A/N (Jo): So I had this crazy idea over a year ago for an A/U story based around one of my favorite films 'You've Got Mail'. I thought it could work so well for Darvey. I never got around to starting it though until Aimee suggested we tackle it together as a collaboration. Of course, I jumped at the chance of writing with my talented friend, and so this story has been born. Each chapter will switch POV, and for the most part, I'm writing Donna, and Aimee will be bringing us Harvey! We have had so much fun planning this, and with the help of equally talented Stef, we now have the first chapter ready for you. If you enjoy it half as much as we have enjoyed creating / planning and writing it, we'll have done okay.
You've Got Mail
Chapter 1
~oOo~
Have you ever noticed how life is full of contradictions? I mean do actions speak louder than words or is the pen mightier than the sword? If many hands make light work, what about too many cooks spoiling the broth? Even the bible is rife with them. An eye for an eye? Or turn the other cheek? I've realized today that contradictory kind of sums up my feelings about New York. I bitch and moan about this city every damn day, but if I hear someone else bad-mouthing it, I'll drop-kick them Chuck Norris style quicker than you can say 'Hot Weiner'.
~ Theatergirl
~oOo~
Yes! Just this afternoon I received the most disapproving stare from a woman who was already long in the tooth when she pushed her way to the front of the line for a raft on the Titanic. I was simply minding my own business and moaning my way through several bites of my street-cart hotdog. I don't understand why some people find them so disturbing. Clearly, she wasn't American. Or at least not from the East Coast. But a moment later I was splashed with yesterday's rainwater by a maniac cabbie who nearly killed me and the rest of my walk was spent cursing this damn city.
~ NYC_901
~oOo~
God, I love the smell of books. Old or new. Fragrant flowers, expensive perfumes, and the smell of baking bread are great but for me, nothing tops the scent of printed paper in Barnes & Noble, the vanilla mixed with springtime rain on a dusty day aroma that hits you when you walk through the door of Quimby's Bookstore in Brooklyn, or the sweet woodsy smell of old books that waft up my nose every time I walk into the New York public library. Pure heaven!
~ Theatergirl
~oOo~
'Page powder'. That's what my grandmother called it when she read to me as a kid. It has a way of puffing up off the page and landing on your eyelids. If I'm completely honest, it usually puts me to sleep.
Still, it's a distant second to the smell of the dank felt inside the case of a brass instrument when it's finally cracked open after a longer than intended hiatus. Could make a grown man cry. Not speaking from experience, of course.
~ NYC_901
~oOo~
"Morning Abe, how's it hanging?"
"To the left, Miss Donna, always to the left." Abe tips his cap and gives her a wink. "You're looking mighty fine today if you don't mind me sayin'!"
Donna hands over her two dollars in exchange for the newspaper and awards the old man a beaming smile.
"A woman can never mind being told she looks fine by such a handsome gent." She returns his playful wink.
"You be careful there, Miss Donna. I'm taken for. Don't you let my Berneice hear you calling me handsome."
"I thought you said she was practically deaf."
"That she is, but the woman's got a sixth sense sharper than a serpent's tooth!"
Donna chuckles. They have a similar discourse most mornings on her way to work. She gives him a wave. "Have a good day, Abe. See you tomorrow."
"Not if I see you first!" he shouts after her as she walks away.
Donna has a spring in her step this morning. The sun is out, it's a warm autumn day, she's woken from the best night's sleep she's had in months and for the first time in far too long, she's simmering with a sense of optimism.
The last twelve months have not been easy. The business that she inherited from her Grandma, one she's loved, nurtured, basically poured her heart and soul into, has been under threat.
The Bobbie Byrne Theater company has been a mainstay of the West Village, NY, for over fifty years. Sandwiched between a sculpture art school and a Moroccan deli come coffee shop, the modest theater is little known, but much loved. Primarily producing plays, revues, and recitals from local writers and performers, it has a proud history, boasting many homegrown artists that have gone on to have successful careers.
Roberta Byrne, Donna's maternal grandmother, had a passion for the arts that knew no bounds. She first trod the boards as a teenager back in the early fifties and managed to make a steady living from it. However, she grew tired of playing the same stereotypical parts over and over again. As she grew older, her hopes that she would land more interesting roles, rapidly faded. 'Preppy cheerleader girl next door' simply transitioned into 'conservative fifties housewife'. Frustrated with the lack of good parts available for women, she decided that she would find the material herself. With the funds from a small inheritance, talented resources courtesy of the connections she'd made throughout her acting career, and sheer grit and determination despite the many obstacles thrown her way, Bobbie Byrne became the youngest woman to own and run a theater company in the city of New York.
