They rode down to the lobby without speaking, which was fine by Thayer. His head was full of ideas, and he didn’t want to lose them by talking. In the past thirty minutes, he’d gleaned enough interesting material for several blog items. One Fifth was a hotbed of intrigue; perhaps he might create an entire series dedicated to the goings-on in the building. He could call it “The Co-op.” Or perhaps “The Lives of the Rich and Privileged.”

“Goodbye,” Enid said firmly when the elevator doors opened into the lobby. Thayer nodded at her and hurried out. All he needed to continue his attack on the residents of One Fifth was a steady supply of information. He turned over the script in his hand and smiled. It was the first draft of a screenplay by Philip Oakland with a working title of “Bloody Mary.” Philip Oakland would be furious if he discovered Lola had allowed an unfinished script to get out. And it wouldn’t get out as long as Lola was a good girl and played along. From now on, Thayer decided, Lola could come to his apartment. She would keep him up to date on the goings-on in One Fifth, and when she was finished talking, she could give him a blow job.

Enid rang Mindy’s bell. The door was opened by Sam, who had changed his mind about going to school, claiming he was sick. He led Enid into the tiny living room, where the three members of the board were engaged in a fierce discussion about Paul Rice.

“Can’t we force him to allow Time Warner into his apartment?”

“Of course. It’s the same as a handyman. And it’s affecting the other residents. But if he refuses, we have to get a letter from the building’s attorney.”

“Has anyone tried to talk to him?”

“We all have,” Enid said. “He’s impossible.”

“What about the wife? Maybe someone should talk to his wife.”

“I’ll try again,” Enid said.

On the other side of the wall, Sam Gooch lay on his bed, pretending to read his mother’s New Yorker. He’d left his door open so he could overhear the conversation. He looked up at the ceiling, feeling extremely pleased with himself. True, his actions had caused a great deal of trouble for everyone in the building, and he was scared to death of being found out, but it was worth it to get even with Paul. Sam guessed Paul would not be harassing anyone anymore, especially his mother. He would never say anything to Paul, but when they passed in the lobby, he would give Paul a certain look, and Paul would know Sam had been responsible.

Hopefully, he’d never be able to prove it.

A few minutes later, Enid knocked on the Rices’ door. Maria, the housekeeper, opened it a crack and said through the tiny slit, “No visitors.”

Enid stuck her fingers in the crack. “Don’t be silly. I need to see Mrs.

Rice.”

“Enid?” Annalisa called out. She stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind her. “This is not our fault.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Enid said.

“It’s because everyone hates Paul.”

“A co-op is like a private club,” Enid said. “Especially in a building like One Fifth. You may not necessarily like all the other members, but you do have to get along with them. Otherwise, it tears the whole building apart. Word gets out that it’s not such a great building, and then everyone’s real estate goes down. And no one likes that, my dear.”

Annalisa looked down at her hands.

“There is an unspoken code of behavior. For instance, residents must strive to avoid unpleasant encounters. We can’t have neighbors insulting each other. Yes, One Fifth is a fancy apartment building. But it’s also people’s homes. It’s their sanctuary. And without the security of that sanctuary, people become angry. I’m afraid for you and Paul. Afraid of what will happen if you don’t allow the repairman from Time Warner into your apartment.”

“He’s already here,” Annalisa said.

“Ah,” Enid replied, taken aback.

“He’s by the service entrance. Perhaps you’d like to talk to him.”

“Yes, I would,” Enid said.

She followed Annalisa through the door that led to the stairwell. The repairman held several cables in his hand. “They’ve been cut,” he said grimly.

“Hey, Roberto,” Philip Oakland said, coming into One Fifth with his suitcase. “How’s it going?”

“Been crazy around here,” Roberto said, and laughed. “You missed a lot.”

“Really?” Philip said. “Like what?”

“Big scandal. With the billionaire. Paul Rice. But your aunt took care of it.”

“Ah, yes,” Philip said, waiting for the elevator. “She always does.”

“And then it turned out that someone cut the cables outside the billionaire’s apartment. No one knows who did it. Then the billionaire called the police. Big scene between Mindy Gooch and Paul Rice. Those two really hate each other. So Paul Rice is making the co-op pay for cameras in the stairwells. And there was nothing Mrs. Gooch could do about it.

