The Boy Next Door
Page 25
Subject: Men
Why are men so stupid? I mean, excluding you, of course?
I write to John Trent—I take time out of my busy schedule to write John Trent a moving and deeply felt e-mail asking if he can’t think of anything, ANYTHING, he could do that might make Mel forgive him, clearly hinting that if he proposed, she might very well say yes—and what does he do? What does he do?
He e-mails stupid Max Friedlander and tries to get him to let him move back into the apartment next door to Mel’s. How STUPID can he be? What do I have to do to get the message across to the guy? Take out a stupid sign???
What is WRONG with you people???
Nad
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Tony Salerno
Subject: Men
Nadine, when are you going to learn not to get involved in other people’s business? Leave John Trent alone. Let Mel work out her own problems. She doesn’t need your help.
Tony
To: Tony Salerno
From: Nadine Wilcock
Subject: Men
>Let Mel work out her own problems. She doesn’t need your help.
That is a typical male response. Plus I can’t even begin to tell you how wrong it is.
Nad
To: Dolly Vargas
From: Nadine Wilcock
Subject: All right everybody
Mel is returning and I think we should plan a little something to welcome her back, since she is feeling really down about this whole thing with John. So, let’s have a party with some cake and ice cream (I will supply that).
Tim, why don’t you put your decorative flair to good use and tape some streamers around her cubicle?
George, I think a small gift would be appropriate—and this time, how about something you didn’t purchase at the newsstand downstairs? I mean, Jujubees are nice and all, but not exactly special.
Dolly, since you’re so good with the phones, why don’t you spread the word about the time and place. That way we’ll be sure to get a good crowd.
And, above all, try to act positive. I’m telling you, she’s so low these days, I wouldn’t be surprised if she turned tail and slunk back to Illinois. And we can’t have that. DO NOT, whatever you do, mention the words John Trent. I’m telling you, she’s on the edge.
So be there or be square!
Nad ;-)
To: Mel Fuller
From: Nadine Wilcock
Subject: Welcome back!
We missed you so much! It was completely dead around here without you. No one to tell us what celebrity weddings were coming up or keep us posted on the latest Leo sightings. I nearly expired from boredom.
So, where are we going for lunch?
Nad ;-)
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: Thanks
for the welcome-back party. You guys really outdid yourselves this time. I was completely surprised. I bet there isn’t another employee at the Journal who got a party after returning from a mandatory suspension. Let alone with cake and ice cream.
I really love my plastic Statue of Liberty earrings with the torches that actually light up. They are obviously something every girl needs. You shouldn’t have.
Now I’d appreciate it if everyone would let me get back to work, as a lot has happened in Hollywood and beyond, so I have tons of work today.
Fondly,
Mel
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: I’m going to kill you
I mean, the party was sweet and all, but you know I’m in no mood for parties. I practically split my face in two, pretending to be happy about it.
And what’s the deal with you and the cake? You must have had four slices.
No offense, and I don’t mean to be your diet police, but I thought you’d finally gotten down to a size 12 and intended to stay that way until the wedding.
Mel
To: Mel Fuller
From: Nadine Wilcock
Subject: What’s the deal with you and the cake?
I can’t take it anymore, all right? This stupid dieting thing is for the birds! What is the point of being alive if I can’t eat what I want? I don’t care about fitting into my mother’s stupid wedding dress anymore. I’m buying my own wedding dress, one in which I can actually breathe. And I won’t have to starve myself for the next six weeks either.
And when it comes time for the cake during my reception, I’ll actually be able to eat a slice without having to worry about splitting my seams.
There. Are you happy? I’ve said it. I AM A BIG GIRL. That’s all there is to it. I will never be a size 6, or a size 8, or even a size 12. I am a size 16, and that’s all there is to it. I won’t give up spinning class, because I know that’s good for me, but I will be damned if I’m going to eat salad with dressing on the side every meal for the rest of my life just so that I can squeeze into a dress that some magazine says is the right size for my height. How do THEY know what the right size for my height is?
They don’t. They don’t know me. They don’t know that my fiancé happens to LIKE the way I look, that he says I’m the sexiest woman he knows, and that when I walk down the street, garbage-men and truck drivers whistle and ask for my number.
So I can’t be doing too badly, can I?
Now, where are we going for lunch?
Nad
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: Lunch
Um, sorry, Nadine, but I already have lunch plans. I’m going to Applebee’s with Vivica, the supermodel.
Please don’t hate me.
Mel
To: Mel Fuller
From: Nadine Wilcock
Subject: Lunch
Applebee’s? With a supermodel?
There are so many things wrong with that sentence I can’t even begin to describe them.
