Goodnight Tweetheart Read online

  Most people floating around in cyberspace seemed to delight in blurting out even the most intimate details of their lives to complete strangers, including the GPS directions to their kid’s grade school and the results of their latest colonoscopy. But it seemed Mr. Baynard was perfectly content to remain a man of mystery.

  She started to do a Google search on his name but stopped with her fingers poised over the keys. Did she really want to spoil the memory of their silly little flirtation by finding out he wasn’t an English lit professor after all, but some sweaty, thick-necked hedge fund manager with three kids, two mortgages, and at least one ex-wife?

  According to the stats listed beside his profile pic, he was Following forty-three people and had thirty-two Followers of his own. Abby’s cursor hovered over the Follow icon. She didn’t suppose there could be any harm in accepting his invitation. According to Hillary, she was on Twitter to establish a rapport with her readers. And every person she met was a potential reader, right?

  Making up her mind, she gave the mouse a decisive click. She was now an official Follower of MarkBaynard. She logged off and closed the laptop, shaking her head at her own silliness.

  By Monday afternoon she probably would have forgotten all about him. Despite what she might have led him to believe, she had more important things to do with her time than waste it sparring with some snarky stranger on some silly social networking site. Like finishing Chapter Five of her novel in progress.

  Chapter Three

  Monday, April 25—3:01 P.M.

  MarkBaynard: So what are you wearing?

  Abby_Donovan: Coffee-stained sweats and the hat Audrey Hepburn wore to the races in MY FAIR LADY. You?

  MarkBaynard: Cary Grant’s tuxedo from INDISCREET and the rubber Ronald Reagan mask Patrick Swayze wore in POINT BREAK.

  Abby_Donovan: I’m crushed. I was so hoping for Lyndon Johnson.

  MarkBaynard: Are you ready for your first Twitter 101 lesson?

  Abby_Donovan: I’ve already fired up Van Halen’s “Hot for Teacher” on my iPod.

  MarkBaynard: Okay, the first thing you need to do is download one of the free browser apps like Tweetdeck or Tweetie to help you manage Twitter.

  Abby_Donovan: Is it that unruly? Should I also invest in a whip and a chair?

  MarkBaynard: Only if you get a leather corset and a pair of thigh-high boots to go along with them.

  Abby_Donovan: Has anyone ever told you that you think about sex way too much?

  MarkBaynard: Only the stripper sitting on my lap.

  Abby_Donovan: So why is Twitter something that needs to be “managed”?

  MarkBaynard: It’s for organization. So you can split your most important incoming tweets into columns labeled…for instance…MARK BAYNARD.

  Abby_Donovan: Or PEOPLE WHO AREN’T MARK BAYNARD.

  MarkBaynard: Ouch! With a tongue like that, you won’t be needing that whip. You can also have columns for your personal friends and your readers.

  Abby_Donovan: Or PEOPLE WHO HAVE ACTUALLY HEARD OF ABIGAIL DONOVAN?

  MarkBaynard: I’m guessing THE GRUDGE is one of your favorite films.

  Abby_Donovan: Right after THELMA AND LOUISE and BRIEF INTERVIEWS WITH HIDEOUS MEN. So will this app make posting my twits any easier?

  MarkBaynard: Wince! You don’t “twit.” You “tweet.”

  Abby_Donovan: Well, pardon me for being such an ignorant twit. Or would that be an ignorant tweet?

  MarkBaynard: Sigh…calling a tweet a “twit” is like ordering a “large” drink at Starbucks instead of a “Venti.” Your street cred may never recover.

  Abby_Donovan: I’m a middle-class white girl who grew up on various army bases. My only street cred consists of downloading BABY GOT BACK for my iPod.

  MarkBaynard: Well, you’re still pretty fly for a white chick. Which reminds me—you can also download Twitter for your CrackBerry or your iPhone.

  Abby_Donovan: Um …what if I don’t have a BlackBerry or iPhone?

  MarkBaynard: Where do you live? In a cave? Can you see Russia from your house?

  Abby_Donovan: No, but I can see some homeless guy urinating behind a bench in Central Park from my apartment window.

  MarkBaynard: The same bench you’ve apparently been sleeping on for the last three years? WITHOUT a BlackBerry or an iPhone?

  Abby_Donovan: Why would I need a smart phone? I’m a writer. Other than the daily emergency dash 2 Starbucks, it’s not as if I ever leave my apartment.

  MarkBaynard: If you did leave your apartment, an app would also make it possible for you to add photos of your travels to your tweets.

  Abby_Donovan: You want to see a pic of the homeless guy urinating behind the bench?

