The Boy Next Door (6 page)

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 an axe to grind against us everyday 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, this building is very safe. Besides, you know my apartment is rent-controlled—it’s not like I can just move. And I always lock my door, and I never open it 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 Wilcock

Subject: Max Friedlander

So??? What was he like???

Nad

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 God. 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.

As her maid of honor, it is your duty to appear with her at this party on Saturday. 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 piccata—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 tassels, right? On your shoes? When you went to see her tonight?

Just tell me you wore tassels.

Max

To: John Trent

From: Jason Trent

Subject: How’d it go?

Just wondering how your little performance went this evening.

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

Jason

To: John Trent

From: Max Friedlander

Subject: HI!!!

HI!!! THIS IS VIVICA, MAX’S FRIEND, WRITING TO YOU ON E-MAIL! MAX IS IN THE HOT TUB BUT HE ASKED ME TO ASK YOU HOW IT WENT WITH THAT WEIRD LADY WHO HAS THE DOG PROBLEM. DID SHE BELIEVE THAT YOU ARE MAX???

IT IS WEIRD TO BE WRITING TO YOU SEEING AS HOW I DON’T EVEN KNOW YOU. WHAT IS THE WEATHER LIKE IN NEW YORK? HERE IT IS EIGHTY AND BEAUTIFUL.

WE SAW SOME PERFORMING CATS TODAY. IT WAS CRAZY!!! WHO KNEW CATS COULD DO THAT???

OH, MAX SAYS TO ASK YOU TO CALL HIM HERE AT THE HOTEL AS SOON AS YOU GET THIS MESSAGE. THE NUMBER IS 305-555-6576. ASK FOR THE SOPRADILLA COTTAGE. SOPRADILLA IS A FLOWER. IT GROWS ALL OVER KEY WEST. KEY WEST IS ONLY NINETY MILES FROM CUBA, WHERE I ONCE DID A SWIMSUIT SHOOT.

UH-OH, I HAVE TO GO, MAX IS HERE.

VIVICA

To: Nadine Wilcock

From: Mel Fuller

Subject: What was he’s like?

Okay, the stats:

I would say six foot one or two. Big shoulders. I mean really big. Dark hair, but not too dark. Hazel eyes. You know the kind.
Sometimes green. Sometimes brown. Sometimes searing into my soul….

Just kidding.

As for the rest:

I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to explain. He wasn’t what I was expecting, that’s for sure. I mean, from what I’d heard, about the modeling shoots and everything, I was expecting a real smooth operator, you know?

But what kind of smooth operator goes around in a Grateful Dead T-shirt? And he had on jeans. And deck shoes with no socks.

I expected Gucci loafers at least.

And he was so modest—I mean, for a guy who entered a nude picture of himself into the Biennial. I think Dolly must be exaggerating about that. Maybe he wasn’t really nude. Maybe he was wearing one of those flesh-colored body stockings they wear, you know, in the movies.

And he didn’t want to talk about his trip to Ethiopia at all! When I mentioned the work he was doing for the Save the Children fund, he actually seemed embarrassed and tried to change the subject.

I tell you, Nadine, he doesn’t seem at all the way Dolly described him.

Even Mrs. Friedlander didn’t do him justice. She’s always talked about him as if she thought he was a little irresponsible, but I’m telling you, Nadine, he didn’t seem that way to me. He asked all sorts of things about what happened—I mean about the break-in, and all. Although I guess it wasn’t really a break-in, since the door wasn’t even locked….

Anyway, it was really touching how much he seemed to care about his aunt. He asked me to show him where I found her, and how she was lying, and if anything was missing….

It was almost as if he’d had some experience dealing with violent crime…. I don’t know. Maybe there were some catfights at the Victoria’s Secret shoot???!

Another odd thing: He seemed kind of surprised at how big Paco is. I mean, considering that I know Mrs. Friedlander had Max over for dinner at least a few months ago, and Paco’s five years old, so it’s not like he could have grown any. When I mentioned how last week Paco practically wrenched my shoulder out of its socket, Max said he didn’t see how a frail old lady could walk such a big dog on a regular basis.

