The Follower Read online

  Andy was looking at the brown-haired girl, but she wasn’t noticing him, or at least wasn’t acting like she did. A train pulled into the station and Andy boarded directly behind her. He followed her to the middle of the car and gripped the same pole she was holding, their hands inches apart. She was staring up ahead, as if she were reading the START AN EXCITING CAREER AS A DENTAL ASSISTANT ad over and over again. Man, she was even better-looking than Andy had thought. She had big green eyes, nice lips, and no zits. Andy always told his friends that the best place to meet girls was the subway because the fluorescent light was so unforgiving. If a girl looked good on the 6 train, she’d look good anywhere.

  At the next stop, Fifty-ninth Street, the girl shifted her attention away from the ad toward Andy.

  “Hi,” Andy said.

  “Hi” was by far the best pickup line, much better than, “Have we met?”

  The girl hesitated, then smiled and said, “Hi,” and looked away again. Andy knew he had his opening; it was just a matter of delivering the perfect follow-up.

  People exited and entered the train, and Andy and the girl were squeezed even closer together. The train started moving and Andy waited for the girl to look at him again, and then he said, “Now I know what sardines feel like.”

  “What?” the girl asked.

  The line wasn’t that funny and he wished he’d said something else. He knew it would sound even less funny when he repeated it, but he did anyway.

  The girl smiled and laughed a little, but Andy wasn’t sure that she’d even heard him over the noise of the subway. Andy was trying to think of some other clever thing to say, but then the girl moved away toward the door and exited at the Sixty-eighth Street stop.

  Andy looked around the train for more talent and saw a good-looking Chinese girl with funky glasses sitting at the far end of the car, reading a thick paperback. There was space in front of her, so, at the next stop, Andy casually moved over there. He tried to make eye contact with the girl but she was too engrossed in her book to notice.

  At Ninety-sixth Street—Andy’s stop—Andy followed the girl out of the station. Andy was hoping that she lived in his building so he could get onto the elevator with her or follow her to the mailbox area and say, Hey, didn’t I just see you on the subway? a line that sometimes worked even when he hadn’t just seen the girl on the subway. But at the corner of Ninety-sixth and Lex, the girl headed uptown, and Andy went in the opposite direction, toward Ninety-fifth Street.

  Andy lived in Normandie Court, a complex of three massive apartment buildings that took up an entire square block between Second and Third Avenues and Ninety-fifth and Ninety-sixth Streets. The majority of residents in the building were recent college grads, which was why many people referred to the buildings as Dormandie Court. Andy lived in a three-bedroom apartment with five other guys and shared a room with his buddy Greg, a frat brother from Delta Kappa Epsilon at Michigan. Last year, Andy had had his own room at the frat house and he felt like he was taking a step backward in life, having to share a bedroom again, but he had little choice. Manhattan rents were so out of control that unless he wanted to move into some dive walk-up, or to an outer borough or Jersey, sharing was the only way to go. The rent on the apartment was $3,600 a month so Andy’s share came to only $600, which left him with plenty of expendable income for beer and going out.

  Andy went through the revolving doors into the lobby, which had the same anonymous, corporate feeling as the lobby in the building where he worked, and rode the elevator to his apartment on the twenty-seventh floor. As usual, the door was unlocked, and when he opened it he saw Chris sprawled on the couch in his boxers, watching porn. Chris worked nights, bartending at Bar East on First, which was very cool because he could sometimes give his roommates free drinks, but it was also very annoying because he worked until four or five in the morning, slept until two or three in the afternoon, and spent most of the rest of his time parked on the couch in his underwear.

  “Hey,” Andy and Chris said at the same time, and then Andy went down the hallway into his room. He took off his suit, added it to his half of the closet with his nine other suits from Banana Republic, and then went into the kitchen. Every dish and piece of silverware the guys had was dirty and piled in the sink. The counter was covered with pizza boxes, Pringles cans, beer and soda bottles, and Chinese take-out containers, and the garbage can was overflowing. Andy opened the fridge, which contained nothing but beer, soda, and leftover pizza and Chinese—most of which had been there for weeks—and took out a bottle of Lowenbrau. He went into the living room and sat in the red IKEA chair, next to Chris on the couch. On TV, an Asian woman was making out with a blonde. When the camera panned down to the Asian woman’s backside, Chris said, “You like that?”

