AJ: You can’t ask her to remember every piece of paper that crosses her desk. She’s just a paper pusher, after all—

JV: Again, Mitch, I’d like to ask that you control your client.

MH: Amy. Cool it.

SH: Coolthis, Mitch.

MH: Miriam, could you please let it be noted in the transcript that counsel for the defense just gave his fellow counsel for the defense what is known in the vernacular as “the finger”?

ML: Yes, sir.

SH: Miriam, strike that.

MH: Too late. Isn’t it, Miriam?

ML: Yes, sir.

JV: Ms. Mackenzie.

KM: Yes?

JV: The paper you’re holding. Do you remember writing it?

KM: Um. Well, I remember starting it . . . or one like it.

AJ: See? See, I told you she couldn’t remember. Can I go now?

JV: Please, Ms. Jenkins. Ms. Mackenzie?

KM: But I didn’t write this.

AJ: She’s lying!

SH: Really, Jeri, can’t you see what she’s doing? This young woman has a grudge against her employer because Ms. Jenkins had to reprimand her yesterday for wearing a skirt of an inappropriate length to the office, and she’s just trying to—

JV: Is that true, Ms. Mackenzie?

KM: Well. Yes, about the skirt. I mean, Amy issued me a warning letter about it.

MH: That skirt you had on yesterday? That black suede one you wore to the restaurant?

KM: Um. Yes.

MH: I liked that skirt. What was wrong with that skirt?

SH: Would you PLEASE stick to the topic at hand, Mitchell? We’re talking about forgery here. Because if that girl is saying she didn’t send the letter she’s holding, that is a very serious accusation—

MH: Did you sign this letter, Kate?

KM: That looks like my signature. But I didn’t write—or sign—this letter.

AJ: That’s impossible!

MH: And you didn’t hand that letter to Mrs. Lopez to initial?

KM: At no time did I hand any document of any kind to Mrs. Lopez to sign.

JV: Thank you very much, Ms. Mackenzie. Mr. Hertzog, Ms. Jenkins, looks like I’ll be seeing you both in court. Ida, let’s go.

SH: Hold on just a minute, here! Jeri, put your damned briefcase down. We aren’t done yet.

MH: Really? I think we are.

SH: Excuse me, Ms. Mackenzie. Do you realize the seriousness of what you’re saying?

MH: Do you think we’re done, Jeri?

JV: Very much so, Mitch.

SH: You’re implying, Ms. Mackenzie, that somebody has committed forgery.

KM: Well. I don’t know about that. All I know is, I didn’t write that letter. And I didn’t give it to Mrs. Lopez to sign.

MH: Thank you very much, Ms. Mackenzie. You may go now.

SH: No, she may not fucking go, Mitch.

JV: Well, my client and I are fucking going.

SH: Nobody is going anywhere. Ms. Mackenzie, how long have you worked at theNew York Journal?

JV: Stuart, Ms. Mackenzie has already been deposed. I’m not interested in—

SH: Yes, but you asked that she be brought here today, to help clear some things up—your words, no?

JV: Yes, but—

SH: Well, that’s all I’m trying to do. Help clear things up. Now. Ms. Mackenzie, you’ve been with the paper for a little less than a year, correct?

MH: Stuart, this is my case, I believe, not yours.

KM: Um. Yes?

SH: Right. And I believe you were hired on the strong recommendation of your friend, Ms. Jennifer Sadler. Is that correct?

KM: Jen told me about the opening in her office, yes, and I applied. . . .

MH: I believe your exact words, Stuart, were that you were too personally involved in the case to want to get involved. . . .

SH: And so you were hired, is that correct, Ms. Mackenzie? And you and Jen, as you call her . . . Would you say she is your best friend?

MH: Stuart, where the hell are you going with this?

SH: Excuse me. I ask only to be extended the same courtesy I extended to you, Mitchell. Were you not, Ms. Mackenzie, living with Ms. Sadler until recently?

KM: Well, I . . . I mean, I’ve been having some trouble finding a place, and so I was staying at Jen’s until I could find somewhere I could afford on my own. . . .

SH: And do you and Ms. Sadler—whom I believe you met in college—sometimes gossip in the workplace?

MH: Stuart. Really. What does this—

SH: Oh, that will become apparent. Don’t you two like to pass notes, and Instant Message each other, and e-mail back and forth between your computers on an almost constant basis, Ms. Mackenzie?

KM: Well, Jen and I . . . I mean, we maintain a close working relationship, and she helps me with many work-related projects—

SH: Work-related. Is your commenting on the apparel of your supervisor, Ms. Jenkins, work related?

KM: Well, apparently her commenting on mine is—so, yes.

MH: Touché.