  MarkBaynard: This might be a good time to remind you that your Followers can see everything you say.

  Abby_Donovan: Um…maybe you should have mentioned that 3 twits—I mean 3 tweets—ago.

  MarkBaynard: And on the off chance that someone happens to be Following both of us, they’ll see our entire conversation.

  Abby_Donovan: Don’t they have anything better to do? Like watch ROCK OF LOVE: TOUR BUS or KEEPING UP WITH THE KARDASHIANS?

  MarkBaynard: If you want to take our conversation private, just hit the Direct Message button.

  Abby_Donovan: Like…THIS?

  MarkBaynard: That’s it. Now we’re both flying under the radar. On some apps like Tweetdeck, Direct messages will have an uppercase “D” in front of them.

  Abby_Donovan: I’m glad you told me that. I would have just assumed you were being an even bigger dick than usual.

  MarkBaynard: Is that even possible?

  Abby_Donovan: Now that you mention it…

  MarkBaynard: You also need to beware the Spam Bots.

  Abby_Donovan: Are they like the FemBots in the Austin Powers movies? Do they fire bullets from their bosoms?

  MarkBaynard: Try to think of them as malevolent R2D2s. If you mention a specific product in your tweets, they’ll immediately start Following you.

  Abby_Donovan: Is that why @mrsbutterworths is Following me? Because I tweeted that I made myself pancakes for breakfast this morning?

  MarkBaynard: Probably. But you should be able to outrun her because I don’t think she has any feet.

  Abby_Donovan: I don’t want to outrun her. I like hearing her voice in my head. It’s all warm and syrupy and delicious.

  MarkBaynard: And now the most important part of our lesson: There are two words you must never say on Twitter.

  Abby_Donovan: Aunt Jemima?

  MarkBaynard: Those two words are…Br*tney Spe*rs. Henceforth to be known as She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Mentioned.

  Abby_Donovan: What happens if I forget and mention her?

  MarkBaynard: You’ll be Followed by a Ukranian spammer whose profile pic is a photoshopped Br*tney performing an act still illegal in many states.

  Abby_Donovan: Is there a donkey involved?

  MarkBaynard: I didn’t say it was illegal in Tijuana.

  Abby_Donovan: So what should I do if the naughty Spam Bots track me down?

  MarkBaynard: There’s a wonderful little feature under Profile called the BLOCK button. Hit it &…poof! That Follower disappears from your life forever.

  Abby_Donovan: Sigh…wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could Block people in real life?

  MarkBaynard: The teenager in front of you driving, combing her hair and texting her BFF at the same time.

  Abby_Donovan: The barista who puts whipped cream on your frappuccino when you order a “Lite.”

  MarkBaynard: Your funny uncle who drank too much and hugged too hard. Wait…did I say that out loud?

  Abby_Donovan: So if you tick me off at any time, I can just Block you and make you disappear. Poof!

  MarkBaynard: Or you could simply Unfollow me, which means you wouldn’t see my tweets anymore, but I’d be left to pine longingly over yours.

  Abby_Donovan: “I’m sorry, Uncle Bobby. You can keep talking but I can’t hear you anymore because I U
nfollowed you.”

  MarkBaynard: Who told you my uncle’s name was Bobby?

  Abby_Donovan: Your therapist.

  MarkBaynard: #TherapistFail. Pay attention, Grasshopper. Now I will teach about the FAIL hashtag.

  Abby_Donovan: What’s a hashtag? It sounds like something you’d eat with ham and eggs.

  MarkBaynard: This is the legendary hashtag—#. Add FAIL to it & topple empires. (Or at least deeply embarrass the dry cleaner who lost your best suit.)

  Abby_Donovan: Example please?

  MarkBaynard: Like #EnronFail

  Abby_Donovan: Hmmm…or #TitanicFail?

  MarkBaynard: Or #NewCokeFail

  Abby_Donovan: Or #AnyMovieStarringPaulyShore(Except EncinoManBecauseItAlsoStarredBrendanFraserAndSean Astin)Fail?

  MarkBaynard: Or #MyFirstMarriageFail

  Abby_Donovan: I’m afraid to ask about your 2nd, 3rd, and 4th marriages.

  MarkBaynard: As long as Wives 2, 3, & 4 don’t run into each other at the supermarket, I think it’ll be a #Win for all four of us.

  Abby_Donovan: Isn’t microblogging just thinking out loud? What happens if I can’t finish a thought in 140 characters or less?

  MarkBaynard: Then you’re not clever or pithy enough to be on Twitter and you should go running back to Facebook to fertilize some imaginary crops.

