One Fifth Avenue - Candace Bushnell [157]
“Thanks a lot.”
“You don’t expect me to fall in love with you, do you?” Lola would ask, screwing up her face in distaste, as if she’d just eaten something unpleasant.
“Who’s that young man I always see coming into the apartment?” Enid asked Lola one afternoon. She’d popped in to borrow a cartridge for her printer. She was always “borrowing” Philip’s office supplies, and Lola couldn’t understand why Enid didn’t go to Staples, like everyone else. “You know, you can order supplies online,” Lola said, crossing her arms.
“I know, dear. But this is much more fun,” Enid said, pawing through Philip’s stuff. “And you didn’t answer my question. About the young man.”
“Could be anyone,” Lola said nonchalantly. “What does he look like?”
“Tall? Very attractive? Reddish-blond hair and a disdainful expression?”
“Ah.” Lola nodded. “Thayer Core. He’s a friend of mine.”
“I assumed he was,” Enid said. “Otherwise, I can’t imagine why he’d be spending so much time in Philip’s apartment. Who is he, and what does he do?”
“He’s a gossip columnist. Just like you,” Lola said.
“For whom?”
“Snarker,” Lola said reluctantly. “But he’s going to be a novelist. Or run a TV network someday. He’s brilliant. Everyone says no matter what he does, he’s going to be big.”
“Ah, yes,” Enid said, finding the cartridge. “I know exactly who he is. Really, Lola.” She paused. “I’m a little worried about your judgment. You shouldn’t be allowing that type of person into Philip’s apartment. I’m not even sure you should be allowing him into the building.”
“He’s my friend,” Lola said. “I’m allowed to have friends, aren’t I?”
“I didn’t mean to interfere,” Enid said curtly. “I was only trying to give you some kind advice.”
“Thank you,” Lola said pointedly, following Enid to the door. When Enid had gone, Lola crept out into the hallway and examined the peephole in Enid’s door. Was she standing on the other side, watching? How much could the old lady see out of that little hole, anyway? Apparently, too much. Returning to Philip’s apartment—Philip’s and her apartment, Lola reminded herself—she concocted a little story to explain Thayer’s presence. Thayer was helping with her research for Philip. Meanwhile, she was helping Thayer with his novel. It was all perfectly innocent. Enid couldn’t actually see into the apartment, so how could she know what was going on?
Lola hadn’t meant to get so involved with Thayer Core. She knew it was dangerous but found she enjoyed the thrill of getting away with it. And being uncertain about her relationship with Philip, she justified her behavior by reminding herself that she needed a backup in case things with Philip didn’t work out. Admittedly, Thayer Core wasn’t much of a consolation prize, but he did know lots of people and claimed to have all kinds of connections.
But then Philip was coming home in a few days, and Lola warned Thayer that their time together had to end. Thayer was annoyed. Not because he wouldn’t be seeing Lola but because he so enjoyed spending time in One Fifth. He liked everything about it, and simply entering the building on Fifth Avenue made him feel superior. Before going in, he often looked around the sidewalk to see if anyone was watching, envying him his position. Then he’d pass by the doormen with a wave. “Going up to Philip Oakland’s,” he’d say, making a jerking motion with his thumb. The doormen regarded him with suspicion—Thayer could tell they didn’t like him and didn’t approve—but they didn’t stop him.
Dropping by Philip’s apartment that morning, Thayer suggested he and Lola look at some Internet porn. Lola was eating potato chips, crunching them obnoxiously just for the hell of it, Thayer thought. “Can’t,” she said. “Why not? You a prude?” Thayer said. “Nope. No Internet service. It’s all Paul Rice’s fault. That’s what everyone