Page 63 of One Fifth Avenue

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“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 on the coffee table and opened it up.

Sure enough, Philip came in a few minutes later, looked at her, saw what she was reading, and stiffened. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Where did you get that?” he said, standing over her.

“It was on your bookshelf,” she said innocently.

“Put it back,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because I’d like you to,” he said.

“Who are you? My father?” she asked teasingly, pleased to have gotten such a big reaction out of him.

He grabbed the magazine out of her hands. “This is off-limits,” he said.

“Are you embarrassed about it?”

“No.”

“Oh, I get it,” Lola said, narrowing her eyes. “You’re still in love with her.” She jumped up and ran into the bedroom and started pounding on a pillow.

“Lola, stop,” Philip said.

“How can you be in love with me when you’re still in love with her?” Lola shrieked.

“It was a long time ago. And I never said I was in love with you, Lola,” he said firmly, then immediately realized his mistake.

“So you’re not in love with me?” she asked, her voice rising in outrage.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t in love with you. I’m saying we’ve only known each other for two months.”

“More than that. Ten weeks. At least.”


Tags: Candace Bushnell Fiction