  “Nice,” Andy said.

  “I don’t know, she’s too bony for me. I like some meat to grab on to, know what I mean?”

  Drinking their beers, not talking at all, they watched the girls go at it for several minutes. Then the front door opened and Will entered with a knapsack slung over one shoulder.

  “Hey,” Andy and Chris said, and Will said, “Hey.” Then Will looked at the TV and said, “All right, carpet munching!”

  Will was a med student at Mount Sinai and planned to become a pediatrician. He shared a bedroom with Steve, who was working as a paralegal while studying for his LSATs.

  Will grabbed a beer, then sat on a chair and started watching the movie. A couple of minutes later, John, who shared a room with Chris, came home. Although Andy had only had a few sips of Lowenbrau, he put the bottle down on the coffee table and announced, “I’m showering,” because he knew that John, who was a total metrosexual and took as long as a girl in the bathroom, always hogged the shower when he came home from work.

  The bathroom hadn’t been cleaned since they’d moved into the apartment five months ago, and there was mildew all over the tiles and the shower curtain, and the drain was clogged—thanks to John and Steve, who were both going prematurely bald—and the tub always filled with about six inches of water during showers. Whoever had used the toilet hadn’t bothered to flush and a few turds were floating on top.

  “Jesus, you guys are fuckin’ disgusting!” Andy shouted.

  “Thanks!” Chris, who was always proud of his big dumps, yelled back, and then Andy flushed, drowning out whatever else Chris was saying.

  Andy peed—not bothering to flush—and then took a quick shower. After he shaved, he returned to his bedroom with a towel around his waist and discovered that Greg had come home from work. Greg was sitting on his bed with Jessica, a-little-heavy-but-still-kinda-cute curly-haired Italian-looking girl who lived in one of the other buildings at Normandie.

  “Sorry,” Andy said.

  Jessica was looking away, embarrassed.

  “It’s cool,” Greg said. “Want us to go in another room or something?”

  Andy knew Greg would’ve killed him later if he said yes. Greg hadn’t hooked up since college, and Andy didn’t want to be a dick and take away a chance for his buddy to finally get some.

  “No, it’s cool,” Andy said. “Lemme just grab some clothes. Sorry to interrupt.”

  “You’re not really interrupting anything,” Jessica said, obviously trying to protect her dignity.

  Greg glared at Andy, as if Andy had blown it for him.

  “It’s okay,” Andy said. “I can get dressed anywhere.”

  Andy took a pair of socks, boxer briefs, Banana Republic jeans, a navy Banana Republic button-down shirt, and his Banana Republic loafers, then said, “See you guys later,” and left the room. Andy went into John and Chris’s room, got dressed, and then went into the steamy bathroom—John was showering—and gelled his hair, applied deodorant, and dabbed Lucky You cologne all over, including his pubic hair.

  He had some time to kill before he had to leave for his date, so he rejoined Will and Chris in the living room. Chris still had control of the remote and was switching between sports and por
n. Watching a red-haired woman having sex with two big black guys, Chris said to Will, “So what happened with you and that girl the other night?”

  “Which one?” Will asked.

  Chris looked at Andy. “Listen to this guy, ‘Which one?’” He turned to Will again. “Short, poodle hair.”

  “Oh, Lara. She’s really cool. She’s a speech therapist.”

  “Did you fuck her?”

  “Nah, I like her friend.”

  Chris said to Andy, “You shoulda seen this guy. He comes into the bar last night at one o’clock. He’s in his scrubs, of course, and he’s got two girls with him. Not one—two. Jen, the red-hot new bartender, goes to me, ‘Is your friend single?’ “

  “The guy’s a magnet,” Andy said.