So much of Donna's childhood was spent at that theater. She lived and breathed it. Passion for the arts seemingly skipped a generation, as her mother had little interest in it.
She spent every moment she could with her grandmother. Watching rehearsals, chatting with the costume designers, lighting operators, quizzing writers, directors, and performers. So much so that when tragedy struck as a teenager with the sudden death of her mother, Donna found herself there almost on a permanent basis. Her father was away working most days, and when he was home, he was grieving. He struggled to cope with raising a teenager on his own and it just made sense for her to live with Grandma Bobbie.
Despite losing her mother, and seeing less of her father, she still looks back on those years as some of her happiest. She idolized her grandmother, and it was a foregone conclusion for her that the moment she graduated from Juilliard, she'd join The Bobbie Byrne Theater company. She was lucky to enjoy several years as one of its leading stars.
When her grandmother passed away, it was with a heavy heart but also a deep sense of pride that she took over the running of the theater. She misses her grandmother desperately but keeping the theater running has given her a purpose. She loves the legacy left to her with a passion, and she loves the people she works with. Some of them volunteer part-time, some are paid employees, but they all share her passion for the productions the theater creates. She remains close to her father, but she's not ashamed to say that The Bobby Byrne Theater company is as much her family as he is.
However, a dark cloud has been looming these last twelve months. Times are hard, the after-effects of the recession are still being felt, and the Theater has not been immune. Most people have a less expendable income and visits to the theater tend to be one of the first casualties. Donna was forced to drop ticket prices, re-work old costumes and sets rather than commission new pieces, and as a result, she has just about managed to break even. It's not sustainable though, and that reality has been playing heavily on her mind. Added to that, whispers of a major real estate developer interested in the land in and around the theater for the construction of a big entertainment complex have been rumored for some time. Many of the local businesses, also hard hit by the economic slump, are excited at the prospect of taking a big fat check and selling up. Sadly, there are few, like Donna, that are appalled by the idea. Which means if the rumor becomes a reality, Donna won't have many fighting in her corner.
Still, it is just a rumor, and the reason she has a spring in her step this morning is that last night she'd finally received some good news. One of their old alumni, Stu Buzzini, a writer with oodles of talent who went on to write plays for Broadway, and also a majorly successful crime show for HBO has been in touch. He's written a short play that he's offering exclusively to the theater as a thank you for his time spent there. Not only was his early writing some of the best that Donna had the pleasure of staging in her time as owner, but his name attached to a new production would do wonders for ticket sales. It could very well give the much-needed boost the theater so desperately needs.
"Morning, guys!" Donna shouts as she swings the door open to the backstage office of the theater. It's a small but cozy space, the walls adorned with framed photos of the many productions the theater has produced over the last fifty-plus years. The furniture, which is old and well worn, consists of a couple of desks, a threadbare two-seater couch, and a gray battered filing cabinet. The office is filled with various paraphernalia - poster boards advertising past shows, various props, scripts, scraps of costume fabric, an old lighting rig that's needed fixing for several months, and all of it is guarded by none other than a life-size cardboard cutout of Agatha Christie.
The bizarre inanimate figure was something her Grandma had sourced and proudly displayed as a nod to the fact that Christie's play 'The Mousetrap' has the accolade of being the longest-running show in history. Nearly seventy years to be precise. A fact that Grandma Bobbie particularly enjoyed as it's a play written by a woman. It's for this reason alone that Donna has kept it, although if she's honest, the damn thing gives her the heebie-jeebies. Agatha's eyes follow her around the room and she wears a stern scowl. Donna can't help but feel that the legendary writer is constantly frowning in disapproval at everything she does, every decision she makes.
"Someone's bright and cheery this morning," comes a voice from behind Agatha's handbag.
"That's because I have exciting news."
The beautiful face of her best friend and colleague, Rachel, pops out from the side of Agatha.
"Really?" Her eyes shine brightly. "Oh my God. Have you discovered the identity of NYC_901, your mystery man? Has he finally dared to ask you out on a date? I was right wasn't I, he's a pediatrician… No, a vet working with rescue animals. Has he sent you a picture? He has, hasn't he? Please tell me he looks like Alexander Skarsgard!"
A snort comes from the other side of the room. "I bet he's actually twice your age, bald, has very few of his own teeth left, and when he's not playing dungeons and dragons online in his parent's basement or emailing you, of course, he's out committing murder on the streets of Brooklyn."
