Part 4 (2/2)

Remember, you're supposed to be me, so try to act like you care about the old lady's hemotoma, or whatever it is. And listen, as long as you're being me, could you try to dress with a little...what's the word I'm looking for here? Oh, I know. STYLE. I know for guys like you who are born into money, the instinct is to downplay the trillions you're worth.

And that's cool with me. I mean, I can understand this whole thing you're doing, getting a real job instead of the cushy family one your big brother offered.

And I'm totally fine with it. If you want to pretend like you're only making forty five grand a year, that's just great. But while you're being me, could you PLEASE not dress like a grad student?

I am begging you: No Grateful Dead T-s.h.i.+rts. And stone-washed jeans? Yeah, those are OUT, John.

And those deck shoes you always wear? Would something in a ta.s.sel kill you?

And for the love of G.o.d, invest in a leather jacket. Please. I know it will mean touching some of those precious millions in that trust fund your grandfather left you, but really, something NOT from the Gap would be good.

That's all. That's all I ask. Just try to look good when you're imitating me. I have a reputation to uphold, you know.

Max

PS The neighbor left a number, but I lost it. Her email's

To: Max Friedlander

From: John Trent < Subject: SOS Christ, Friedlander, she works for the NY JOURNAL????

You didn't say that. You didn't say anything about your aunt's neighbor working for the NY Journal. Don't you get it, Max? She might KNOW me. I'm a journalist. So is she. Yeah, we work for rival papers, but for G.o.d's sake, the field's pretty small. What if she opens the door and it turns out we've been to the same conferences--or crime scenes?

Your cover will be blown. Or do you not care?

J.

PS And how am I supposed to email her? She's going to know I'm not you when she reads my address.

To: John Trent < From: Max Friedlander

Subject: Operation Paco

Of course I care. And don't worry, I already checked her out. She does the gossip page. I doubt you've been running into any gossip columnists at the crime scenes you've been covering lately.

Max PS Apply for a second email account. My G.o.d, it's not like you don't have the money. PPS Quit bugging me. Vivica and I are trying to watch the sunset.

To: Max Friedlander

From: John Trent < Subject: I'm not happy Gossip? She's a gossip columnist, Max? She's going to know I'm not you for SURE. Max? MAX???

To: Nadine Wilc.o.c.k < From: Mel Fuller < Subject: Max Friedlander Oh my G.o.d, Nadine! I heard from him! He's on a.s.signment in Ethiopia, photographing little starving kids for the Save the Children Fund! And I've just asked him to leave to come home and take care of his aunt's dog! What kind of a horrible b.i.t.c.h must I seem to him? Oh G.o.d, I knew I shouldn't have tried to contact him. Now he's going to hate me.

Mel To: Mel Fuller < From: Nadine Wilc.o.c.k < Subject: Max Friedlander

What's more important to him, a bunch of starving kids he doesn't know, or his aunt'sdog? I don't mean to sound cold, but starving children or not, the man has to take someresponsibility. Besides, his aunt is in a coma, Mel. I mean, if your only living relative is in a coma, you come home, for G.o.d's sake, starving kids or not.When's he getting here, anyway? Are you going to be able to make the pool party?Because Tony's threatening to break off the engagement if I don't go.

Nad :-/

To: Mel Fuller < From: Dolly Vargas < Subject: Max Friedlander Darling, I could hear you shrieking all the way in the art department. I thought at the very least the cast of Friends was breaking up. But now I find out it's only because Max Friedlander emailed you. But what's this I hear about him doing it from in Ethiopia? Max Friedlander would NEVER go to Ethiopia. My G.o.d, it's so...dusty there. You must be confusing him with someone else. Now, listen, about Aaron: I am bound and determined to make him into something I wouldn't be ashamed to introduce to Stephen. So do you think he'll resist strongly to my steering him over towards Barney's? He's simply got to have some linen pants, don't you think? He'll look so devastatingly F Scott Fitzgerald in linen. Can you say something, darling, next time you pa.s.s him on your way to the copier? Something completely cutting like, Nice khakis, ought to put him exactly where I want him.

Dolly x.x.xOOO To: Don and Beverly Fuller < From: Mel Fuller < Subject: Debbie Phillips Hi, Mom. Sorry it took me so long to get back to you. Things here have been pretty busy, like I mentioned to you over the phone. I'm still walking Mrs. Friedlander's dog, but tonight her nephew is supposed to come by, and hopefully we'll work something out. Which is good because I've been getting into trouble at work for being late every day. I don't know why people in Human Resources have such axes to grind against us every day working stiffs. It's like they think they're special, or something, because they control what goes into our performance files. Anyway, other than the stuff with Mrs. Friedlander (don't worry, Mom, I always lock my door, and I never open my door to strangers--besides, Ralph, the doorman, would never let a stranger up without buzzing me first), things have been going okay. I'm still stuck on Page Ten--I can't convince Mr. Sanchez, my boss, that I really could do hard reporting, if he'd let me. Let's see, what else? Oh, I broke up with that guy I told you about. It wasn't going anywhere. Well, at least, I didn't see it going where he saw it going. Besides, it turns out he was cheating on me with Barbara Bellerieve. Well, I guess he wasn't really cheating since he and I never really did anything anyway--don't let Daddy read this, all right? Oh, there's the buzzer. Mrs. Friedlander's nephew is here. I have to go.

Love, Mel To: Mel Fuller < From: Don and Beverly Fuller < Subject: Strange men Melissa! You call me as soon as that man is gone! How could you let a man you've never met before into your apartment? He could be that serial killer I saw on the Inside Edition! The one who puts on his victims clothes and strolls around in them after he's done hacking their bodies into pieces! If you don't call Daddy and me within one hour, I'm telephoning the police. I mean it, Melissa.

Mommy To: Mel Fuller < From: Nadine Wilc.o.c.k < Subject: Max Friedlander

So???? What was he like????

To: Mel Fuller < From: Tony Salerno < Subject: Well????

DON'T TELL NADINE I WROTE THIS. But listen, Mel, you have GOT to get this guy to take over the dog-walking thing for you. Because if you don't, and you can't come to this engagement party at my uncle Giovanni's, Nadine's going to have a nervous breakdown. I swear to G.o.d. Don't ask me why, but she's got this thing with her weight, and she needs like your moral support or something every time she has to get into a bathing suit. So as her maid of honor, it is your duty to appear with her at this party on Sat.u.r.day. So get this dude to walk the dog that day, okay? If he gives you a hard time, let me know. I'll take care of him. People think guys who cook can't be tough, but that's not true. I'll do to the guy's face what I did to tonight's special, which happened to be veal picatta--pounded flat and swimming in the lightest white wine sauce you ever tried. I'll give you the recipe if you want later. NOW DON'T FORGET!!!!!!!!!!

Tony To: John Trent < From: Max Friedlander

Subject: Operation Paco

You wore ta.s.sels, right? On your shoes? When you went to see her tonight? Just tell me you wore ta.s.sels.

Max To: Jason Trent < From: John Trent < Subject: How'd It Go?

Just wondering how your little performance this evening went.

And Stacy wants to know if you're still coming for dinner on Thursday like we planned.

Jason

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