Besides, maybe if I’m not there, Dale will stop, you know, terrorizing every delivery man who walks into your vestibule. And Dolly’s got a doorman, so even if Dale finds out where I’m staying, it’s not like he’s going to be able to get into the building.

Really, Jen, it’s just better for everybody, all around.

Well, except maybe for Dolly.

Is the T.O.D. still crying? Has anybody figured out what Mitch said to her?

Kate


To: Craig Sadler <csadler@terminator.com

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

Re: Tonight

Oh my God, you have got to do something!!!! Kate is threatening to move out! She’s throwing herself on the mercy of the paper’s Style Editor, Dolly Vargas. Dolly Vargas, who is sleeping with the founder and CEO of the paper I work for. While I’d like to think she’s moving in with Dolly in order to subtly hint to Hargrave that he should hire back Ida Lopez and can the T.O.D., I can’t help feeling she’s doing it because our couch sucks so much.

E-mail her and tell her she’s NOT getting in the way and that you want her to stay.

PLEASE?

J


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

Fr: Craig Sadler <csadler@terminator.com>

Re: Kate

Um, why would I want to do that? Convince Kate to stay, I mean? Don’t get me wrong, I like Kate—of all your freaky friends, she is the ONLY one I could stand sleeping on my couch for the past four weeks.

But, Jen. It’s been a month. I know Kate doesn’t have much money and the NYC real estate scene is crazy. I am not blaming Kate AT ALL for not having been able to find a decent place to live. But I would really, really, really, really like to have my couch back.

And our privacy.

Come on, Jen. We’re trying to make a baby here.

And frankly, this stuff with Dale? Getting REAL old, Jen. I mean, I had limited patience with him back in school, when he was always leaving those pizza boxes lying around and scratching his balls in front of everyone—like because the guy’s a musician, he has some right not to act like a civilized human being.

The constant phone calls, notes slid under our door, harassment of our neighbors until they buzz him in, and, though you and Kate were at the movies at the time, his singing “Ice Weasels Gnaw My Brain” from the street at the top of his lungs? Not cute, gifted musician or no.

Let her go. Maybe she’ll be able to convince this Hargrave guy to give YOU the T.O.D.’s job. Kate can be very persuasive, when she pulls that corn-fed Kentucky farmgirl thing.

Kate moving out is a GOOD thing, Jenny. Remember that. It’s a GOOD thing.

Craig

From the Desk of

Kate Mackenzie

Hi, Amy. Your phone seems to be on send all calls. Tried knocking, but you didn’t answer. Just wanted to let you know that I met with Dolly Vargas re: the Hector Montaya thing, and she’s agreed to go through the sexual harassment workshop one more time. Hopefully third time will be the charm, and it will stick!

Hope you have a good weekend, and see you on Monday. And I’m so sorry, again, for what happened in the lobby this afternoon. I promise it won’t happen again. At least, I don’t think it will. Well, I hope it won’t.

Kate

Kathleen A. Mackenzie

Personnel Representative, LZ

Human Resources

The New York Journal

216 W. 57th Street

New York, NY 10019

212-555-6891

kathleen.mackenzie@thenyjournal.com


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

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

Re: Kate

Well, darling, it’s all settled. She’s coming over tonight. I feel positivelygiddy with self-congratulation at how easily I managed it. The girl is simplydesperate for 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep.

I guess a month in someone’s living room can do that to a person.

So tell me the truth—you owe me that much, because you know it isn’t every day I open my doors to a human resources representative, even if sheis a perfect treasure, with her “you all’s” and “fixin’ some suppers”—are you in love with her? Because I understand you only just met her, so maybe things are moving a little fast, even for me.

On the other hand, I perfectly understand the attraction. There’s nothing a big hulking man like you finds harder to resist than little damsels in distress like our own Mayberry miss. Speaking of hulking . . . You’ve been working out, haven’t you, sweetie? Don’t try denying it. Are you still on that paraplegic basketball team, or whatever it is? The one where you pretend like you’re in a wheelchair and play ball with all of those boys who reallyare in wheelchairs? Well, let me just say, it’s working, you’ve got some real upper-body definition going on under that Tweety Bird tie or whatever it was you had on. I wish you’d ask Peter to join your little team, or whatever it is. He needs a hobby, poor thing.