"Oh shush, Louis," Rachel scolds. "For the last time, he is NOT a serial killer! Besides, according to Donna, he lives in Manhattan."
"How do you know he's not lying, and he's just luring her in. Priming her as his next victim."
Donna rolls her eyes as her two closest friends continue to bicker. The mystery man they are arguing about, known only by his tag 'NYC_901', is someone that she has been corresponding with for the last six months. They met by chance on a forum dedicated to followers and fans of jazz music. They struck up a rapport and soon began conversing privately via email. They chat about anything and everything, from music, the weather, books, and sport to the idiosyncrasies of life in New York. They both agreed early on, not to reveal anything personal about themselves, so their names, careers, family members, and friends are taboo.
Yet, despite this, Donna feels deeply connected to 'NYC_901'. Their vague ramblings and whimsical musings have brought her much comfort and a kind of intimacy that she realizes has been lacking in her life. Part of her desperately wants to meet him. If he's even half the man that he comes across as being from their correspondence, he would be a dream come true.
But therein lies the rub. She's built him up in her mind's eye. Expectations are high, and she can't help but feel that meeting him would only result in disappointment and therefore ruin a relationship that whilst unconventional, means so much to her.
That doesn't seem to stop her friends from speculating about him though. Rachel, forever the optimist and a hopeless romantic, is convinced that NYC_901 is Donna's soulmate. Donna hasn't revealed much of what he's written, as she's territorial and protective of his words, but what little she has repeated has been enough to convince Rachel that the man is an adonis, hugely successful, romantic at heart and in need of a good woman. One particular red-headed woman who runs a little theater company, that is.
Louis, on the other hand, is much more skeptical and suspicious. A thespian to the core, he's often dramatic, over the top, and given to bouts of hysterics. He's been an actor and director in the theater group for over twenty years. Hired by her Grandma to play a minor role in a debut play, he stayed with the company ever since, becoming a firm friend of Bobbie's. He's high maintenance and a handful to deal with most of the time. But he is fiercely protective of Donna. He loves her dearly and the feeling is mutual.
"Stop, both of you!" Donna says before the bickering escalates into name-calling. "I don't know what he looks like or what he does for a living, but I'm pretty sure he's not spending his evenings on a killing spree. Anyway, my news has nothing to do with NYC_901."
Rachel deflates, looking disappointed.
Louis rises from his seat and clasps his hands together. "Pray tell then, young maiden. What tidings doth ye bring!"
"I had a call from Stu Buzzini last night."
"That traitor! What the hell does he want?" Louis scowls.
As someone who is incredibly loyal to The Bobbie Byrne Theater company, he's scornful of anyone who moves on from the company in a bid to further their careers. Louis' passion for acting and directing is greater than his actual talent in both fields. Not that he doesn't have some talent, but Donna suspects he realized very early on that the theater group would be the epitome of his career. As a result, he's supremely dedicated to the company and sharply derisive of anyone who leaves.
"Louis! He's not a traitor. He wrote some fabulous plays for us and rightly moved on to bigger and better things."
"Hmph. You mean he used us and abused us before leaving us for fame and fortune!"
Donna sighs. "No, I mean we nurtured his talent, made the most of it while he was here, he's now a huge success, and to thank us for giving him his first paying job, he has written a short play exclusively for us."
Rachel quickly glances at Louis who is still scowling, their eyes meet momentarily before she breaks into a smile. "Oh wow! Really? That's fantastic, Donna."
Donna nods excitedly. "He's popping in later with the script. It's a comedy, small cast, and I reckon, provided there are no major requirements in terms of set materials, etc. and we are able to start rehearsals quickly, we have every chance of staging the show in time for Christmas."
Another look passes between Louis and Rachel.
"Okay, that's the second time you've had a silent conversation with each other while I've been speaking. What gives?"
Rachel bites her lip and scratches her eyebrow. Louis' shoulders slump and his face crumples. Alarmingly, Donna thinks he looks like he's about to cry.
"You two are scaring me, what's happened? What's wrong?"
Louis lifts his hand to his mouth and swallows a gasp. "Tell her!" he chokes out.
Donna shifts her attention to Rachel who is looking increasingly pale. She points at the newspaper still tucked under Donna's arm. "I take it you've not looked at that yet."
Confused, Donna takes the paper and unfolds it. "No, why?"
"Turn to page five."
