One Fifth Avenue - Candace Bushnell [120]
With Mindy Gooch, there was no possibility of jealousy. Lola only wanted to stab her with a fork. “I’d like my steak well done,” Mindy was saying to the waiter. “With steamed vegetables. Steamed, not sautéed. If I see butter, I’ll send it back.”
“Of course, ma’am,” the waiter said.
If I ever turn out like Mindy Gooch, I will kill myself, Lola thought.
Apparently, Mindy was like this all the time, because Philip and James were ignoring this exchange, caught up in their own one-upmanship. “What is the function of the artist in today’s society?” James was asking. “Sometimes I wonder if he really has a point anymore.”
“He?” Mindy interjected. “What about she?”
“He used to reflect man,” James continued. “The artist held up a mirror to society. He could show us the truth or inspire.”
“If it’s about reflecting society, we don’t need artists anymore,” Philip countered. “We have reality TV for that. And reality TV does it better.”
“Has anyone ever seen My Super Sweet 16?” Lola asked. “It’s really, really good.”
“I have,” James said.
“And what about The Hills?” Lola asked. “How great is that?”
“What the hell is The Hills?” Mindy grumbled. James caught Lola’s eye and smiled.
After the dinner, James found himself on the sidewalk outside the restaurant, alone with Lola. Mindy was in the bathroom, and Philip had run into some people he knew. Lola was buttoning her coat. James looked up and down the street, trying not to stare at her. “You must be cold,” he said.
“I don’t get cold,” she said.
“Really? My wife is always cold.”
“That’s too bad,” Lola said, not interested in discussing Mindy. “When does your book come out?”
“In six weeks. Exactly,” James said.
“You must be so excited. I can’t wait to read it.”
“Really?” James said in surprise, thinking about how interesting Lola was. Mindy was completely wrong. Lola wasn’t a little chippy at all. She was smart. “I could get you an advance copy,” he said.
“Sure,” she said with what James perceived as genuine enthusiasm.
“I can bring it upstairs. Tomorrow. Will you be home?”
“Come by at ten,” Lola said. “That’s when Philip goes to the gym. I’m always so bored in the mornings.”
“Ten o’clock,” James said. “Sure.”
She took a step closer. James saw that she was shivering. “Are you sure you’re not cold?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Maybe a little.”
“Take my scarf.” He unwound the striped woolen scarf he’d purchased from a street vendor. Glancing into the restaurant and seeing neither Mindy nor Philip, he tenderly placed the scarf around Lola’s neck. “That’s better,” he said. “You can give it back to me tomorrow.”
“I may not give it back at all,” she said, looking up at him. “It’s not every day a girl gets a scarf from a famous author.”
“There you are,” Mindy said, coming out the door with Philip behind her.
“Anyone want a nightcap?” James asked.
“I’m beat,” Mindy said. “It’s only Tuesday, and I’ve got a long week ahead of me.”
“Might be fun,” James said to Philip.
“I’m done, too,” Philip said. He took Lola’s arm. “Some other time, maybe.”
“Sure,” James said. He felt crushed.
Lola and Philip strolled home a few feet ahead of him and Mindy. Lola walked with youthful energy, tugging on Philip’s arm. Every now and then, she’d look up at Philip and laugh. James wished he knew what was entertaining her. He longed to stroll down the sidewalk with a girl, having fun. Instead, he had Mindy next to him. She was, he knew, freezing, refusing to wear a hat because it messed up her hair, walking silently with her shoulders hunched and her arms crossed against the cold. When they reached the lobby of One Fifth, Philip and Lola went right up in the elevator with vague murmurings of doing dinner sometime again in the future. Mindy went into the bedroom and changed into