  “It’s because he’s a fuckin’ doctor,” Chris said.

  “I’m not a doctor yet,” Will said.

  “You know what I’m talking about,” Chris said. “You wear those scrubs everywhere—supermarket, Blockbuster, running in the park—and babes come up to you like you’re fucking fly tape.”

  “Jealous?” Will asked.

  “Of the scrubs, not you,” Chris said. “Even Andy could get laid wearing that doctor shit, right, And?”

  Andy was staring at the TV. The redhead was in a contorted position on a staircase, between the two guys. Chris used the pause feature on the DVR and then slo-mo’d the scene.

  “I saw that chick in this other film the other day,” Chris said.

  “Listen to this dude—film,” Will said. “Like it’ll win a fuckin’ Academy Award.”

  “Shit, what the hell’s her name?” Chris asked.

  “Ginger something,” Will said.

  “No, I know who you’re thinking of,” Andy said. “This one’s Heidi or Hillary or something with an H…Holly?…Nah, wait a sec, it’ll come to me.”

  Chris continued playing the scene at normal speed and then, just as the guys started to orgasm at the same time—Andy had always wondered how they did that; didn’t they, like, get grossed out by each other?—Greg and Jessica came down the hallway. Chris spotted them and flicked the channel back to ESPN, but Greg and Jessica had obviously heard the sex sounds, because Jessica was smiling and blushing, and Greg looked pissed off.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Chris said, trying to act casual.

  Andy and Will were trying not to crack up.

  “You guys going out tonight?” Jessica asked.

  “I have to work,” Chris said.

  “Studying,” Will said.

  “I have a date,” Andy said.

  “Cool,” Jessica said. “If you guys aren’t doing anything tomorrow night, me and my roommates’re having a party.”

  “Thanks,” Andy and Will said.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Chris said.

  Greg walked Jessica out to the elevator and returned a couple of minutes later. The guys were watching porn again.

  “You’re such fuckin’ assholes, you know that?” Greg said.

  “What?” Chris said innocently.

  “Why can’t you turn off that shit when I’ve got a girl in the house?”

  “Relax,” Will said. “She seems to like you.”

  “Yeah, she seems chill,” Chris said. “What the fuck’s she doing with you? Her roommates good-looking or what?”

  “I’m serious,” Greg said. “First Andy walks in on us—”

  “I had to get dressed,” Andy said.

  “—and then she comes into the living room and it’s porn central.”

  “Somebody sounds like he didn’t get any,” Chris said.

  “Yeah, I guess the drought ain’t over yet, huh?” Will said.

  “Drought?” Chris said. “It’s like the fuckin’ Sahara in there.”

  “I’ll be lucky if she even wants to go out with me again,” Greg said.

  “What’re you talking about?” Chris said. “She loved us—she invited us to that party. So what’s the deal with the roommates?”

  “One’s hot as hell,” Greg said. “The other one’s pretty cute, too.”

  “Jessica’s cute, so that sounds promising,” Chris said. “So did you get anything off her yet?”

  “We got to second base.”

  The guys laughed.

  “Second base!” Chris said. “Listen to this guy. It’s like he’s back in junior high. So you got in her shirt, huh?”

  “I thought second’s a hand job,” Andy said.

  “Bullshit,” Chris said. “Second’s the shirt. The guy probably didn’t get under her bra, either. See, look at him, I can tell he didn’t.” Chris laughed.

  “I have to admit, that’s pretty pathetic,” Will said.

  “You’re still the only guy in the apartment who hasn’t gotten laid,” Chris said to Greg.

  “So what?” Greg said. “I don’t have to prove anything to you guys.”

  “You have to prove you know how to get laid,” Chris said.

  John came into the living room and Chris added, “Even John got some last week.”

  “What’s going on?” John asked.

  “Greg’s still oh-for-Manhattan,” Will said.

  “Thanks to these assholes and their fuckin’ porn,” Greg said.

