Every Boy's Got One by Meg Cabot Read Free Book Online

Guy?
     
     
    Why don’t you send some of it my way? I’ll keep it safe for you. This whole weaving thing isn’t really working out, anyway, and I was thinking of heading up north with this guy who’s got a tiedye biz going out of his van.
     
    Anyway, keep in touch. And welcome back to the good old US of A. It sucks just as much now as it did when you left.
     
    Mare
     
    PS Have you heard the latest about Mom? She actually has a SHOW. An ART show. Of her stupid lint/clothespin people. I don’t know how SHE can get a show and I can’t. My weavings are way more artistic than her lint people.
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    To: Cal Langdon
    Fr: Graziella Fratiani
    Re: You
     
    What is this I hear about you coming to Roma and not calling to me? I would not have known a thing about it if Dolly Vargas hadn’t happened to mention it during our interview. You are a naughty, naughty boy. Where are you staying? Call me. You know the number. I will come by your hotel and give you a true Italian welcome.
     
    Ciao, amore XXXX
    Grazi

PDA of Cal Langdon
     
    Art sent the UK cover design for Sandstoday. It’s got a very romantic feel to it that I’m not sure is entirely appropriate, considering the book’s subject matter. Well, I suppose if it tricks unsuspecting readers into buying it, expecting it to be a work of fiction about a mummy’s curse instead of a nonfiction treatise on Saudi Arabia’s tiring oil fields, all the better.
    I can’t believe Aaron Spender is still among the living. I’d have assumed Barbara Bellerieve bit his head off and ate it on their wedding night. I still marvel at my own lucky escape from her clutches. If it hadn’t been for that Daisy Cutter…
    And Mary. I guess that grand I sent her last month didn’t last very long. What the hell does she do with it all? It’s not like she ever has anything to show for it. She can’t smoke it ALL away, can she? I wish Mom and Dad had taken some control over her earlier in her adolescence. She probably wouldn’t still be living out of some guy’s van at the age of twenty-five.
    But I guess they weren’t necessarily the best role models, as parents go, considering Dad’s obsession with the track and Mom’s conviction that she’s the next Grandma Moses. It’s surprising, actually, that Mary isn’t a bigger flake than she is….
    Much like some people I could mention. It was amusing, coming from the airport, to hear Holly’s friend squeal at the sight of every monument—and every passing billboard. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen anyone get so excited about a sign for mouthwash. I thought she was going to have a coronary when we drove by the Colosseum. I’m not entirely sure which impressed her more… the fact that it’s stood for over two thousand years, or the fact that Britney Spears was recently there, filming a television commercial (at least, that’s what Holly’s friend announced to all of us).
    There is something refreshing about American enthusiasm for antiquity. I guess I forget, having been away so long, that there is still a place on this earth where there are no structures older than half a millennium. It must be impressive to see something that existed fifteen hundred years before the Mayflower….
    Of course, if we hadn’t slaughtered all the Indians and destroyed their native lands, it would be different.
    Good Lord. It just occurred to me. What if that wasn’t what she was impressed by? What if it was the Britney Spears thing?
    But no. No, that couldn’t be. Not even an artist could be that shallow.
    I’ll have to remember to change money later, if I can find a place with a decent exchange rate. I blew my last euro on that cab ride—
    That was the concierge. Grazi is here. That didn’t take her long. I called her less than half an hour ago. Still, I thought she’d be coming over later tonight, not NOW.
    I guess it would be ungentlemanly of me not to see her,