Hate you? Why should I hate you? Just because you’ve chosen to lunch at a place I wouldn’t be caught dead in with a size 2 supermodel?
Sure. Go ahead. See if I care.
Nad :-(
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: Lunch
Oh, get over yourself. You know I’ll always prefer size 16 food critics over size 2 supermodels.
Mel
To: Mel Fuller
From: Vivica@sophisticate.com
Subject: LUNCH
DEAR MEL,
YOU ARE THE FUNNEST PERSON. THAT WAS THE BEST LUNCH I’VE HAD IN A REALLY LONG TIME. I’M SO GLAD I MET YOU. I HOPE WE CAN BE BEST FRIENDS. I HAVEN’T HAD A BEST FRIEND SINCE I MOVED HERE FROM SANTA CRUZ.
ANYTIME YOU WANT TO GO OUT, JUST CALL ME. EXCEPT NOT NEXT WEEK, SINCE I WILL BE IN MILAN, WHICH IS IN ITALY.
OKAY, BYE!
LOVE,
VIVICA
To: Vivica@sophisticate.com
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: Lunch
Hi, Vivica! I had a great time at lunch too. Between the two of us, we really managed to pack it away, huh? I can’t think about jalapeño poppers without wanting to throw up.
I would love to get together with you again. Maybe we could invite my friend Nadine next time. I think you would really like her. She is a food critic here at the paper, and she knows of some restaurants that are even better than Applebee’s. What do you think about that?
Anyway, I’ve been thinking about something you mentioned at lunch. Remember when I told you where I live, and you said you’d been there before, the night before you and Max left for Key West? When exactly was that? And did you meet Max’s aunt then?
Just curious.
Mel
To: Mel Fuller
From: Vivica@sophisticate.com
Subject: MAX’S AUNT
DEAR MEL,
I WOULD LOVE TO MEET YOUR FRIEND NADINE!!! FOOD CRITIC? THAT SOUNDS LIKE A HARD JOB. LIKE, IF I WERE A FOOD CRITIC, I WOULDN’T KNOW WHICH I LIKED BETTER, FRIDAY’S POTATO SKINS WITH CHEDDAR AND BACON BITS OR APPLEBEE’S POTATO SKINS WITH CHEDDAR AND BACON BITS.
ANYWAY, THE TIME I WENT TO MAX’S AUNT’S APARTMENT WAS THE NIGHT BEFORE I LEFT FOR KEY WEST. MAX WAS SUPPOSED TO GO WITH ME, BUT AT THE LAST MINUTE HE GOT A SHOOT IN L.A., SO I ENDED UP GOING DOWN FIRST, AND THEN HE MET ME ABOUT A WEEK LATER.
WHAT HAPPENED WAS, THE NIGHT BEFORE WE LEFT, HE SAID HE HAD TO GO PICK SOMETHING UP FROM HIS AUNT’S APARTMENT, SO I WAITED DOWNSTAIRS IN THE CAB WHILE HE WENT AND GOT IT. I NEVER DID GET TO MEET HIS AUNT. MAX SAID SHE IS KIND OF A BITCH AND WOULDN’T LIKE ME ON ACCOUNT OF ME BEING TOO YOUNG FOR HIM, WHICH HAPPENS WITH A LOT OF MY BOYFRIENDS.
ANYWAY, AFTER A WHILE MAX CAME BACK DOWN AND WE WENT TO CHILI’S. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN THERE? THEY HAVE THE BEST ARTICHOKE DIP. WE SHOULD GO SOMETIME!
WELL, THAT’S ALL FOR NOW!
VIVICA
To: Mel Fuller
From: George Sanchez
Subject: I just walked by your desk
and noticed you were deeply immersed not in today’s column, as one might hope, but in your e-mail. I know this might come as a surprise to you, but we don’t actually pay you to correspond with your friends, Fuller. We pay you to work. WOULD YOU MIND DOING SOME?
Or would that be asking too much of you?
George
To: George Sanchez
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: Jeez, George
No need to SHOUT!
Look, something is bothering me. I can’t put my finger on what it is, exactly, but it might…I don’t know. Lead to something big, George.
But the only way I’m going to find out if it’s true is if I ask the right questions of the right people.
So please let me do my work and STOP LOOKING OVER MY SHOULDER AT WHAT I’M WRITING!
It might very well be about you.
Mel
To: Mel Fuller
From: George Sanchez
Subject: Guess what.
If it doesn’t go on Page Ten, I’m not interested.
George
To: Vivica@sophisticate.com
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: Max’s aunt
Vivica, it’s kind of important that you try to remember what night, exactly, you and Max were at my building. Maybe you still have your boarding pass from when you flew down to Florida, or somebody at your agency wrote it down somewhere?
