One Fifth Avenue

Josh looked annoyed. “There’s hardly anything left.”

“So? Give it to me. I’ll get more later.”

“That’s what you said last night.”

“Give me a break. I had that obscene cocktail party at Cartier, where they wouldn’t let us in. Then some art party at the Whitney, where they wouldn’t let us in, either. Then the Box. Which was groovy. Full of hipsters. But no pot. Only coke. Dammit, Josh, come on. I need your stash.”

Josh reluctantly reached into his pocket and handed over a small bag of marijuana.

“You carry it with you? You’re such a skive,” Thayer said.

“I never know when I might need it.”

“Like now,” Thayer said.

“I’m going,” Lola said.

“Why?” Thayer asked. “I thought you wanted to hang out. You have someplace better to go? This is the best spot in Manhattan. Center of the universe here. Going to destroy Manhattan from this tiny rat-infested three-thousand-dollar-a-month shithole.”

“That’s nice,” Lola said.

Thayer handed her the bong, and she took a hit. She hadn’t meant to smoke marijuana, but it was there and she was there and she thought, Why not? Plus, Thayer irritated her in an intriguing sort of way. He didn’t seem to understand she was superior to him.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Thayer said.

“I’m pissed at him.”

“You see, Josh?” Thayer said. “All roads lead to me.”

Lola’s phone rang. She looked at the number. It was Philip. She hit ignore.

“Who was that?” Thayer asked.

“None of your business.”

Thayer took a hit from the bong. “Bet it was the boyfriend,” he said to Josh. “Bet he’s some boring premed student from the South.”

“He isn’t,” Lola said proudly. “He’s famous.”

“Oooooh, Joshie boy. Did you hear that? He’s famous. Nothing but the best for our Southern princess. Would I know him?” Thayer asked Lola.

“Of course,” she said. “Philip Oakland? The novelist?”

“That guy?” Thayer said. “Baby, he’s old.”

“Got to be over forty, at least,” Josh agreed.

“He’s a man,” Lola said.

“You hear that, Josh? He’s a man. And we’re not.”

“You’re certainly not,” Lola said to Thayer.

“Wha

t am I?”

“An asshole?” Lola said.