Donna frowns but does as instructed. Her eyes quickly scan the page until her gaze falls on a headline halfway down. Her stomach instantly flips.
Giannopoulos Construction One Step Nearer To New Development On Charles Street, West Village, After Scoring Crucial Legal Win
Donna looks up in alarm, already understanding the possible implications of that headline. Instead of reading on, she looks to her friends to clarify what it says.
"What legal win?"
Rachel clears her throat. "Apparently, a ruling has been made that the site Giannopoulos has targeted for demolition does not offer any significant historical value and does not need a protection order. The judge has basically given Giannopoulos's lawyers the green light to approach all the business owners and tenants to start negotiating offers for the buildings and land," she says, Donna's fear reflected in her eyes.
Donna inhales sharply. "Okay, well it's worrying, but maybe it won't affect us directly. I bet the land he covets is near the Hudson River, not this end of Charles Street."
Rachel swallows and shakes her head. "Letters have already begun to arrive. Si from Velvet Jacks across the street mentioned it to Louis last night."
Velvet Jacks is an edgy gay bar directly across the street from them, and also happens to be one of Louis' favorite haunts. Si and his partner Devlan run the bar as well as all the gossip within a one-mile radius.
Louis is nodding, his chin wobbling. "Si's really excited about it. He said he and Dev have had dreams of relocating the bar to Hell's Kitchen, but just couldn't afford it. A hefty check from Giannopoulos could provide them with the means."
"Well, I haven't received a letter. Maybe it's just their side of the street," Donna says desperately, clinging on to her last remnants of hope, but knowing deep down it's futile. "I mean, It will still hit us hard, no doubt. Demolition and construction in the immediate area of the theater won't be great for business, but this is New York. Everything changes constantly. We'll adapt, we'll seek compensation, we can…"
She trails off when she notices Louis holding an ominous A4-sized envelope in his hand with the name Miss Donna R Paulsen followed by Bobbie Byrne's Theater Co. clearly written across it.
"This came earlier. I had to sign for it," he says. "And before you ask, yes it's a letter from a law firm. Their name is embossed in the corner."
"Which law firm?"
Again her two friends exchange a look.
"Pearson Specter!" they say in unison.
Donna expels a sharp burst of air and slumps into her chair.
Her day had started out so well. Following the call from Stu last night and then an excellent night's sleep, she'd woken to a new email from NYC_901, which she'd enjoyed reading over breakfast. She'd been so positive, but she feels like the day is combusting into flames all around her.
Pearson Specter! God, how she hates that firm. She has a general dislike of corporate lawyers and their insidious ways out of principle. She's a compassionate human being after all. But her hatred of Pearson Specter is on another level and way more personal.
Last year, her father had the misfortune of tangling with them over a business deal he was involved in. Now, it would be fair to say that while Jim Paulsen is a sweet, loving, and kind man, he's not a great businessman. And unfortunately, there is a long history of failed business ventures behind him. That's not to say, he never provided for Donna financially. He did, but in recent years his debts had grown and his income diminished. Then the perfect deal came along, and it finally looked like success was within his grasp. Donna had helped him check over the financial details and was confident that her father had made a sensible move that was for once, well thought out. Once finalized, it would provide for him through his retirement.
Until that is, in the final hour, Pearson Specter stepped in on behalf of a third party and pulled the deal. It was over a technicality. A legal loophole. She didn't understand the details at first, but Rachel, who is currently in her final year of law school at Columbia, explained it to her. Apparently, with some incredibly clever maneuvering, Pearson Specter scored a massive win for their client but it pushed Jim out of the picture, and he lost everything. It was devastating.
"Oh Christ, not them."
"I'm afraid so," Rachel confirms, her tone somber.
Donna stares at the crisp white envelope and her worry and despair begins to morph into anger. She can feel it simmering in the pit of her stomach.
"Well those assholes can offer me the moon on a stick, but I won't sell this place. It's never going to happen."
"Damn straight, Sister!" Louis cries and he stamps his foot for emphasis.
A loud knock interrupts them and Harold, one of the lighting technicians, pokes his head around the door.
"Hi Donna, all the troupe are on stage running lines. We need Louis, if that's okay."
Donna leans back in her chair and nods. "Of course." She flashes a look at her two friends that warns them not to breathe a word.
"Well obviously, you need me," Louis says with a nonchalant flip of his hand. "Left in your pasty and uncultured hands, this current production would be the theatrical equivalent of committing seppuku!"
Harold looks utterly baffled. "Seppwhatnow?"