  Abby_Donovan: Oh, I can be very pithy. Especially at certain times of the month. Oh wait … you said pithy, didn’t you?

  MarkBaynard: If you simply can’t resist the temptation to drone on and on, boring everyone within tweetshot to distraction, you can always use “…”

  MarkBaynard:…which means your Followers should continue to hang on your every word, no matter how tiresome, self-important or annoying because…

  MarkBaynard:…you’re not done droning on and on about yourself and your exceedingly dull pancake-laden, dumb-cellphone-toting life quite…

  MarkBaynard:…yet.

  MarkBaynard: BUT you must never forget the cardinal rule of Twitter—If you can’t say it in 140 characters, it’s probably not worth saying.

  Abby_Donovan: Ah, Twitter! Haiku for the semi-literate!

  MarkBaynard: That’s all for today, Grasshopper. I’m sorry, but I have to go now.

  Abby_Donovan: Did Commissioner Gordon just turn on the Bat-Signal?

  MarkBaynard: Something like that. Tune in tomorrow. Same Bat-Time. Same Bat-Channel.

  Abby_Donovan: Hooked on TV Land, are we?

  MarkBaynard: Nick at Nite was always my poison as a kid.

  Abby_Donovan: Goodnight John-Boy

  MarkBaynard: Goodnight Mary Ellen

  Abby_Donovan: Goodnight Daddy

  MarkBaynard: Goodnight Erin

  Abby_Donovan: Goodnight Jason

  MarkBaynard: Goodnight Elizabeth

  Abby_Donovan: Goodnight Ben

  MarkBaynard: Goodnight Grandma

  Abby_Donovan: Goodnight Jim-Bob

  MarkBaynard: Goodnight Tweetheart…

  Tuesday, April 26—3:00 P.M.

  MarkBaynard: What are you wearing?

  Abby_Donovan: Coffee-stained sweats and the jaunty beret Faye Dunaway wore in BONNIE AND CLYDE. You?

  MarkBaynard: Ricardo Montalban’s fake chest from STAR TREK 2: THE WRATH OF KHAN and Arnold Schwarzenegger’s shades from TERMINATOR.

  Abby_Donovan: I knew you’d be back!

  MarkBaynard: How could I resist? I just had to know how my star Twitter pupil was doing.

  Abby_Donovan: You’re going to be so proud of me! I downloaded Tweetdeck and learned how to post a pic. http://tweetpic.com/28251900

  MarkBaynard: What in the hell is that? A dustmop?

  Abby_Donovan: That’s my cat Buffy the Mouse Slayer.

  MarkBaynard: I naturally assumed your cat’s name would be Pebbles.

  Abby_Donovan: I actually have two cats.

  MarkBaynard: You should do a head count. Maybe Buffy ate the other cat.

  Abby_Donovan: Nope. Willow Tum-Tum is sitting right here in my lap, purring and gazing up at me in drunken adoration. http://tweetpic.com/282519061

  MarkBaynard: I used to do that to my wife until she took out the restraining order.

  Abby_Donovan: Willow lawyered up and got mine overturned. I knew I shouldn’t have let her watch so much LAW AND ORDER as a kitten.

  MarkBaynard: So is Willow Tum-Tum the secret love child of Biff the Bunny & Henry/Henrietta Hedgehog?

  Abby_Donovan: Her name was just Willow, but she loves to have her stomach rubbed so that devolved into an embarrassing ritual called “Tum-Tum Alert!”

  MarkBaynard: Embarrassing for you or for her?

  Abby_Donovan: Both. Willow Tum-Tum isn’t the only one who adores me. Did you notice I picked up another 42 Followers today?

  MarkBaynard: Or as you probably prefer to think of them—fawning sycophants.

  Abby_Donovan: Or “people with impeccable taste who have actually read and loved my book.”

  MarkBaynard: Ouch! You’re relentless, woman! I promise to download it to my e-reader as soon as I finish the new Paris Hilton autobiography.

  Abby_Donovan: Don’t.

  MarkBaynard: Now you’re just being a tease.

  Abby_Donovan: No. I’m serious. I don’t want you to read it. I don’t even want you to go to my website.

  MarkBaynard: Why not? Too many pics of your head photoshopped onto Angelina Jolie’s naked body?

  Abby_Donovan: For the past 4 years, the only reason anyone has wanted to talk to me is because I’m “Abigail Donovan, the author.”

  MarkBaynard: As opposed to “Abigail Donovan, the Luddite with no iPhone or BlackBerry”?

  Abby_Donovan: What I’m trying to say is that it’s kind of nice to have someone talk to me because I’m me. Just Abby.