Man, that lady was mad. And Mrs. Rice won’t talk to anyone. The housekeeper calls ahead when she’s coming down, and we have to motion to the driver to bring the car around. No one’s mad at them, though, because someone did cut their wires, and Paul Rice gave the doormen a thousand bucks each to protect his wife. But now everyone who comes into the building, even the dry cleaner, has to register at the front desk and show ID. And if they don’t have ID, the residents have to come down and get them. It’s like a prison in here. Thing is, some people think it was your girlfriend’s friend that did it.”

“What?” Philip said. He jabbed the button for the elevator.

“That won’t make it come any faster.” Roberto laughed again.

Philip got into the elevator and punched the button for the thirteenth floor three times. What the hell was going on?

In Los Angeles, he’d gone right to work on the revisions for Bridesmaids Revisited. For the first couple of days, he’d put Lola out of his mind. She’d called him ten times, but he hadn’t returned the calls. On his third evening in L.A., he’d phoned her back, thinking she would still be at her mother’s house. She wasn’t. She was in New York in his apartment. “Lola, we have to discuss this,” he said.

“But I’ve already moved in. I thought that was the plan. I unpacked all my stuff. I only took a small corner of the closet in the bedroom, and I put some of your things in your storage locker in the basement. I hope you don’t mind,” she’d said, as if suddenly realizing he might.

“Lola, it’s just not a good idea.”

“What isn’t? You asked me to move in with you, Philip. In Mustique.

If you’re saying you don’t love me anymore ...” She’d started crying.

Philip had buckled under her tears. “I didn’t mean that. I do care for you, Lola. It’s just that...”

“How can you say you care about me when you’re trying to tell me you don’t want me around? Fine. I’ll leave. I’ll go live on the street.”

“Lola, you don’t have to live on the street.”

“I’m twenty-two years old,” she’d said, sobbing. “You seduced me and made me fall in love with you. And now you’re ruining my life.”

“Lola, stop. Everything is going to be okay.”

“So do you love me?”

“We’ll discuss it when I get back,” he’d said resignedly.

“I know you’re not ready to say it yet. But you will,” she chirped. “It’s just an adjustment period. Oh, I almost forgot — your friend Schiffer Diamond is dating some guy named Derek Brumminger. It was in the Post.

And then I saw them together, leaving the building in the morning. He’s not very attractive. He’s old and he’s got bad skin. You’d think a movie star could do better, but maybe she can’t. She’s not so young anymore, either.”

For a moment, Philip had been silent.

“Hello? Hello?” Lola had said. “Are you there?”

So she’s gone back to Brumminger, he’d thought. After telling him to get rid of Lola. Why had he thought she’d changed?

“Lola,” he said now, going into his apartment. “What’s this business about your friend?”

He looked around. Lola wasn’t home. He put his suitcase on the bed and knocked on his aunt’s door.

Lola was with Enid. “Philip! You’re home,” Lola said, throwing her arms around him. He patted her on the back and looked at his aunt, who smiled and rolled her eyes. Lola went on, “Enid was showing me her gardening books. I’m going to fix up your terrace this spring. Enid says I can make tulip boxes. And then we can have cut flowers.”

“Hello, Philip, dear,” Enid said, slowly getting up from the couch. Not having seen her for two weeks, Philip realized she was getting old. Someday he would lose her, and then he’d truly be alone. The thought changed his mood: He was happy he still had his aunt, and that Lola was still living in his apartment, and that Enid and Lola were getting along. Perhaps it would work out after all.

“I want to show you what I did in the kitchen,” Lola said eagerly.

“You were in the kitchen?” he asked in mock surprise. He followed her back to his apartment, where she showed off her handiwork. She had rearranged the contents of his kitchen cabinets so he no longer knew where anything was.

“Why did you do this?” he asked, opening the cabinet that had once held coffee and condiments but now contained a stack of plates.

She looked crushed. “I thought you’d like it.”

“I do. It’s better,” he lied, looking carefully around the apartment and wondering what else she’d disturbed. In the bedroom, he cautiously opened the closet. Half his clothes — the jackets and shirts that had hung in an orderly fashion for years — were missing; in their place, Lola’s clothing hung haphazardly, dangling from his hangers like Christmas ornaments.