SH: What about referring to Ms. Jenkins as . . . What is it again? Oh, yes. The T.O.D. Is that work related?

KM: How did you—

MH: Stuart. Cut it out.

JV: I agree with Mitch. What does any of this have to do with the fact that your client—or at least someone in her office—forged my client’s initials on a document she never even saw?

SH: I’m getting to that. What does T.O.D. mean, Ms. Mackenzie?

KM: Um. It means . . . It means Tough On Doubters. Because Amy’s always very tough on people who doubt . . . her ability.

SH: Tough on Doubters.

KM: Uh-huh.

SH: You realize you’re supposed to be telling the truth here, don’t you, Ms. Mackenzie?

KM: (inaudible)

SH: What was that, Ms. Mackenzie?

KM: Nothing.

SH: Isn’t it true that you and Ms. Sadler dislike Ms. Jenkins, and spend most of your time at the office every day making fun of her?

KM: No. That’s not true at all.

SH: Isn’t it also true that you are friendly with a number ofNew York Journal employees who’d like nothing better than to see Mrs. Lopez reinstated?

KM: Well, yes. I mean, everybody loves Mrs. Lopez, and we all miss her very much—

SH: That is an inaccurate statement right there. Not everyone at theNew York Journal loves Mrs. Lopez. Not everyone believes she is entitled to get her job back. Not everyone agrees she even MAKES the best key lime pie in the city—

MH: Stuart. Come on. This is getting personal now, and I don’t think—

SH: YOUR friends are the only ones who feel that way, isn’t that so, Ms. Mackenzie? Including the woman you are now living with, Ms. Dolly Vargas. Who happens to be involved—and I mean in the romantic sense—with the owner of theNew York Journal, Peter Hargrave, who ALSO expressed regret at the loss of Mrs. Lopez’s baked goods. Isn’t that so, Ms. Mackenzie?

KM: Isn’t what so? That I’m living with Dolly, or that Peter likes Mrs. Lopez’s cinnamon buns?

SH: Isn’t it true, Ms. Mackenzie, that you and the entire staff of theNew York Journal are so addicted to this woman’s baking that you are lying about not having written that letter of warning in order to afford her a loophole with which she might win back her post?

KM: No!

MH: Stuart. Come on.

SH: Isn’t it true that your dislike of Amy Jenkins is so strong that you would do anything to get her into trouble with her superiors—such as deny having written a document that has what even you stated appears to be your signature on it?

KM: No! I mean, yes, it looks like my signature, but it’s not. I never even got a chance to finish writing it. Amy e-mailed me and said—

SH: That’s all. No more questions.

KM: But it’s not true. About the letter. I mean—

SH: I said no more questions, Ms. Mackenzie.

MH: I have a question for you, Stuart. How do you sleep at night?

SH: Better than you will, when Dad hears about this. Come on, Amy. We’re done here.

Journal of Kate Mackenzie

I’m in trouble. BIG trouble.

Oh my God. Oh my God, I don’t understand any of this. Mitch says it’s nothing, but I think he’s just saying that to make me feel better. It’s not nothing. It’s clearly not nothing. I mean, my boss just accused me of being a liar. How can that be nothing?

And I can see how from her point of view it would be more beneficial forme to be perceived as a liar than, you know, her. Which is basically what she is. I mean, ONE of us is lying, and if it’s not me, it has to be her. Because I certainly never wrote that letter, and I certainly never had Mrs. Lopez sign it.

So who did?

At least I have Mrs. Lopez to back me up. She says she didn’t sign it either.

Except . . .

I’m sorry, Mrs. Lopez is very sweet, but she’s not the most reliable witness. I mean, she definitely has an agenda, which is getting her job back. Mine is apparently that I want to get back at AMY, but for what? I mean, it’s true I think she’s a big, shallow loser and it’s true we call her the T.O.D., but how did she find out? Jen’s going to freak when she hears Amy knows, and the last thing I want is to freak out Jen, she’s got enough problems as it is with the fertility thing and—

OH!!! I’ve got to get control of myself. Think about something other than Stuart Hertzog. Think about kittens and rainbows. Oh yuck, that won’t work. Think about the Travel Channel. Yes, the Travel Channel, teal blue seas and yawning blue sky overhead, little huts on stilts above the water, like in Bali . . .

Oh my God, I can’t believe my boss basically accused me of being a liar in front of Mitch Hertzog, the one person in the world I wanted to impress with my cool professionalism. So far I’ve blathered about chicken and garlic sauce to him, had my ex-boyfriend THROW chicken in garlic sauce on him, nearly gotten sick in front of him, had my ex sing ballads in front of him, and now my boss is calling me a liar in front of him. . . .