  MarkBaynard: And Willow Tum-Tum’s mommy.

  Abby_Donovan: Don’t forget Buffy the Mouse Slayer. She’s very sensitive and she’s listening.

  MarkBaynard: Yeah, I wouldn’t want her to eat me.

  Abby_Donovan: So I’ve sent you a pic. Why don’t you send me one?

  MarkBaynard: I don’t have a cat.

  Abby_Donovan: I can see that you’re tweeting from your iPhone today. Why don’t you send me a pic of what you’re looking at this very moment?

  MarkBaynard: Sure. Hang on…give me a minute.

  MarkBaynard: Okay…you still there? Here’s the view from where I’m sitting. http://twitphoto.com/MB7sta

  MarkBaynard: Abby?

  MarkBaynard: Abby, are you still there?

  Abby_Donovan: Um, Mark…that’s the Eiffel Tower. Are you in Las Vegas at the Paris casino by any chance?

  MarkBaynard: Not exactly.

  Abby_Donovan: You’re in Paris? You’ve been in Paris all this time??? PARIS FREAKING FRANCE???

  MarkBaynard: I told you I was an English lit professor on sabbatical traveling the world and writing the Mediocre American Novel.

  Abby_Donovan: I thought you were kidding about the traveling the world part.

  MarkBaynard: Didn’t I sound serious?

  Abby_Donovan: You never sound serious.

  MarkBaynard: It’s a curse I share with David Letterman, Groucho Marx, and George W. Bush.

  Abby_Donovan: Wistful sigh…I’ve always wanted to go to Paris. Tell me exactly what you’re doing at this very moment.

  MarkBaynard: Sending you a tweet.

  Abby_Donovan: You know what I mean!

  MarkBaynard: Sitting outside a cafe called Boulangerie Patisserie, sipping a tiny cup of espresso so dark and thick I won’t sleep for a week.

  Abby_Donovan: Oh, I can almost taste the bitterness of the coffee grounds on my tongue!

  MarkBaynard: I’m also watching exceedingly thin women in desperate need of a Supersized Big Mac Combo Meal parade past on the busy sidewalk.

  Abby_Donovan: Oh, I can almost feel the hunger pangs of the women!

  MarkBaynard: If I light a cigarette, will it make you cough?

  Abby_Donovan: Do you smoke?
/>   MarkBaynard: No. But it’s never too late to start. Especially when you’re in France.

  Abby_Donovan: How long will you be there? In Paris Freaking France?

  MarkBaynard: Only one more day. I’m leaving for the Loire Valley tomorrow.

  Abby_Donovan: Moan…the Loire Valley? Where they keep the chauteaux and the wine?

  MarkBaynard: I’ll be traveling through the Loire Valley for a week or two, then on to Tuscany and Florence.

  Abbey: Florence, Italy?!

  MarkBaynard: Florence, Alabama. But seriously (I said that so you’d know I was being serious), I’m spending time in Italy before heading for Ireland.

  Abby_Donovan: Sob! I’m going to Starbucks tomorrow. Then on to the gym and the dry cleaner.

  MarkBaynard: Will you send me a pic from there?

  Abby_Donovan: Yes. I’ll be the blue woman with the plastic bag wrapped around her head.

  MarkBaynard: Is this a bad time to ask you how the writing went today?

  Abby_Donovan: Pretty much the same way it went yesterday. I’m still stuck on Chapter Five.

  MarkBaynard: If you won’t let me read your first book, you can at least tell me about it.

  Abby_Donovan: Not much to tell. It was called TIME OUT OF MIND. It’s a novel about a young girl growing up with a bipolar mother.

  MarkBaynard: A comedy, eh?

  Abby_Donovan: I like to think it made the readers laugh & cry.

  MarkBaynard: Tell me the first sentence.

  Abby_Donovan: You think I’m egotistical enough to have the first sentence of my first book memorized?

  MarkBaynard: You’re a writer, aren’t you?

  Abby_Donovan: “Even as a girl my mom had a crooked smile, as if she couldn’t quite decide whether she wanted to be manic or depressive.”

  Abby_Donovan: Mark? Did you doze off?

  MarkBaynard: I thought you said the book was a novel, not a memoir.

  Abby_Donovan: How did you know I wrote that about my own mom?

  MarkBaynard: Built-in bullshit detector. Only it works the opposite way. I can tell when someone is pretending to lie.

  Abby_Donovan: Well, there are elements of truth in all great fiction, don’t you think?

  MarkBaynard: And elements of fiction in all great truths. Is your mom still alive?