Boy Meets Girl

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

Fr: Kate Mackenzie

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.

I mean, not that your place isn’t nice. Because it totally is. Your place is nice and comfy and lived in. I mean, seriously, that beanbag chair is way comfier than any of the chairs Dolly has.

But the cool thing about Dolly’s place is that, you know. I’m not in anybody’s way. Not even Dolly’s. Because she’s never even here.

Well, I mean, she’s here now. I can hear her shower running. But I don’t know what time she came rolling in. She went to some big party last night. She wanted me to come, too, but I have to admit, I was kind of more interested in her TV. Jen, she’s got a 50-inch plasma screen with HD and three hundred channels! And that’s just in the living room! In my room, there’s a 36-incher, and even though it isn’t HD, it’s still flat-screen. I found channels on it I’d never even HEARD of.

I know what you’re probably saying. That I should have gone to the party with Dolly. I mean, she even offered to let me borrow her clothes. She had a leather halter top all laid out for me. Just like the kind Alyssa Milano wears.

But I don’t know. I just didn’t feel like going to a party with a bunch of people I don’t know. I know style editors do it all the time, but human resources representatives? Not so much. So I ordered in chicken in garlic sauce and watched the Travel Channel. Yeah! A whole channel, devoted to travel! Did you know that in Thailand, you can hail a public bus like you do a cab here in New York? Well, you can. You just stick out your hand and they stop for you. Could you imagine if we tried that here, with the M1? They would just mow us down.

Ooops, Dolly’s coming out of her room. I mixed up a big batch of pancake batter, so I can fix her breakfast. I figure it’s the least I can do because she’s been so nice to—

Oh, wait a minute. That’s not Dolly—

To: Kate Mackenzie

Fr: Jen Sadler

Re: Paradise

Oh my God, you can’t leave me hanging like this. WHO IS IT?

Also, although you clearly aren’t missing us, we’re missing you. Craig’s first words when he stumbled out of the bedroom this morning were, “What? No pancakes?”

See? You’re missed.

So. Spill. Did you just have breakfast with PETER HARGRAVE, founder and CEO of the esteemed publication for which we work?

Tell me the truth: boxers or briefs?

J

To: Jen Sadler

Fr: Kate Mackenzie

Re: Paradise

Um, no, I did not just have pancakes with Peter Hargrave. Because Peter Hargrave was not who just came wandering out of Dolly’s bedroom. The person who just came wandering out of Dolly’s bedroom was someone I’ve never seen before. He was about our age, with shoulders out to here, and probably one of the more attractive men I’ve seen in a while. Like model attractive. Which, if you like that kind of thing, can be nice. I guess. Although I wouldn’t want to go out with someone who was prettier than me.

He just went, “Uh, hi,” when he saw me . . .

AND THEN HE LEFT!!!

Just LEFT!!!!!!!!!!

I do not want to cast aspersions on Dolly’s reputation, but I think . . . well, I think Peter Hargrave might have some competition.

Oops, here’s Dolly. Explanation hopefully forthcoming.

Katie

To: Kate Mackenzie

Fr: Jen Sadler

Re: Paradise

WHO WAS HE?????

And I just want to apologize for the fact that Craig and I were unable to provide you with plasma screens, the Travel Channel, your own bathroom, and a river view. Not to mention strange, broad-shouldered men wandering through the apartment on Saturday mornings.

Now. WHO WAS HE?????

To: Jen Sadler

Fr: Kate Mackenzie

Re: Paradise

Um, Dolly doesn’t appear to know his name. She just calls him Skiboy. Because he is a skiing instructor.

She met him last night. SHE MET HIM LAST NIGHT!!!!! AND SLEPT WITH HIM ALREADY!!!!!!

I don’t want to sound like some girl from Kentucky, but excuse me, what happened to getting to know someone before getting horizontal with them? She could have at least found out his NAME, for crying out loud.

But when I mentioned this to Dolly, she just went, “Who cares about hisname , darling, when he’s got thoseshoulders?”

And so Skiboy I’m afraid he is destined to remain.

I asked Dolly what about Peter Hargrave, and she told me she and Peter have had an open relationship ever since his third marriage.

Dolly really likes my pancakes. After this we are going jogging (!) around the reservoir in order to keep our girlish figures. Then we’re going to some new opening at the Met. Want to join us?

Katie

P.S. Really, your place is much better than Dolly’s. All she has in the fridge is champagne and yogurt. Really. I had to use Better Butter to make the pancakes, so they are a bit runny.

To: Kate Mackenzie

Fr: Jen Sadler

Re: Jogging

Um, thank you for the invitation, but I am trying to get pregnant, remember? The last thing I need is for my uterus to fall out, which is always what I fear is going to happen whenever I go jogging.

Have fun with your new little friend. Craig and I will probably just go to the movies, or something. Not all of us can lead glamorous jet-setting lives with Skiboys trailing in and out of our penthouse.

J

P.S. Dale left four messages on the machine and finally settled for throwing a can of Del Monte peaches with a note wrapped around it onto our fire escape. Do Del Monte peaches have some kind of symbolic meaning for the two of you? Or do you think he just couldn’t find a brick? Anyway, near as I can decipher—his handwriting is execrable, I suppose because he’s a musical genius, or whatever—the note says:

Katie, sorry about what happened at your office. Please don’t be mad. I swear I’ll never do it again. But I really need to know: Have you seen my bowling shoes? You know, those ones I accidentally wore home from Chelsea Piers that one night? Because I really need them for a gig. They go great with my plaid pants.

Love always,

Dale

P.S. Who was that guy in the Bugs Bunny tie, or whatever it was, who kept looking like he wanted to hit me? Is he like your new boss or something? What happened to the T.O.D.? Anyway, I don’t like that guy very much. That’s all. Dale

Such a charmer. Hey, maybe Dolly’ll share Skiboy with you! Have fun at the concert.

J