Trent

Subject: Dinner

Dear David,

Remember how after I got Patty to do that Dining Section exposé on hard-to-get-in restaurants, and how yours was the only one that she declared worth the three-month wait? And you said I had a table anytime I wanted?

Well, I want one. For two. And you’ve got to hold it under the name of Max Friedlander, and when I show up, that’s how your staff should greet me. Okay?

Also, make sure you’ve got ice cream with chunks in it for dessert. Chocolate chunks are best.

That’s all I can think of right now. I’ll call later to confirm.

John

To: John Trent

From: David J. Belew

Subject: Dinner

John, I hate to disappoint you, but at Belew’s, rated four stars by the illustrious newspaper for which you toil daily, three stars by the Michelin guide, top restaurant in New York City by Zagat’s, and recipient of not one but two Beard awards, thanks to the culinary talents of yours truly, we do not serve “ice cream with chunks in it.”

No, not even chocolate chunks.

I will, of course, see that a table is held for you, and even instruct my staff to call you Max Friedlander. But I’m afraid I must draw the line at chunks.

Dave

To: Mel Fuller

From: Nadine Wilcock

Subject: You must be feeling better

Or is there some other reason why you are humming “I Feel Pretty” under your breath?

Which, by the way, is only slightly annoying to those of us who have to work near you.

Nad

To: Nadine Wilcock

From: Mel Fuller

Subject: My humming

How about this? I feel better AND I’m happy.

I know. It seems hard to believe. But it’s true.

Want to know why I’m happy? Because I’m going out tonight. On a date. An actual date. With a man.

What man, you ask? Why, Max Friedlander, if you must know. Where are we going? It’s a surprise.

But guess what? He’s paying.

And even though it’s to say thank you for saving his aunt’s life—though I must say I’m not sure she’d really appreciate my efforts, considering what her quality of life is at the moment—it’s still a date.

And Mrs. Friedlander might get better.

So, yes, I guess you could say that overall I’m very happy.

But if my humming bothers you, I’ll stop, by all means.

Mel

To: Mel Fuller

From: Dolly Vargas

Subject: Did someone say date?

Darling, is it true? You and Max, I mean?

You’re so calm about it, sweetie, that’s why I ask. I mean, considering it’s the first time a man has asked you out since…well, you know. Why, speak of the devil…there he is, sulking over by the copier as we speak. Poor, poor Aaron.

I would think you’d at least head over to Bumble and Bumble for a blowout and a manicure. Pedicure, too, if you’re planning on going open-toe.

And you know, I know the best little place for bikini waxing—that is, if you think tonight is THE night. We always want to look our best in our Christian Diors, now, don’t we? You know, I hear the Sphinx is becoming quite popular. Since I know you don’t know what that is, I’ll explain. It’s when they wax not just your bikini line, but the whole…

Oh, pooh. Peter’s on the phone. More later, I promise.

XXXOOO

Dolly

To: Mel Fuller

From: Nadine Wilcock

Subject: Your date

Okay, I know it’s been a long time (that little movie-and-a-slice thing you guys did doesn’t count—nor that night at Fresche when we all inspected him, nor that other night you ended up spending
at the animal hospital) so I’m going to make sure you haven’t forgotten anything in your date survival kit.

Now, check each off these items before you leave the apartment so you’ll be sure not to forget them:

 

1. Lipstick

2. Compact

3. Metrocard (in case you need to make a quick getaway)

4. Money for cab fare (in case you need to make a quick getaway and there are no subway stops nearby)

5. Cover-up in case he dumps you and you start crying and your mascara runs

6. Passport (in case he chloroforms you, puts you on a plane to Dubai, and sells you into white slavery, and you need to prove to the authorities after you escape that you are an American citizen)

7. Altoids

8. Hairbrush

9. Clean undies (just in case you end up spending the night)

10. Condoms (ditto)

 

Hope this helps.

Nad ;-)

To: Nadine Wilcock

From: Mel Fuller

Subject: The list

Thanks for that list of things I will supposedly need on my date, but you are forgetting one thing:

WE LIVE NEXT DOOR TO EACH OTHER.

So if I need clean underwear, I’ll just have to go across the hall.

Now stop talking about it. Between you and Dolly I don’t know who’s making me more nervous.

It’s just dinner, for God’s sake.

Oh, God, I have to go, or I’m going to be late.

Mel

To: Mel Fuller

From: Dolly Vargas

Subject: Just one more thing…

Do be sure you use a condom, darling, because Maxie has been around, if you know what I mean.

Well, think about it. All those models. There’s no telling where they’ve been, bony little delights that they are.

Ta for now.

XXXOOO

Dolly

To: [email protected]

From: Jason Trent

Subject: So…

How’d it go?

Jason

P.S.: Stacy made me ask.

