The Follower Read Free

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, thedoor 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 coffeetable 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