Louis growls. "Seppuku! Hara-kiri! The ritual suicide performed by ancient samurai. Hell's teeth, how and why do we employ such uncultured imbeciles?" He flounces towards a now cowering Harold.
Donna groans. "Louis! We don't employ him, Harold is a volunteer. He kindly donates his spare time helping us, so please don't talk to him like that."
Louis huffs loudly. He marches out of the office, his nose in the air, and muttering something under his breath about how Olivier never had to deal with such amateurs.
"You okay?" Rachel asks the moment they are alone, her head tilted as she looks at Donna with concern.
Donna picks up the envelope again and stares at it. "I have to be, Rach. Whatever bullshit offer is in here, I'm going to fight it. And if it really is as 'generous' as Si claims it is, I'm going to have to fight doubly hard to get others to turn it down too."
Rachel nods. "Well you know we've all got your back. You're not alone in this, Donna."
"I know. Thanks, Rachel."
"Why don't you come and join us out there?" Rachel suggests, nodding her head towards the door. "Spend a bit of time watching Louis terrorize the actors. Remind yourself of what it is you're fighting for," she adds with a grin.
Donna chuckles. "I will. I just want a bit of time alone here first, if that's okay."
"Sure thing," Rachel adds. "Remember, I've got class this afternoon. Wanna have lunch before I have to go?"
"Are you paying?"
"It's my turn, isn't it?"
"Then it's a date!"
Rachel gives her a thumbs up and a warm smile before leaving the office.
Pushing the envelope aside, Donna decides she'll tackle it later. Right now she needs a distraction from her worries and she opens up her laptop. She surfs the internet for a few minutes, looking up prices for printing firms. The company that produced their last programs and posters have hiked up their charges, and she's sure she can find better. It's not long before she gives up though. Everyone is hiking up charges.
She opens up her emails instead and starts sorting through invoices and queries. Two aspiring writers have sent in samples of their work, and there are a number of responses regarding the children's acting workshop day she's holding this coming weekend. After clearing most of the new items in her inbox, she clicks on the email she received this morning from NYC_901.
His words are always like a soothing balm to her. She scans through his last 'letter' to her. It might be an email, but she thinks of them as letters.
~oOo~
Do you ever just lay awake in the middle of the night and stare at the ceiling? Thinking completely random thoughts? Like the fact that we eat pizza from the inside out. Or
wondering if poison expires, is it more poisonous or no longer poisonous…
There is no good reason for it. You're tired. Exhausted, really. Yet, there you are.
Last night it was the realization that if I live to be 70 years old, I'll have spent 10 years of my life on a Monday. Talk about a depressing start to the week.
~ NYC_901
~oOo~
Donna is grinning from ear to ear. She looks at her watch. Despite Louis' histrionics, the troupe is quite safe in his hands, especially with Rachel watching over. She's got enough time to indulge in a quick response to NYC_901, and she knows doing so will make her feel better about her day. Flexing her fingers, and with a little shimmy in her seat, she begins typing.
~oOo~
Have you ever had one of those mornings, where you wake with the sun shining, and you feel that the day has endless possibilities? You're filled with positive vibes, certain that today is definitely going to be a great day!
Only, the sweet happy singalong record of your glorious morning suddenly and savagely scratches to a painful stop? The warm melody now replaced with the sound of tumbleweed and the chime of a funeral bell.
Well, that's how my morning went today.
Don't be alarmed. I'm fine. Today is just not turning out as I'd hoped thanks to a bottom feeder of the lowest variety. But have no fear, they will be dealt with swiftly and packed off forthwith.
~ Theatergirl
P.S. How I sleep is none of your business.
~oOo~
It's shorter than her normal responses, but she can hear raised voices coming from the stage and she knows she's needed. She quickly clicks send and sits back and sighs. She secretly hopes that by the time she's dealt with whatever crisis is happening with Louis and the troupe, there might be a response from NYC_901. Sometimes it can be a few days before she gets a reply from him, occasionally it's just a few hours.
As she's about to close her laptop, a ping sound heralds a new email. Her heart skips a beat when she realizes he's responded immediately.
Neither is the Yankees batting order, but it doesn't keep me from thinking about it. ;-)
~ NYC_901
Once again her heart stutters a little and she lets out a little gasp.
"Is he flirting?" she asks the empty room as she bites her lip. She looks up from her desk with a coy smile until she catches Agatha's beady eye. Her smile drops and she lifts her chin.
"Stop judging me!" she grumbles before quickly grabbing a bottle of water and striding from her office.