But what Stuart needs right now isn’t friends. It’s family. Won’t you, for once in your life, think about someone other than yourself, and help your brother?

I’d ask your sister Stacy, but she said something very rude to me about Stuart over the phone just now. It’s clear she’s in one of her moods.

If you won’t do it for Stuart, Mitch, will you do it for me?

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!!!!!