To: Nadine Wilcock

From: Tony Salerno

Subject: I assume

that the reason your phone has been busy for the past three hours is because you’re yakking away to Mel about her date. Well, could you spare your fiancé one minute of your time to answer this serious question:

Who are you planning on seating next to my great-aunt Ida at the reception? Because my mom says whoever is sitting by her has to make sure she doesn’t get any champagne. You remember the trailer park fire Ida caused at the last family function, right?

Let me know.

Love ya,

Tony

P.S.: My mom says if you seat her by Ida, she’ll commit hara-kiri on the spot.

To: Tony Salerno

From: Nadine Wilcock

Subject: I am not

on-line yakking with Mel. I haven’t heard from Mel since the last time I saw her, which was when she left work to go home and change for her big dinner with Max. I mean, John. What is with that name thing, anyway? Where does somebody get the nickname JOHN? John is not a nickname.

Anyway, I was on-line looking up gifts for our wedding party. What do you think of cuff links for the guys, and earrings for the girls?

Now that I think of it, it is kind of funny I haven’t heard from Mel. It’s been twenty-four hours. She never goes twenty-four hours without returning my calls.

Well, except for when her neighbor got conked on the head.

Oh, my God, you don’t think anything’s happened to her, do you? I mean, do you think Max/John might have kidnapped her? And sold her into white slavery? Should I call the police, do you think?

Nad

To: Nadine Wilcock

From: Tony Salerno

Subject: I think you should have your head examined

Also, any guy who would buy Mel Fuller from a white slaver should ask for his money back. She would make the worst slave. She’d always be whining about how come the guy doesn’t have cable, and how is she supposed to keep up with everything that’s going on in Winona Ryder’s life without
E! Entertainment News
.

Tony

P.S: You never answered the question about who you’re seating beside Aunt Ida.

P.P.S.: My friends would laugh their asses off if I gave them cuff links. How about Wusthof paring knives?

To: Mel Fuller

From: Nadine Wilcock

Subject: Where are you?

Seriously, I am not trying to be nosy, and I know you can take care of yourself, but I’ve left three messages and you still haven’t called back. WHERE ARE YOU??? If I don’t hear from you soon I’m calling the police, I swear.

Nad

To: Mel Fuller

From: Human Resources

Subject: Tardiness

Dear
Melissa Fuller,

This is an automated message from the Human Resources Division of the
New York Journal
, New York City’s leading photo-newspaper. Please be aware that according to your supervisor,
managing editor George Sanchez
, your workday here at the
Journal
begins promptly at
9 AM
, making you
83
minutes tardy today. This is your 49th tardy exceeding twenty minutes so far this year,
Melissa Fuller
.

Tardiness is a serious and expensive issue facing employers all over America. Employees often make light of tardiness, but routine lateness can often be a symptom of a more serious issue, such as
and any number of other conditions. If you are suffering from any of the above, please do not hesitate to contact your Human Resources Representative,
Amy Jenkins
. Your Human Resources Representative will be only too happy to enroll you in the
New York Journal
’s Staff Assistance Program, where you will be paired with a mental health professional who will work to help you achieve your full potential.

  • alcoholism
  • drug addiction
  • gambling addiction
  • abusive domestic partner
  • sleep disorders
  • clinical depression

Melissa Fuller
, we here at the New York Journal are a team. We win as a team, and we lose as one, as well.
Melissa Fuller
, don’t you want to be on a winning team? So please do your part to see that you arrive at work on time from now on!

Sincerely,

Human Resources Division

New York Journal

Please note that any future tardies may result in suspension or dismissal.

 

This e-mail is confidential and should not be used by anyone who is not the original intended recipient. If you have received this e-mail in error please inform the sender and delete it from your mailbox or any other storage mechanism.

To: Nadine Wilcock

From: Tim Grabowski

Subject: Our Miss Mel

Well, it looks as if our little Miss Mel had a very, VERY good time on her date, doesn’t it? I mean, I know when I don’t come into work the next day, it’s generally because the date hasn’t ended yet. Wink, wink.

Well, I’m all for it. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer person. Lordie, though, how I wish it were me! I mean, did you get a look at the arms on that guy? And those thighs? And that full head of hair?

Excuse me. I have to go to the little boys’ room now and douse myself with cold water.

Tim

To: Nadine Wilcock

From: George Sanchez

Subject: Fuller

Where the hell is Fuller? I thought we’d gotten past all this when that damned Friedlander guy moved in next door to her. Wasn’t he going to start walking that dog?

So where is she?

I swear to God, Wilcock, you can tell her from me that if that story on the new Paloma Picasso watch with the interchangeable bands isn’t on my desk by five she’s out of a job.

I don’t know what you people think I’m running here, but it happens to be called a NEWSPAPER, in case you’ve forgotten.

George

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