Isn’t that funny? I guess only a nephew would think of Mrs. Friedlander as frail. She’s always seemed like a tough old bird to me. I mean, considering that last year she hiked all over Yosemite….

Anyway, Nadine, I’m so glad you made me get in touch with him! Because he said he didn’t feel right about me walking Paco with my hurt shoulder and all, and that he was going to move in next door, to take care of the animals and sort of keep an eye on things.

Can you believe that? A man who actually takes care of his responsibilities? I am still in shock.

I have to go—someone’s at the door. Oh, God, it’s the cops!

Gotta go—

Mel

To: Nadine Wilcock

From: Mel Fuller

Subject: What was he like?

Okay, the cops are gone. I explained about my mother and her obsession with the transvestite killer. They didn’t even get that mad.

Anyway, Nadine, do you want to know something else? About Max Friedlander, I mean. If you can stand it….

From where I’m sitting, at my desk at home, I can see into his apartment—I mean, Mrs. Friedlander’s apartment. Right into the spare bedroom. Mrs. Friedlander always kept the mini-blinds in that room down, but Max opened them right up (to look at the city lights, I guess—we do have that nice view here on the fifteenth floor) and I can see him lying on the bed, typing something on his laptop. Tweedledum is on the bed beside him, as is Paco, of course (no sign of Mr. Peepers, but then, he’s shy).

I know it’s wrong to look, but, Nadine, they look so nice and happy in there!

And I guess it doesn’t hurt that Max really has very nice forearms….

Oh, God. I had better go to bed. I think I’m getting slap-happy.

Love,

Mel

To: Jason Trent

From: John Trent

Subject: How’d it go?

She’s a redhead.

Help.

John

To: Mel Fuller

From: Dolly Vargas

Subject: Max Friedlander

Darling, did I overhear you correctly when I ran into you and Nadine at Starbucks this morning? Did you say Max Friedlander actually
moved in next door
to you?

And that you were actually
spying
on him?

And that you saw him
naked???

I seem to have gotten some water in my ears last weekend at Stephen’s, so I just want to make sure I heard you right before I call every single person I know and tell them.

XXXOOO

Dolly

To: Mel Fuller

From: Nadine Wilcock

Subject: Dolly

Mel—

Would you stop obsessing? Who is she going to tell? Dolly doesn’t know that many people here at the office.

And the ones she does know all hate her and wouldn’t believe her anyway.

Trust me.

Nad

To: Mel Fuller

From: Aaron Spender

Subject: You

Mel, did I hear this from Dolly correctly? Did a naked man move in next door to you? What happened to the old lady? Did she end up dying? I hadn’t heard. I’m very sorry for your loss, if that’s the case. I know the two of you were fairly close, for Manhattan neighbors.

But I don’t think it’s appropriate for a man to parade around nude in front of his neighbors. You really ought to complain to the co-op board about this, Melissa. I know you are only renting, and that you don’t like to make waves because you have such a good deal on the place, but this kind of thing could be perceived as a sexual assault. Really, it could.

Melissa, I was wondering if you’d given any thought to what I said in the elevator the other day. I really meant it. I think it’s time.

I remember that day when we went walking through Central Park during your lunch hour. It seems so long ago, but it was only last spring. You purchased a hot dog from an outdoor vendor, and I urged you not to, because of that story I did on carcinogens in street-cart food.

I’ll never forget the way your blue eyes flashed at me as you said, “Aaron, in order to die, you have to live a little first.”

Melissa, I’ve decided: I want to live. And the person I want to live with, more than anyone else in the world, is you. I believe I am ready to make a commitment.

Oh, Melissa, please won’t you let that commitment be with you? Aaron

Aaron Spender

Senior Correspondent

New York Journal

To: Mel Fuller

From: George Sanchez

Subject: Tardiness

So, Dolly tells me you finally got in touch with the dog guy. That would explain why you were on time this morning for the first time in twenty-seven days.

Congratulations, kid. I’m proud of you.

Now if you’d just start handing in your copy on time I won’t have to fire you. But I guess I 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