Boy - The Boy Next Door Part 15

To: Tim Grabowski From: Jimmy Chu Subject: Mel Fuller

Yeah, but if she sleeps with him and it doesn't work out, she's going to have to see him every day, since he lives right next door. How awkward is that going to be? Especially if she--or he--starts seeing someone else. It's a no win situation. Unless they get married, or something, and what's the chance of that happening?

Jim To: Stella Markowitz From: Angie So

Stella To: Adrian De Monte Subject: Mel Fuller Yes, but all the boys Mel's age are starting up Internet companies and can get supermodels any time they want, so what would they want with Mel, who is cute, but no supermodel? Either that, or they are professional skateboarders.

So I guess maybe it's okay that the guy is so old.

Les

To: Nadine Wilc.o.c.k From: George Sanchez Subject: Mel Fuller

What's a thirty-five-year-old guy doing still single, anyway? Has it occurred to anyone that he might very well be gay? Shouldn't somebody say something to Mel before she makes a fool of herself with this sleeping-with-him thing?

G.

To: Mel Fuller From: Nadine Wilc.o.c.k Subject: Are People Around The Office Talking About You

Are you kidding? Don't flatter yourself. We have way better things to worry about than your love life.

Nadine To: Stacy Trent >[email protected]> From: John Trent Subject: Kenny Rogers chicken You never seriously pa.s.sed this off as something you made in your own kitchen. No way.

John

To: John Trent From: Genevieve Randolph Trent Subject: The Benefit

Just a reminder, my dear boy, of your promise to attend the benefit with me. And, of course, your sweet little checque. I haven't heard from you in a few days. I do hope all is well.

Mim PS Did you hear about your cousin Serena?

To: Genevieve Randolph Trent From: John Trent Subject: Of course I didn't forget. I'm escorting you, remember? I even got the old tux out of storage and dusted it off. See you there.

John PS Yes, I did hear about Serena. I blame her parents for naming her Serena in the first place. What did they expect?

To: Mel Fuller From: George Sanchez Subject: What do you mean

you won't be back in the office until Monday? I think you're forgetting something, sweetie pie. The Lincoln Center Benefit to Raise Cancer Awareness. Only the biggest society event of the season. According to Dolly, everyone who is anyone is going to be there.

I don't care if you're bleeding out of the eyeb.a.l.l.s, Fuller. You're going.

I'm sending Larry to do photos. Be sure you get all those rich old biddies, the Astors and the Kennedys and the Trents. You know how they love seeing themselves in the paper, even a tired old rag like us.

G.

PS Your stupid doll is back on your computer. What was that all about, anyway?

To: Nadine Wilc.o.c.k From: George Sanchez Subject: Hey

Quit yelling. If she's well enough to contemplate having s.e.x with some guy, she's well enough to drag her sorry b.u.t.t out of bed and do her d.a.m.ned job.

G.

PS What kind of ship do you think I'm running here? This is not the slacker express,Wilc.o.c.k.

To: Mel Fuller From: [email protected] Subject: Listen, I knocked a little while ago, but you didn't answer, so I a.s.sume you're asleep. I didn't want to call and wake you up. The thing is, I have an a.s.signment tonight, so I'm not going to be able to stop by until late. Will you be all right? I'll bring more ice cream. This time I'll make sure it has lots of chocolate-covered nuts for you pick out.

John PS Hurricane Jan moving at 135 miles per hour towards Jamaica. Eye should pa.s.s over it sometime tonight. Looks like it might be pretty bad. That should cheer you up.

To: Mel Fuller From: Nadine Wilc.o.c.k Subject: Last night

Hey, how did it go? I tried to talk George out of making you go, but he was adamant. He said you were the only reporter he knew who could get the story without offending anybody. I guess Dolly wasn't exactly stellar at the whole charity-circuit thing. Well, that was undoubtedly because she was sleeping with all of the society wives husbands. I hope you don't suffer a relapse or something.

Nadine To: Jason Trent cc: Stacy Trent From: John Trent Subject: Now what do I do?

