One Fifth Avenue - Candace Bushnell [56]
But the tabloids were dull that week—no major celebrities had gone to rehab or gained (or lost) several pounds or stolen someone’s husband—and Lola tossed the magazines aside, bored. Looking around Philip’s apartment, she realized that with Philip gone, there was something much more interesting to do: snoop.
She headed for the wall of bookcases. Three entire shelves were taken up with Philip’s first book, Summer Morning, in various editions and languages. Another shelf consisted of hardcover first editions of the classics; Philip had told her that he collected them and had paid as much as five thousand dollars for a first edition of The Great Gatsby, which Lola thought was crazy. On the bottom shelf was a collection of old newspapers and magazines. Lola picked up a copy of The New York Review of Books dated February 1992. She flipped through the pages until she came upon a review of Philip’s book Dark Star. Boring, she thought, and put it back. On the bottom of the pile, she spied an old copy of Vogue magazine. She pulled it out and looked at the cover. September 1989. One of the headlines read: THE NEW POWER COUPLES. What was Philip doing with an old copy of Vogue? she wondered, and opened it up to find out.
Turning to the middle of the magazine, she found the answer. There was a ten-page spread of a much younger Philip and an even younger-looking Schiffer Diamond, standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, feeding each other croissants at a sidewalk café, strolling down a Paris street in a ballgown and a tux. The headline read: LOVE IN THE SPRINGTIME: OSCAR-WINNING ACTRESS SCHIFFER DIAMOND AND PULITZER PRIZE–WINNING AUTHOR PHILIP OAKLAND SHOW OFF THE NEW PARIS COLLECTIONS.
Lola took the magazine to the couch and studied the pictures more carefully. She’d had no idea Philip Oakland and Schiffer Diamond had once been together, and she was filled with jealousy. In the past week, she’d felt moments of attraction to Philip but had always hesitated because of his age. He was twenty years older. And while he looked younger and was in good shape—he went to the gym every morning—and there were tons of young women who married older celebrities—look at Billy Joel’s wife—Lola still worried that if she “went there” with Philip, she might get a nasty surprise. What if he had age spots? Or couldn’t get it up?
But as she flipped through the photo spread in Vogue, her estimation of him rose, and she began calculating how to seduce him.
At five P. M., Philip left the library and walked back to One Fifth. Lola should be gone, he figured, and another day would have passed during which he had managed not to attempt to sleep with the girl. He was attracted to her, which he couldn’t help, being a man. And she seemed to be attracted to him, judging by the way she looked at him through a strand of hair she was always twisting in front of her face, as if she were shy. But she was a little young even for him and, despite her knowledge of everything celebrity and Internet, not very worldly. So far, nothing much had happened to her in life, and she was a bit immature.
Riding the elevator to his floor, he had an inspiration and hit the button for nine. There were six apartments on this floor, and Schiffer’s was at the end. He walked down the hallway, reminded of the many times he’d been here at all hours of the day and night. He rang her bell and then rattled the door handle. Nothing. She wasn’t home, of course. She was never home.
He went upstairs