Please let me know as soon as you can.
Mel
To: Mel Fuller
From: Genevieve Randolph Trent
Subject: My grandson
Dear Miss Fuller,
We have never been formally introduced, but we have met, most recently at a benefit at Lincoln Center. I believe you will remember me: I was the elderly woman sitting beside John Trent, whom you believed at the time was Max Friedlander. The two of you spoke for some time. I, of course, was not permitted to say very much, as my grandson did not wish you to discover the truth of his identity, for reasons that I believe are clear to you now.
I cannot apologize for my grandson’s behavior…that is something he must do for himself. I trust that he has done so. It is my understanding that you have chosen not to accept his apologies, and that, of course, is your prerogative.
But before you dismiss my grandson completely from your life, Miss Fuller, I would ask that you consider the following:
John loves you. I understand that after the way he’s treated you, you might find this hard to believe. But I ask that you believe it.
I would very much like an opportunity to convince you of the truth of this in person. Would it be possible, or am I asking too much, for us to meet? I would so love to have a chance to speak to you, woman to woman. Do let me know.
Genevieve Randolph Trent
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: John
Oh, my God, now he’s got his grandmother writing to me, begging me to forgive him. I’m not kidding. How pathetic. Like anything she says is going to make a difference. She’s related to him!
Besides, she was probably forced to write all that. They probably threatened her. They probably said write this letter or we’ll put you in a home, Grandma. I so wouldn’t put it past them. They could do it, too, and she would be helpless to stop them. Everyone knows those Trents have every single member of the judiciary system, all the way up and down the eastern seaboard, in their pockets.
I am so lucky I escaped all that. It could have ended up being just like that Sally Field movie where she has to escape with her daughter. Only instead of fleeing Iraq or wherever that movie was set, I’d be fleeing East Hampton.
Really. Think about it.
Mel
To: Mel Fuller
From: Nadine Wilcock
Subject: John
Okay, you have officially lost it now. Put her in a home? Where do you come up with this stuff?
They aren’t the Kennedys, for God’s sake. No one in that family has ever been accused of murder. Possession, maybe, but nothing violent. And the grandmother, at least, is a well-known patroness of the arts, and a huge supporter of many of the same charities you, young lady, have been known to write about admiringly.
So, where do you get this stuff? Your imagination is working overtime. You should maybe give up journalism and go into fiction writing, because that seems to be where your real talent lies.
Nad
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: John
Oh, yeah? Well, then you probably won’t believe me when I say I think I have an idea who might have conked Mrs. Friedlander on the head.
And it wasn’t a member of the Trent family.
Meet me over by the water cooler and I’ll tell you. George keeps walking by and reading over my shoulder to make sure I’m working.
And then I said, “Are you kidding? George Sanchez is the sexiest man alive. Any man with that much hair on his back has to be a veritable repository of testosterone….”
HA, GEORGE! CAUGHT YOU!!!
Mel
To: Stacy Trent
From: Genevieve Randolph Trent
Subject: Melissa Fuller
Well, I sent it. And she hasn’t written back.
Stubborn little thing.
I think it’s time we move on to Plan B.
Mim
To: John Trent
From: Nadine Wilcock
Subject: Mel
Dear John,
When I suggested that you do something to get Mel back, I didn’t exactly mean get your
grandmother to write to her. In fact, I don’t think that was such a hot idea at all. I think it had sort of the opposite effect of what you were looking for.
When I suggested that you do something to get Mel back, I was thinking of something more along the lines of, oh, I don’t know, stringing a massive sign out the windows of the building opposite ours with the words MARRY ME, MEL on it.
Or something along those lines.
However, you chose to take a more passive approach…and often, that can work just as well. I congratulate you for trying, I really do. A lesser man might have given up by now. Mel has a stubborn streak a mile wide, and takes the saying “once burned, twice shy” to new heights.
But I think you ought to know that now Mel is convinced that your family is filled with women who will do anything you tell them to, because they are afraid that, otherwise, you will put them in a home.
Just thought you might be interested.
Nad
To: Genevieve Randolph Trent
From: John Trent
Subject: What is wrong with
you? Did you write to Mel? What did you say to her?
Whatever it was, it didn’t work. She’s madder at me than ever, according to her friend.
Look, Mim, I do not need your help, all right? Kindly stay out of my love life—or lack thereof. And that goes for Stacy, too, in case the two of you are in cahoots, which I am beginning to suspect.
I mean it, Mim.
John
To: Stacy Trent
From: Genevieve Randolph Trent
Subject: John