Every Boy's Got One (2 page)
Read Every Boy's Got One Online
Authors: Meg Cabot
Tags: #Romance, #Humorous, #General, #Contemporary, #Fiction
To: Cal Langdon
Fr: Tara Samuels
Re: Travel Services
I’m SO sorry, Mr. Langdon, we were in a budget meeting, which is why no one picked up. I’ve been calling the airline ever since I got back, and they’re booked solid. I could get you in business class on another flight… but not until tomorrow. Would that be all right?
Again, I’m so sorry about the misunderstanding. I can’t imagine how you ended up in coach. We ALWAYS book you in business class, as you know. Except of course when the plane you’re taking is so small, there isn’t a business class. Which isn’t the case here. I can’t apologize enough, really. Could we upgrade you to a suite when you get to your hotel?
Tara
To: Cal Langdon
Fr: Dolly Vargas
Re: Last night
There you are! I’ve only left ten messages on your cell phone. How COULD you have snuck out like that this morning, without even leaving a note?
And Peter and I aren’t
married
, sweetie. We have an understanding—the same one you and I have.
And of
course
I wasn’t asking you to move in permanently. Just offering you the spare guest room until you find a place of your own. I know how brutal the New York real-estate market can be.
Not that you’ll have any problems, the way sales are going for
Sweeping Sands
. In fact, the penthouse across from mine just went up for sale, a steal at two million. Interested? I could speak to the co-op board on your behalf….
In any case, darling, call me when you get back from Mark’s little elopement.
XXXOOO
Dolly
Travel Diary ofHolly Caputo and Mark LevineJane Harris
OK, I asked Cell Phone Guy to watch my stuff for a minute while I ran to buy snacks, and he was TOTALLY rude about it. He said, in this very snarky way, “I highly doubt anyone is going to steal your
water
, miss.”
!!!!!
Which wasn’t even what I was asking him to watch. My water, I mean. Clearly, I meant my BAG. I mean, the last thing I need is for the airport to blow up my stuff because I left it unattended.
Whatever. It’s just like Malcolm says. Some people just suck, and there’s nothing you can do about it. I should have known Cell Phone Guy was one of them. Especially the way he keeps banging at the keyboard of that Blackberry. He’s still at it. How can someone so anal retentive look so good in a pair of jeans? I don’t get it. I mean, evolutionarily speaking, his kind should have been wiped out a long time ago. Because who’d want to mate with someone with THAT kind of attitude?
OOOOOOH, I see Holly!!!! Holly and Mark are here, at last! YAY!
I wonder where Mark’s friend Cal is. The best man, I mean. We were all supposed to meet at the gate….
To: Mark Levine
Fr: Cal Langdon
Re: Where are you?
I’m at the gate. I don’t see you. You didn’t take my advice and cancel the thing at the last minute, did you?
Forget it, you’re not the leave-em-at-the-altar type.
So. Nervous yet? I’ve got the flask, don’t worry. We’re going to need it, too, there’s a real nut job on this flight. Apparently she thinks there’s a possibility we might crash land in the Sahara.
Hurry up and get here, I want to kiss the bride—
Oh, there you are.
Cal
Travel Diary of
Oh my God.
Cell Phone Guy is Cal.
Cal Langdon
, Mark’s best buddy since elementary school, the one who’s been traveling all around the world for the
Journal
, writing about social unrest and economic instability for the past ten years. The one with the new book that’s just out—the one he supposedly got this huge advance for.
I wish I were on that plane that’s stuck in the San Francisco airport instead of on this one. I would rather have a deadly virus than have to spend a minute more in the company of Cal Langdon, aka Cell Phone Guy, aka Mark Levine’s Best Friend.
Oh, but guess what? HE’S SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO ME. That’s what he was so mad about before. He was calling Travel Services at the
Journal
, trying to get them to change his seat so he could sit in business class, or at least on the aisle, and not in the middle, like he is now.
Ha ha. Ha ha, Cal In the Middle. Hope you like bumping your elbow into mine every five seconds, Mr. I-Highly-Doubt-Anyone-Is-Going-To-Steal-Your-Water,-Miss. Because I am SO not giving up my aisle seat. No way.
And don’t expect me to share my water with you, either. OR my Toblerone. Or my cheese popcorn. I don’t care how long we’re stuck on this runway, or what kind of virus might get into the ventilation system. You’re getting nada from me, mister.
I’m not telling Holly how much I hate her husband’s best man, though. I don’t want to spoil this special time for her.
I am so not going to be able to give them this travel diary as a wedding gift. Oh well. It’s probably just as well, since my handwriting is barely legible, thanks to the Armrest Nazi next to me. Excuse me, Mr. I’m-So-Big-I-Need-To-Take-Up-Your-Space-Too. Could you please move your stupid hairy arm with the stupid waterproof watch that tells the altitude and the exact time on all seven continents which I know you so need, being such a fancy world traveler who knows so much about foreign policy and things a poor little cartoonist like me couldn’t even begin to understand?
I’ll tell you one thing: if this is a setup, Holly is dead. I mean, I know she doesn’t like Malcolm, but could she seriously, even for one second, entertain the idea that I might like Mister Nothing-Comes-Between-Me-And-My-Blackberry here? Please! He asked me what I do for a living (he was so just making conversation because Holly and Mark are seated right behind us, and he didn’t want to look like the Uptight Anal Retentive Control Freak he really is in front of them), and when I said I was a cartoonist, he was like, “You’re kidding.”
Totally deadpan. You’re kidding.
And get this: he’s never heard of Wondercat.
Never. Heard. Of. Wonder. Cat.
He has to be lying. He
writes
for the paper in which Wondercat was born.
And ok, he’s abroad all the time, and you can’t get the
Journal
everywhere. But doesn’t he watch
television
? He may have been gallivanting all around the world for the past decade, but excuse me, he’s back now, promoting his stupid book. Hasn’t he seen Wondercat’s commercial for energy-saving products on New York One? Everyone watches New York One, if only to check the temperature.
My God. Who is this guy? And why does Mark even
like
him????
I think I’m going to have to have a word with Holly. Does she know what she’s getting herself into, marrying a man who’d be best friends with a guy who doesn’t watch TV????
To: Mark Levine
Fr: Cal Langdon
Re: I’m going to kill you
What in hell is a Wondercat?
Cal
To: Cal Langdon
Fr: Mark Levine
Re: I’m going to kill you
Excuse me. I don’t believe you are allowed to use these things on planes.
Mark
PS You didn’t
tell
her you didn’t know who Wondercat is, did you?
To: Mark Levine
Fr: Cal Langdon
Re: I’m going to kill you
You can’t use them while you’re in the air, according to the FAA— although I doubt the veracity of this, as I’ve left mine on plenty of times and none of my flights have ever plummeted into the sea because of it.
You can, however, still legally use them when you’re sitting uselessly on the tarmac while the air control tower guys are having a limbo contest, as they are apparently doing right now because I can see no other conceivable reason why we’re not being allowed to take off.
And yes, I did ask her what a Wondercat was. Is that why she is busy scribbling into the travel diary she bought at the duty free? Because I offended her so deeply with my lack of knowledge about her cat?
Cal
