The Boy Next Door by Meg Cabot Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Meg Cabot
shouldn’t count on that happening, since I hear this new neighbor of yours looks pretty good in the buff.
George
To: Dolly Vargas
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: Max Friedlander
Dolly, I swear to God, if you tell one more person that I saw Max Friedlander naked I will personally come over there and put a stake through your heart, which I hear is the only way to stop someone like you.
He was not NAKED, okay? He was fully clothed. FULLY CLOTHED AT ALL TIMES.
Well, except for his forearms. But that’s all I saw, I swear it.
So, stop telling people otherwise!!!
Mel
To: Mel Fuller
From: Dolly Vargas
Subject: Max Friedlander
Darling, have I struck a nerve or something? I’ve never seen you use all caps quite so strenuously. Max must have really made an impression on you for you to be so heated up.
But then, he has that effect on women. He can’t help it. Pheromones, you know. The man is lousy with them.
Well, must go. Peter Hargrave is taking me to lunch. Yes, that’s right: Peter Hargrave, the editor in chief. Who knows, when I get back from lunch, I just might have a nice fat promotion.
But don’t worry, I won’t forget the little people.
XXXOOO
Dolly
P.S.: What do you think of Aaron’s new pants? Aren’t they just the thing? Hugo Boss.
I know, I know. But it’s a start.
To: Tony Salerno
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: Saturday
Hi! Just a quick note to tell you not to worry—I’ll be there Saturday.
Yes, the dog guy actually showed up!
See you then.
Proud to be your future wife’s maid of honor,
Mel
To: John Trent
From: Jason Trent
Subject: How’d it go?
She’s a redhead? That’s IT? You’re just going to leave me hanging here?
WHAT HAPPENED???
Jason
P.S.: Stacy wants to know, too.
To: Jason Trent
From: John Trent
Subject: How it went
Sorry. I got hung up on a story, and then I had to go back to friedlander’s aunt’s place to walk the dog. Max failed to mention that the misleadingly named Paco is a GREAT DANE. The dog weighs more than Mim.
So what do you want to know?
Did she believe I was Max Friedlander? I am sorry to say that she did.
Did I play the part of Max Friedlander to perfection? I guess I must have, or she wouldn’t have believed I was he.
Do I feel like a grade-A heel for doing it? Yes. Self-flagellation for me.
The worst part is…well, I already told you the worst part. She thinks I’m Max Friedlander . Max Friedlander, the ingrate who doesn’t even seem to care that someone coldcocked his eighty-year-old aunt.
Melissa cares, though.
That’s her name. The redhead. Melissa. People call her Mel. That’s what she told me. “People call me Mel.” She moved to the city right after college, which makes her about twenty-seven years old, since she’s lived here for five years. Originally, she’s from Lansing, Illinois. Have you ever heard of Lansing, Illinois? I’ve heard of Lansing, Michigan, but not Lansing, Illinois. She says it’s a small town where you can walk down Main Street and everyone goes, “Oh, hi, Mel.”
Just like that. “Oh, hi, Mel.”
On her bookshelves are, among a great many other books, copies of every single thing ever written by Stephen King. Melissa has a theory that for every century there’s a writer who sums up the popular culture of the time, and for the nineteenth century it was Dickens, and for the twentieth it was Stephen King.
She says it has yet to be determined who is going to be the voice of the twenty-first century.
You know what my ex, Heather (you remember Heather, don’t you, Jason? The one you and Stacy referred to as the mouth breather?), had on her bookshelves, Jason?
The complete works of
George
To: Dolly Vargas
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: Max Friedlander
Dolly, I swear to God, if you tell one more person that I saw Max Friedlander naked I will personally come over there and put a stake through your heart, which I hear is the only way to stop someone like you.
He was not NAKED, okay? He was fully clothed. FULLY CLOTHED AT ALL TIMES.
Well, except for his forearms. But that’s all I saw, I swear it.
So, stop telling people otherwise!!!
Mel
To: Mel Fuller
From: Dolly Vargas
Subject: Max Friedlander
Darling, have I struck a nerve or something? I’ve never seen you use all caps quite so strenuously. Max must have really made an impression on you for you to be so heated up.
But then, he has that effect on women. He can’t help it. Pheromones, you know. The man is lousy with them.
Well, must go. Peter Hargrave is taking me to lunch. Yes, that’s right: Peter Hargrave, the editor in chief. Who knows, when I get back from lunch, I just might have a nice fat promotion.
But don’t worry, I won’t forget the little people.
XXXOOO
Dolly
P.S.: What do you think of Aaron’s new pants? Aren’t they just the thing? Hugo Boss.
I know, I know. But it’s a start.
To: Tony Salerno
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: Saturday
Hi! Just a quick note to tell you not to worry—I’ll be there Saturday.
Yes, the dog guy actually showed up!
See you then.
Proud to be your future wife’s maid of honor,
Mel
To: John Trent
From: Jason Trent
Subject: How’d it go?
She’s a redhead? That’s IT? You’re just going to leave me hanging here?
WHAT HAPPENED???
Jason
P.S.: Stacy wants to know, too.
To: Jason Trent
From: John Trent
Subject: How it went
Sorry. I got hung up on a story, and then I had to go back to friedlander’s aunt’s place to walk the dog. Max failed to mention that the misleadingly named Paco is a GREAT DANE. The dog weighs more than Mim.
So what do you want to know?
Did she believe I was Max Friedlander? I am sorry to say that she did.
Did I play the part of Max Friedlander to perfection? I guess I must have, or she wouldn’t have believed I was he.
Do I feel like a grade-A heel for doing it? Yes. Self-flagellation for me.
The worst part is…well, I already told you the worst part. She thinks I’m Max Friedlander . Max Friedlander, the ingrate who doesn’t even seem to care that someone coldcocked his eighty-year-old aunt.
Melissa cares, though.
That’s her name. The redhead. Melissa. People call her Mel. That’s what she told me. “People call me Mel.” She moved to the city right after college, which makes her about twenty-seven years old, since she’s lived here for five years. Originally, she’s from Lansing, Illinois. Have you ever heard of Lansing, Illinois? I’ve heard of Lansing, Michigan, but not Lansing, Illinois. She says it’s a small town where you can walk down Main Street and everyone goes, “Oh, hi, Mel.”
Just like that. “Oh, hi, Mel.”
On her bookshelves are, among a great many other books, copies of every single thing ever written by Stephen King. Melissa has a theory that for every century there’s a writer who sums up the popular culture of the time, and for the nineteenth century it was Dickens, and for the twentieth it was Stephen King.
She says it has yet to be determined who is going to be the voice of the twenty-first century.
You know what my ex, Heather (you remember Heather, don’t you, Jason? The one you and Stacy referred to as the mouth breather?), had on her bookshelves, Jason?
The complete works of
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