Okay, last night, when I escorted Mim to the Lincoln Center benefit, who should come strolling up to us with her little notebook and pencil but... Mel. Yes, that's right. Melissa Fuller, Page Ten correspondent, The New York Journal , who, last time I'd seen her, had been in bed with a copy of Cosmo and a temperature of a hundred. Next thing I know, she's standing in front of me in high heels and a miniskirt asking Mim if she feels her work raising cancer awareness will help bring about a cure someday. And then she notices me and breaks off and cries, John!

And Mim--you know Mim--swivels her head around and takes in the red hair and Midwestern accent and next thing you know, she's asking Mel to sit down with us and does she want some champagne? Now, I think I can safely say that this was the first time in Mel's journalistic career that one of her subjects invited her to sit down and have a drink at her table. And I know it's the first time Mim's ever invited a reporter for a private interview. And all I could do was sit there and kick Mim under the table every time she started to say anything remotely resembling my grandson, which of course she did about ten million times. So the fact is, Mel knows now that something is up. She has no idea what, of course. She thinks it's that Mim is in love with me. She thinks I should go for it, since a rich old bat like Mim could pay off all my credit cards. Although she warned me that all of Genevieve Trent's eight kids ended up in communes (Uncle Charles, Aunt Sara, and Aunt Elaine) or jail (Uncle Peter, Uncle Joe, and Dad). She neglected to mention the suicides, Aunt Claire and Uncle Frank. Further proof that Gramps was right to bribe the coroner. What fine stock we come from, don't we, Jason? Stacy, you should take the girls and run, run far away, now while you still can. So what do I do? Tell her? Or continue lying my head off? Could one of you please just shoot me?

J To: John Trent From: Jason Trent Subject: Tell her Just tell her. Please. I'm begging you. I'm not sure how much more of this I can take.

Jason To: John Trent From: Stacy Trent Subject: Don't tell her until after you've had s.e.x with her. I'm serious. Because if you're good enough in bed, she won't care. I know I have s.e.x on the brain, and it's up to you, of course, but that's how I'd handle it.

Stacy To: Stacy Trent From: John Trent Subject: Oh, okay, thanks Oh, I should just sleep with her. Oh, of course. Why didn't I think of that? IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU???? I mean, besides the fact that you're married to my brother. Don't you remember what it was like to be single? You couldn't just sleep with somebody. I mean, yeah, you could, but it never worked out. I WANT THIS TO WORK OUT. That's why it's important that BEFORE we sleep together, we establish a warm and loving friendship. Right? I mean, isn't that what Oprah's always saying?

J.

To: John Trent From: Stacy Trent Subject: But don't you think you've established a warm and loving relationship? I mean, you brought her ice cream and did her dishes, for G.o.d's sake. The girl owes you. She'll put out, don't worry.

S.

To: Stacy Trent From: John Trent Subject: Excuse me, but Is that the sp.a.w.n of Satan gestating within you, or my nephew? What is wrong with you? She'll put out, don't worry. n.o.body puts out because you bring them ice cream. If that were true, those guys who drive the Mr. Softee trucks.... Well, you get my drift. No, I want to do this right. But the sad fact of the matter is that every woman I've ever gone out with has always had one eye on my wallet--and we're talking mostly women Mim fixed me up with, the creme de la creme of New York society, who you would think had plenty of money in their own Schwab accounts--so getting them into my bed was never a difficulty. Usually it was trying to get them out of it that was the problem. Mel, however, is not exactly what you'd call the falling-into-bed type. In fact, she's pretty shy. I don't know what I'm going to do. I was serious about the shooting thing, you know. I really wouldn't mind a bullet between the eyes, if it was all over quickly, and Mel didn't have to end up walking Paco again.

John To: John Trent From: Stacy Trent Subject: Oh, for G.o.d's sake Just go for it. Just knock on the door and when she opens it pull her out into the hallway and start kissing her deeply and intrusively. Then push her up against the wall and pull her blouse from the waistband of her skirt and put your hand underneath her bra and knoiueroihnmn,/.........

To: John Trent From: Jason Trent Subject: You'll have to excuse my wife. She is a quivering ma.s.s of hormones right now. In fact, I just had to put her to bed with a cold compress. I would appreciate it if you would refrain from discussing anything of a s.e.xual nature with her until after the baby comes. Six to eight weeks after the baby has come, as a matter of fact. As I am sure she has explained to you, she is at her s.e.xual peak.