  “Whoa, so now you’re anti-porn?” Chris said. “How come the Penthouses have your name and address on them?”

  “And the Screws, too,” Will said.

  “Look who’s talking,” John said to Chris. “Whenever I come home at night, the TV suddenly goes off and I see you lying on the couch, covering up.”

  “I gotta agree with that one,” Andy said.

  “I admit I like to shoot my rod every once in a while,” Chris said, “but I think Greg’s the official jerk-off king of this apartment.” He looked at Greg. “Maybe that’s why you’re not getting laid—because you’re jerking off too much. It’s fucking up your sex drive.”

  “No, I’m not getting laid because I’m living with you guys,” Greg said.

  “So it’s our fault,” Chris said as a statement. “Like if you were living in a studio, the chicks would be lining up for you.”

  “Maybe,” Greg said.

  “Living here doesn’t stop me from getting laid,” Chris said. “It doesn’t stop John or Doc, and it doesn’t stop your own roommate.” Chris turned toward Andy. “You’ve been fucking that chick, right?”

  “Yeah,” Andy lied.

  “See?” Chris said to John.

  “Hey, how come we haven’t met this girl yet?” John asked Andy.

  “Yeah,” Will said. “When’s the reveal?”

  “Maybe she’s a pig,” Chris said.

  “I’m just preparing her,” Andy said.

  “For what?” Chris asked.

  “Yeah, we’re nice guys,” Will said.

  “Yeah,” Chris said. “I mean, it’s not like we’re disgusting porn-watching scumbags or anything like that.”

  Will and Chris laughed, and then Will took a big gulp of beer.

  “Maybe he’s talking about the apartment,” John said.

  “What’s wrong with the apartment?” Chris asked.

  “It’s a fuckin’ pigsty,” John said. “It’s a miracle we don’t have mice.”

  “I think I saw a roach the size of a mouse last week,” Will said.

  “I’m talking about the apartment and you guys,” Andy said.

  “What?” Chris said. “You’re embarrassed?”

  “You guys don’t exactly make a great first impression,” Andy said.

  “Whoa, whoa,” Chris said. “What do you mean? We got a med student, a law student, a handsome-as-hell bartender…”

  “He’s got a point,” Will said. “Ever notice how girls don’t wanna go out with us again after they come here?”

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Greg said.

  “No, the problem is you,” Chris said. “You fuck around, trying to get to second base, when you should be getting laid like your roommate.”

  Andy got up, then sa
id, “I gotta get going.”

  “I wanna see a picture of this mystery girl,” John said to Andy.

  “Or how ’bout you set up a Web cam tonight?” Chris added. “See some filmage.”

  Andy took his brown leather bomber jacket out of the hallway closet and then said, “Later on, dudes,” and left the apartment.

  It was a relief to be alone. Andy had nothing against his roommates—they were cool and everything—but this sharing-a-place-with-five-other-guys shit was getting old. He was glad he was taking the GMATs next month and would be in business school next year. He hoped to go to Wharton or Harvard, and when he had his MBA and some kick-ass job, he’d move back to New York the right way. He’d be working at Lehman Brothers or Morgan Stanley or someplace A-list, and he’d have his own three-bedroom. He’d also have a Ferrari, a house in the Hamptons, and everything else he’d always dreamed of.

  Heading along Second Avenue, Andy passed a Korean grocery with flowers for sale in front, and he decided to buy a bouquet of pink roses for Katie. He really liked her. She was the first girl he’d met since graduation whom he could see taking home to Pennsylvania to meet his parents. She also was the type of girl he could see being with long-term, even after he got his MBA. He could imagine taking her out to dinner at fancy, trendy restaurants and to work-related parties and feeling proud. The last girl he’d gone out with, Steffi, was cool and everything, but she didn’t have class. She was the kind of girl you want to go to bars with but not who you want to marry. Katie was totally different. Andy knew that Katie liked him as much as he liked her, which was why it was starting to frustrate him that he hadn’t gotten any yet.