Authors: Meg Cabot
The Boy Next Door (11 page)
To: Mel Fuller
From: Nadine Wilcock
Subject: Calm down
He is not gay. All right? That is just Dolly. She is messing with your head. She’s bored. Peter Hargrave won’t leave his wife for her, Aaron is still mooning over you, and Dolly has nothing better to do than torture you. You are just playing right into her hands by getting all upset like this.
Now, are we going to the noon or the five-thirty class tomorrow?
Nad
P.S.: I don’t have to tell you how much I hate this, right? This exercise thing? I mean, in case you didn’t know. I hate it. I really hate sweating. It’s not natural. It really isn’t.
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: But that would explain…
why he didn’t try to kiss me, or put his arm around me, or anything! He’s gay!
And I offered to go with him next time he goes up to the hospital to visit his aunt.
I must seem like the biggest nagging idiot in the world!
Mel
P.S.: Let’s go to the noon class so we can get it over with. I know you hate it, Nadine, but it’s good for you. And sweating
is
natural. People have been doing it for many thousands of years.
To: Mel Fuller
From: Nadine Wilcock
Subject: Are you…
suffering from a synaptic breakdown?
First of all, he’s not gay.
Secondly, even if he was gay, your saying you want to go with him to see his comatose aunt is hardly nagging. It’s actually very nice.
I told you not to listen to Dolly.
Remember the chenille bedspread? Remember when you saw him feeding the dog Alpo right there on the bed? Would a gay man
ever
do that to chenille?
Nad
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: Oh
Yes. You’re right. No gay man would ever abuse chenille in such a manner.
Thank God I have you in my life, Nadine.
Mel
P.S.: But if he isn’t gay, how come he hasn’t written back? I e-mailed him ages ago about some tropical depressions, and since then they’ve already been upgraded to storms!
From: Jason Trent
Subject: Oh for God’s sake…
Just call the girl, would you? While you’re sitting around beating yourself up, some other man could be stealing her out from under your nose!
Don’t worry, the Max Friedlander stuff will work itself out. You wouldn’t believe some of the lies Jason told me when we first started going out…foremost of which was that he went out once with Jody Foster. He just didn’t mention that it was when she happened to be on the same ferry he was taking to Catalina.
Yeah, he “went out” with her, all right.
Oh, and your grandmother showed me a picture of this Michelle girl, whom your brother insists was the most beautiful woman he has ever known: Hello, somebody call the pound, I think there’s a pit bull on the loose—
And here comes Jason, he’s screaming something about grilled cheese and why don’t I get my own e-mail account, and why must I keep pillaging his, and now he’s trying to shove me out of his chair, even though I am seven months pregnant with his unborn son, not to mention the mother of his daughters.
Stacy
From: Jason Trent
Subject: Go away
I just want you to know that while you are burdening my wife with your half-assed problems—all of which, by the way, are of your own making—everything here is going to pieces. I just had to make the girls their lunch and the cheese dripped out into the toaster oven all over everything and started a fire.
So all I have to say to you is get your own wife already and stop bothering mine.
Jason
From: Jason Trent
Subject: HI, UNCLE JOHN
IT’S US, HALEY AND BRITTANY. MOMMY AND DADDY ARE HAVING A BIG FIGHT OVER WHAT YOU SHOULD DO ABOUT THE REDHEADED LADY. MOMMY SAYS YOU SHOULD CALL
HER UP AND ASK HER OUT TO DINNER. DADDY SAYS YOU SHOULD GET THERAPY.
IF YOU MARRY THE REDHEADED LADY, WILL SHE BE OUR AUNT?
WHEN ARE YOU COMING TO SEE US? WE MISS YOU. WE HAVE BEEN VERY GOOD. EVERY TIME THAT VEIN IN DADDY’S HEAD STARTS TO TURN PURPLE WE SING THAT SONG YOU TAUGHT US, JUST LIKE YOU SAID TO. YOU KNOW WHICH SONG. THE ONE ABOUT DIARRHEA.
WELL, WE HAVE TO GO. DADDY SAYS TO GET OFF HIS DESK.
WRITE SOON!!!
LOVE,
BRITTANY AND HALEY
To: Mel Fuller
From: [email protected]
Subject: Baseball-sized hail, and other weather anomalies
Dear Melissa,
Sorry it took me so long to get back to you. I had some business that needed tending to. But it looks like it’s all more or less in order now—at least, as much as it can be for the moment.
It’s sweet of you to offer to visit my aunt with me, but you really don’t have to.
Wait. Stop. I know what you’re going to say.
So to cut you off at the pass, might I suggest that we do it tomorrow evening, if you don’t already have plans?
And I think I will take this opportunity to discuss something that has been weighing somewhat heavily on my conscience ever since we met: the great debt I owe you for saving my aunt’s life.
Stop. Again, I know what you’re going to say. But the fact of the matter is, you did exactly that. The police told me so.
So although it is rather an inadequate means of expressing my immense gratitude and appreciation for what you did, I was hoping that you’d let me take you out to dinner some night. And since I know how deeply this will offend your Midwestern sensibilities, I am prepared to let you pick the restaurant, lest you worry that I might choose a place destined to bankrupt me.
Think it over and let me know. As you are aware, my evenings are, thanks to Paco, quite free until eleven.
Sincerely,
John
P.S.: Did you see that thing on the Weather Channel last night? Why is it that people who attempt to drive through flash-flood-swollen rivers in their SUVs always end up being people who don’t know how to swim?