And God knows, he could use the workout.

God! This is so FUN! Promise you won’t break her heart, though. Because that would be a real buzz kill. Kind of like when Peter brings his kiddies over.

Oh, God, I’ve got the Prada show. Ciao for now.

XXXOOO

Dolly


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

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

Re: Kate

There is no licentious motive behind my request that you offer Ms. Mackenzie a place to stay. She merely seems like a person who needs a helping hand . . . andwhose hands are more competent thanyours, Dolly?

Thanks again.

Mitch


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

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

Re: Amy

Just what are you trying to do, anyway? You had no right to go to Amy’s office today and attempt to intimidate her like that. She is a sweet young woman, not one of those hardened criminals you’re used to dealing with. She will schedule an appointment with you for pretrial discovery when I say she can . . . and that will be when she is good and ready to, and not before.

And what is this letter you keep going on about? Amy keeps impeccable records, so whatever this letter is you keep nagging her about, I’m certain it’s in that pie lady’s file.

God, you are SUCH an asshole. I really thought Stacy might have been able to get through to you, but I see now that you’re too far gone.

Which is a pity. You had real potential.

But now I know you’re just as depraved as those pimps and murderers you helped put back out on the street.

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: Amy

That’s funny. I thoughtyou were the depraved one. After all, aren’t you the one who made your fiancée fire a woman, merely because she wouldn’t give you a piece of pie?

Ms. Jenkins seems to be somewhat nervous concerning her case against Mrs. Lopez. I understand that while a verbal warning was issued, a written letter of warning, however, was not. I believe that, according to her collective bargaining agreement, the delivery—and acknowledgment—of such a letter is necessary before steps toward permanent dismissal can be taken.

But Mrs. Lopez says she never received such a letter. Strange, isn’t it, that she was fired anyway?

And not to spoil your illusions, sporto, but your “sweet young girl” can fight her own battles. She has a mouth on her like a longshoreman. She actually called me a fucker, if memory serves. . . . Oh, and wait, it does, since I taped our brief but oh-so-illuminating conversation in her office.

Hey, wouldn’t it be fun if I played this tape for Mom? Oh, yeah! I’m going to give Mom a call right now!

Love ya

Mitch

aka The Fucker

Hello, you’ve reached the Hertzog residence. Margaret and Arthur can’t come to the phone just now. Please leave a message, and one of us will be happy to get back to you.

(Tone)

Mom? Hi, it’s Stuart. Listen, I just want to say . . . Well, Mitch says he’s going to call you, and I just want to make sure you know, before he does, that the tape he says he’s going to play for you . . . Well, it’s fake. It’s a fake, and—

(Click)

“Hello?”

“Mom?”

“No. It’s Sean. Is that you, Stuart?”

“Yeah. Janice, let me talk to Mom.”

“Mom’s not here. And I’ve asked you before. Don’t call me Janice. It’s Sean.”

“Okay, Sean, whatever. Just tell Mom when she gets home—“

“Hey, is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“About that Amy girl.”

“You mean that I’m marrying her? Yeah, it’s true. And I hope, Janice, that you’ll join us on our special day—“

“No. I mean about her calling Mitch a fuckhead.”

“Janice. Is the answering machine still recording?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Hang up the phone, Janice.”

“The name is Sean, I

told

you.”

(Click)


To: Jen Sadler <sleaterkinneyfan@freemail.com>

Fr: Kate Mackenzie <katydid@freemail.com>

Re: Paradise

Hey. It’s me. I’m e-mailing you, and on a WEEKEND. That’s because I’m e-mailing you from Dolly’s laptop at her place, and she has DSL. Oh my God, you guys would DIE if you saw this place. Dolly lives in a penthouse, overlooking the East River. You can see BOATS going by. BOATS.

And that’s not all. She’s got THREE bathrooms—THREE—and three bedrooms, each the size of your living room, and a living room the size of your whole apartment, and a terrace—aterrace —the size of your building’s roof. This place is SO NICE.