J
___________________________________________
To: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>
Fr: Holly Caputo <holly.caputo@thenyjournal.com>
Re: Where is he?
Right. Like I’ll be able to go back to sleep NOW. Janie, WHY are you in a downstairs closet? And WHY don’t you want to run into Cal? Tell me now, or I’m coming down there and ripping that closet door open.
Holly
___________________________________________
To: Holly Caputo <holly.caputo@thenyjournal.com>
Fr: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>
Re: Where is he?
It’s NOTHING, okay? After you went up to bed, and Mark went to see if he could find another bottle of scotch after we polished off the last one, Cal said he wanted to have a word with me alone before bed. That’s all. Now I am hiding in the closet because I don’t want to have a word with him. OK? Are you satisfied?
J
PS If you figure out where he is, let me know, and if he’s far from the stairs, I’ll make a run for my room. Then I can turn out all the lights and pretend to be asleep if he knocks.
___________________________________________
To: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>
Fr: Holly Caputo <holly.caputo@thenyjournal.com>
Re: Where is he?
Janie, don’t be such a freak! He LIKES you. He MUST. Why else would he want to see you alone? He probably wants to… you know.
And why not? You’re both on vacation, you’re both attractive, you’re both single… why WOULDN’T you hook up?
Holly
___________________________________________
To: Holly Caputo <holly.caputo@thenyjournal.com>
Fr: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>
Re: Where is he?
Um, why WOULD we? He is a modelizer, lest you forget.
And believe me, sex is NOT what he wants from me.
J
___________________________________________
To: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>
Fr: Holly Caputo <holly.caputo@thenyjournal.com>
Re: Where is he?
Then what is it? What on earth do you think he wants to talk to you about?
Holly
___________________________________________
To: Holly Caputo <holly.caputo@thenyjournal.com>
Fr: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>
Re: What on earth I think he wants to talk to me about
Oh, you might be surprised.
J
___________________________________________
To: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>
Fr: Holly Caputo <holly.caputo@thenyjournal.com>
Re: What on earth I think he wants to talk to me about
Janie, you really have to get over this absurd prejudice you have about Cal. Mark and I were talking about it earlier, when you were doing the dishes, and Cal was cleaning the grill. You two actually have a lot in common. I mean, you both come from small towns. You both are extremely successful, and you both built up your careers from basically nothing. You’re both attractive and creative. And you’re both friends with us! You two would make an AWESOME couple. Just give him a chance. I know he’s not up to your usual standards—seeing as how he has a job and is over twenty-five—but he might surprise you.
Holly
___________________________________________
To: Holly Caputo <holly.caputo@thenyjournal.com>
Fr: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>
Re: What on earth I think he wants to talk to me about
Excuse me, but did you just use the word AWESOME?
J
___________________________________________
To: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>
Fr: Holly Caputo <holly.caputo@thenyjournal.com>
Re: What on earth I think he wants to talk to me about
Stop being so silly. Come out of the closet. See what he wants!
Holly
___________________________________________
To: Holly Caputo <holly.caputo@thenyjournal.com>
Fr: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>
Re: What he wants
Believe me, I know. And it is so not going to happen. Trust me on this, H. It’s in your own best interest.
J
___________________________________________
To: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>
Fr: Holly Caputo <holly.caputo@thenyjournal.com>
Re: What he wants
Well, I think you’re being completely ridiculous. And I’m not having this conversation anymore. I’m going to get some sleep. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow—you promised you’d go into Castelfidardo with us to petition for the marriage license and pick the day for the ceremony. I don’t know about you, but I want to look good for the mayor’s office. Good night.
Holly
___________________________________________
To: Holly Caputo <holly.caputo@thenyjournal.com>
Fr: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>
Re: What he wants
Fine, go to sleep. Traitor. I’m doing this for your own good, you know.
Well, no, I guess you don’t.
And believe me, I intend to keep it that way!
Buona sera.
J
PDA of Cal Langdon
PDA of Cal Langdon
God bless Zio Matteo. The man may not care much about his home’s electrical wiring, but at least he keeps a well-stocked liquor cabinet. Mark and I finished off the better part of a bottle of twelve-year-old scotch, and though it’s a bit hard to type this, with my fingers feeling so numb, at least I got the picture of that snake out of my head at last.
The rain’s finally stopped, too. The stars have come out, and there’s a lovely warm breeze—slightly scented with horse manure—coming from the east. The pool and the wet stone surface around it are glistening in the moonlight, and somewhere in the distance—over the snoring of Mark, passed out face down at the table beside me—I hear the braying of a donkey. It reminds me of those nights in Baghdad with Barbara Bellerieve, before she finally gave up on getting a ring out of me and hooked up with Aaron Spender—poor bastard.
Something which I realize has begun to happen with alarming regularity. Women I’ve slept with settling down with someone else, I mean.
I guess I shouldn’t complain. God knows I’m not looking to register at Williams-Sonoma with any of them.
But it is a bit strange that all of my friends are pairing off. Mark, for instance. Well, not that I wouldn’t have expected it of Mark, seeing as how he never exactly blazed any trails for rugged individuality in his lifetime. He does grill a mean turbot though.
But even people I’d pegged as lifelong bachelors—John Trent, for instance, over at the Chronicle—and Spender are taking the plunge.
Will it be long before I am the only single male my age left in the world? And if so… why? Don’t these guys realize what they’re getting themselves into?
I will admit, in Mark’s case, the situation doesn’t seem as dire as I once thought, despite what Ruth Levine might claim. Holly appears to be a cheerful, caring companion, who doesn’t fall short in the looks department, either. She put together a wicked antipasto to go with the fish, an artfully arranged platter of marinated artichokes, mushroom, olives, fresh mozzarella, roasted red peppers, sundried tomatoes, and parmesan, all drizzled with olive oil and balsamic.