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: He wrote back!
And he asked me out.
Well, sort of. I guess it’s more of a pity/thank you thing than an actual date.
But maybe if I get just the right dress…
You’re the restaurant expert. Which one should I pick?
Mel
To: Mel Fuller
From: Nadine Wilcock
Subject: You aren’t going to…
be able to pay your rent next month if you keep buying outfits to impress this guy.
I have an idea. Wear something you already own. He can’t have seen everything you own already. He only moved in a couple of weeks ago, and I know you have ten million skirts.
Here’s another idea: Why don’t the two of you come to Fresche? That way, Tony and I can get a look at him and let you know what we think.
Just a thought.
Nad
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: Ha!
What do you think I am, stupid? We aren’t going anywhere near Fresche. Not in a million years.
Mel
To: Mel Fuller
From: Tony Salerno
Subject: So we’re not good enough for you, huh?
I guess when it comes to fine dining, you really know who your friends are. I mean, evidently, you have some kind of prejudice against my restaurant that I never knew about before now.
And yet whenever I’ve offered to grill you up some of my classic chicken paillard, you’ve never turned me down. Could it be that all this time, you’ve merely been humoring me?
What about Nadine? She’s not really your best friend, is she? You probably have some fancy other best friend tucked away for emergencies, don’t you?
It’s all becoming clear now.
Tony
To: Tony Salerno
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: You know good and well
why I don’t want to go to your restaurant. I don’t care to be gawked at by my best friend and her boyfriend!
And you know it.
You are really insufferable, you know that? It’s a good thing you’re such a good cook—and so good-looking, too, of course.
Mel ;-)
To: Mel Fuller
From: Dolly Vargas
Subject: Dinner
Darling, are you mad? You have simply got to make him take you to La Grenouille. There just isn’t anywhere else worthwhile.
And it isn’t as if he can’t afford it. My God, Max Friedlander made a fortune photographing that Vivica creature for that new Maybelline print campaign.
After all, you did give that woman first aid. For that he owes you something from Tiffany’s, or Cartier, at the very least.
XXXOOO
Dolly
To: Mel Fuller
From: George Sanchez
Subject: Corner bistro
That’s where you make the guy take you. Best burgers in the city. Plus you can watch the game while you eat.
George
To: Mel Fuller
From: Jimmy Chu
Subject: How can you even
think of going anywhere but Peking Duck House? You know it’s the best Peking duck in the city.
Jim
To: Mel Fuller
From: Tim Grabowski
Subject: Gaydar
Nadine passed me your friend John’s latest e-mail, which I guess you forwarded to her, and I can say unequivocally, speaking as a homosexual, that this man is straight. No gay man I know would ever let a woman choose the restaurant, even if she did save his aunt’s life.
Make him take you to Fresche. Nadine and I and the rest of the gang are going to sit at the bar and pretend we don’t know you. Puh-lease make him take you to Fresche….
Y’all have a nice time and be sure to practice safe sex, you hear?
Tim
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: For the love of God…
would you please stop telling everyone who works here about my personal life? It is so humiliating! Tim Grabowski from Programming just e-mailed me. And if Programming knows, you know it’s only a matter of time before it gets down to Art. And what if somebody in Art knows Max Friedlander, and tells him how everybody in Features is talking about him?
I mean, my God, what are you trying to do?
Mel
To: Dolly Vargas
From: Nadine Wilcock
Subject: Mel
All right everybody, lay off her. We’re just making her nervous.
I really mean that, Dolly, so don’t even think about another ladies’ room ambush.
Nad
P.S.: Besides, you know she can’t keep a secret to save her life. She’ll blab about where they’re going eventually, and then we’ll have her. ;-)
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: Dinner
Dear John,
Hi! It’s really sweet of you to offer to take me to dinner, but you really don’t have to.
I was happy to do what I did for your aunt. I only wish I could have done more.
But if you really insist, I honestly don’t care where we go to dinner.
Well, that’s not true, there is one place I really DON’T want to go, and that’s Fresche. Anywhere else is fine. Why don’t you surprise me?
See you back on the fifteenth floor tonight at six (ICU visiting hours are only from six-thirty to seven)?
Mel
To: Mel Fuller
From: [email protected]
Subject: Dinner
You got it.
I’ll make reservations for eight. I hope you know what you’re doing, however, letting me choose the restaurant. I am very partial to entrails, you know.
John
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: I don’t believe you
You’re just trying to scare me.
I grew up on a farm. We had entrails on toast every morning for breakfast.
Mel
To: John Trent
From: Sergeant Paul Reese
Subject: Last night
Trent—
Look, man, I can’t apologize enough. I don’t know what’s going on between you and the redheaded broad, but I didn’t mean to blow it. I was just so surprised to see you there! I mean, John Trent,
at the Animal Medical Center? What kind of crime could he be following up on? Certainly one of a fowl nature….
Sorry. Couldn’t resist.
Seriously, we were just there to check on Hugo, the precinct’s bomb-sniffing pooch. Some clown fed him a bunch of KFC left over from lunch, and you know what they say about dogs and chicken bones….
Well, it turns out to be true. Although Hugo is expected to make a full recovery.
What
were
you doing there, man? You looked strung out. Well, for a guy with a hot babe like that on his arm.
Let me know if there’s anything I can do to make up for it…. Fix some parking tickets, maybe? Have the redhead’s husband held without bail for the weekend. Whatever.
Anything, anything to make it right again.
Paul