And yet, as you undoubtedly know, her doctor has advised her that she is at a stage in her pregnancy when it might be dangerous for the baby for us to engage in--Well, you know.

So would you shut your piehole about the whole s.e.x thing between you and this girl?

And while we're on the subject, whatever happened to taking a girl to dinner? Huh? That always works in the movies. You took a girl out for a nice romantic dinner, maybe a carriage ride through Central Park, unless she was the type of girl who would think that was lame, and if you were lucky, she'd put out. Right?

So take her somewhere nice. Don't you know the guy at Belew's? Isn't that the nicest restaurant in town? Take her there. And this time, if the d.a.m.ned cat gets sick, let the stupid thing die. That's what I think, anyway.

Jason

To: John Trent From: Brittany and Ashley Trent Subject: HI UNCLE JOHN

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF OUR NEW EMAIL ACCOUNT? DADDY GOT IT.

FOR US SO WE WOULD STOP USING HIS. WE HEARD MOMMY AND DADDY TALKING.

ABOUT YOU AND THE RED-HEADED LADY AGAIN. THEY SAID YOU AREN'T SURE.

HOW TO.

LET HER KNOW YOU LIKE HER. WELL, IN THE SECOND GRADE, WHEN YOU ARE A.

BOY WHO LIKES A GIRL,.

YOU GIVE HER YOUR BEST POKEMON CARD. OR YOU PULL HER HAIR. NOT HARD.

ENOUGH TO MAKE HER CRY,.

THOUGH. OR YOU CAN ASK TO HER ROLLERSKATE BACKWARDS WITH YOU, AND.

THEN HOLD HER HAND SO SHE.

DOESN'T FALL DOWN. HOPE THIS HELPS!.

LOVE,.

BRITTANY AND ASHLEY.

To: John Trent From: Genevieve Randolph Trent Subject: I am not even

going to ask what that was all about at the benefit. I can only a.s.sume that you, like all of your cousins, have completely lost your mind. I suppose that was the Miss Fuller, of the Lansing, Illinois, Fullers. For the life of me, I can't imagine why you've been hiding her away like that. I thought her perfectly charming. I a.s.sume she has a cold and does not always p.r.o.nounce her th s as d s. And yet you are obviously playing some sort of game with her. My ankle, I think you should know, is black and blue from all the times you kicked it.

You have always been completely hopeless where women are concerned, so do let me give you this piece of advice: whatever game you're playing, it isn't going to work, John. Girls don't like games. Even, I am told, girls from Lansing, Illinois.

Mim To: From: Mel Fuller < p="">

I had no idea you were going to be there. You must have written after I'd left. My horrible mean boss made me go. I didn't want to. I felt terrible. But he made me, so I put on some mascara and a dress and I went, stuffy nose and fever and all. It wasn't too bad.

I mean, the shrimp was good. Not that I could really taste it, but whatever.

Anyway, I had no idea you go to that kind of stuff. Were you taking pictures? Where was your camera? I didn't see it. That Mrs. Trent was pretty nice. How do you know her? Did you do her portrait, or something? It's funny how you hear stuff about people, and then you meet them, and they're exactly the opposite. Like I always heard Genevieve Randolph Trent was this horrible ice b.i.t.c.h. But then she was so nice. You know, if she wasn't like a hundred years old, I'd say she has a crush on you, because the whole time we were talking, she just kept looking and looking at you.

It's good, you know, that with all her money, she does stuff for charity. Mrs. Trent, I mean. I've covered stories about lots of people who don't. Actually, all of Mrs. Trents'

kids (she had EIGHT, did you know that?) are these huge slackers who live on communes or are in jail. I feel sorry for them. And for her, a little.

Anyway, I am back at work because they simply can't do without me around here, but I was wondering if you'd let me take you out to dinner one night soon as a sort of thank you for looking out for me when I was feeling so rotten? Let me know when you're free...Mrs. Trent, I know, should get first dibs on your time, seeing as how if you married her, you could pay off all your credit cards right away, and not ever have to worry about maxing them out again. Just a suggestion.

Mel