One Fifth Avenue - Candace Bushnell [87]
“Yes,” Lola said loudly, over the music. “I was with my boyfriend, Philip Oakland.”
“I love Nicole.” The girl sighed.
“Do you know her?” Lola asked.
“I’ve known her my whole life. She came to my third birthday party.” Francesca took Lola into the bathroom, and they put on lipstick. The bathroom smelled of damp towels and vomit. “Philip Oakland is cool,” Francesca said. “How’d you meet him?”
“I’m his researcher,” Lola said.
“I dated my teacher when I was sixteen. I love older men.”
“Me, too,” Lola said, glancing out at Thayer and Josh, who were pretending to box each other. She rolled her eyes and decided she’d tortured Philip long enough. “I have to go,” she said.
When she got back to One Fifth, she found Philip in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of wine. “Kitty,” he exclaimed. He put down the glass and immediately gave her a hug, then he tried to make out with her and put his hand on her breast. She stiffened and pulled away. “What’s wrong?” he said. “I tried to call you.”
“I was busy.”
“Really?” he asked, as if surprised that she might have something else to do. “Where were you?”
She shrugged. “With friends.” She took out a glass and poured herself some wine, taking the glass with her into the bedroom.
He waited a beat and then followed her. “Kitty?” he said, sitting next to her on the bed. “What are you doing?”
“Reading Star magazine.”
“You don’t have to be pissed off,” he said, trying to pull the magazine away.
“Stop it,” she said, swatting at his hand and pretending to concentrate on an ad for Halloween costumes. “I have to figure out what I should be for Halloween.” She paused. “I could be Lindsay Lohan or Paris Hilton, but then I don’t know what you would be. Or I could be a dominatrix. Then you could be a businessman, like that guy who lives in the penthouse. The one you hate.”
“Paul Rice?” Philip said. “A scumbag hedge-fund guy? Lola.” He stroked her leg. “I will do nearly anything for you. But I will not dress up for a child’s holiday.”
She sat up and glared at him. “It’s Halloween,” she said pointedly, as if the subject wasn’t open for discussion. “I want to go to parties. That’s what people do on Halloween. It’s the biggest holiday of the year.”
“Tell you what,” Philip said. “You can dress up however you want for me. We’ll stay home and have our own Halloween.”
“No,” Lola said. “What’s the point of dressing up if no one sees you?”
“I’ll see you,” Philip said. “Am I no one?”
Lola looked away. “I want to go out. There’s a Halloween party at the Bowery Hotel. This guy Thayer Core told me about it.”
“Who’s Thayer Core?”
“He’s this kid who works for Snarker.”
“What’s Snarker?” Philip asked.
Lola sighed dramatically and jumped off the bed, throwing down the magazine. She went into the bathroom. “How come we never do what I want to do? Why do we always have to go out with your friends?”
“My friends happen to be very interesting,” Philip said. “But it’s okay. If you want to go to this Halloween party, we’ll go.”
“Will you dress up?”
“No,” he said.
“Then I’ll go by myself.”
“Fine,” he said, and went out of the room. What was he doing, playing this game? He was too old for this, he decided. He picked up the phone and called the director of Bridesmaids Revisited, who happened to be home, and got into a discussion with him about the film.
A few minutes later, Lola came into his office and stood in front of him with her arms crossed. Philip looked at her, looked away, and went back to his conversation. Lola went into the living room, steaming. Trying to think of a way to push his buttons, she remembered the spread of him and Schiffer Diamond in Vogue magazine. Removing the magazine from the shelf, she banged it down noisily