Chapter 5 #2
Female bar patrons had been side-eying their booth the entire time. Sipping from the stirrers of their drinks like their luscious lips were auditioning for a part. Hair flipping. And laughing just a bit too loud. Now that Avi had been abandoned by Nora and Talia, two swooped in.
“Hi, Avi…can I have your autograph?”
“Can I have your babies?”
Toss, toss, giggle, giggle. Suck, suck.
“Will you take a selfie with us?”
A shaking hand thrust a damp cocktail napkin past Jay. Another plunked their phone into Jonah’s hand. Time to make another damn sandwich.
“Slide in, ladies. I’ve got the arms for this.” Jonah moved in closer to Avi on one side. Jay did the same on the other, pulling the pen from behind his ear to summon the autograph seeker closer.
Selfie girl clambered onto the leather banquette, practically climbing into Jonah’s lap in her attempt to be closer to Avi. He could smell the Hanukkah Hammer on her breath as she called out instructions. “Now take a vertical so I can add it to my stories!”
“You’d better tag me!” the friend warned, and Jay looked like he regretted giving his pen up only for it to be used as a weapon.
“Say latkes!” Avi grinned, unfazed.
“LATKES!”
After the girls had photographic proof and an autograph to back it up, they had the sense enough to vacate the booth, leaving a sweet cloud of perfume and cherry whisky lingering in the air around it.
“Now that you’re living in the city full time, Asher’s going to need to hire more bouncers,” Jay murmured. He slid from the booth as well. “See you fools on board. Remember – the Baller waits for no one.” He pointed one last finger at each of them before heading out.
Avi drained the dregs of his drink.
“You don’t always have to do that, Jo.”
“Do what?”
“Act like my human shield.” He shook the ice in his glass. “Here. At the airport. What do you think happens when you’re not around?”
“Well, if they’re asking you to be their sperm donor in public…I think a lot could happen.”
Avi laughed around a mouthful of cubes, shaking his head. Jonah wondered if he could get away with letting his own curls weigh themselves down into the thick waves Avi had, and concluded no. His hair tended to grow up, and out, rather than down. He’d have a Jewfro of epic proportions.
“Stop worrying about me. And ignore Jay – you killed it last year, dude. And challenging us all to a fundraising competition was your brilliant idea. You or I might’ve won if Eli hadn’t rigged the system.”
That was true. Jonah had run the Matzo Baller’s P&L and knew the numbers – it had been the most successful Baller yet, even before Eli’s eleventh hour, long distance donation of a cool million on Jay’s behalf.
Still. Jonah felt something as he made his descent at Union Square to grab the 6 train home.
Not depression…more like uselessness. What good was arm day at the gym if he couldn’t be muscle for Avi once in a while and flex to keep fans in their place?
Why even write jokes for tomorrow night if Jay considered him potentially hazardous to the event’s bottom line?
Nora had Beck and he could get his own tool belt to build her baby furniture from now on.
Talia and Jay were pretty much chuppah-bound with their respective bashert, if their fulfilling careers ever slowed down to let them.
Meanwhile, his own job, as Avery put it, really was the “boringest” and pretty soon, machines and AI would probably replace him anyway.
Faster and funnier. He felt slow and…not very witty at all.
Back at his apartment, he spied the suit he’d brought home from the cleaners last week, still hanging from the back of the closet door in its clear bag.
Bought as a lark a few years back, the crushed black velvet with neon Hanukkah designs printed chaotically all over it had been his go-to look for the Matzo Baller.
Fun, festive, a little loud, and a lot his style.
Now it looked cheap and gaudy, like he was trying too hard.
A black tux also hung, like a sleek shark in a sea of blue and grey business suits.
Years back, Eli had outfitted the entire crew for a trip to Monaco.
Gowns for the girls, penguin suits for the guys.
It was the first trip where Eli said, “hey, wanna go somewhere?” and their Year Course backpacks crammed with all-weather clothes weren’t going to cut it.
Probably the first time they’d all realized that if they were going to roll with Eli in his world, it was by his rules and usually on his dime.
“Fit and fabric,” the tailor had emphasized, as she draped Jay in Tom Ford, Avi in Saint Laurent, and Jonah in Hugo Boss. Its athletic cut was a world away from memories of rented prom tuxes that felt like they would Hulk out and burst at the seams.
And it still fit perfectly now.
He stashed the velvet suit in the back of the closet. Maybe it would make an appearance next Hanukkah. But for this Baller…this Hanukkah felt a little different. And he felt like he was ready to be a different Jonah.
Ready to be taken more seriously.
He spent the remaining hours of the evening polishing his shoes.
Finding his best cufflinks. Shaving, trimming his beard.
Digging out the expensive curl product he’d been talked into buying at his last haircut and had all but forgotten about.
And rehearsing what he would say if he ran into Kara Koff again.
Thanks for being kind, when you didn’t have to be.
“I didn’t account for this when I was wardrobe planning,” Kara confessed. She spun Tzipi around to inspect how much of the black cutaway gown left Tzipi’s shoulder tattoo exposed. “Nope, that won’t work. Even if we tried concealer and a setting powder, these embellishments would rub them off.”
The embellishments in question were thin silver chains with sprays of Swarovski crystals that draped across her back where the Italian silk left skin exposed. It was the most glamorous thing Tzipi had ever stepped into, and she could instantly picture Kara wearing it to a red carpet premiere.
Which made it hard to reconcile that the vision in the mirror was following her orders, lifting hand to chest as she turned to inspect Lorne’s flowers sprouting from under the black silk.
“What about that blue velvet, there?” Tzipi pointed. It was long sleeved, with full back coverage and looked infinitely warmer. Especially when Kara pulled it from the hotel closet rack, revealing the wide legs of a pantsuit, although the front plunged dramatically.
“Shoot. I wore this on the boat last year! Sorry, Tiz. It would invite too much speculation…and comparison. Couldn’t you just see the side-by-side pictures now?”
Ah, the old Who Wore It Better catfight, usually reserved for an aging starlet and an up-and-coming young actress whose stylists had unfortunately chosen identical gowns. In this case, it would be who wore it better, last year’s real McCoy, or this year’s knockoff decoy.
“What about the Milly dress I bought yesterday?”
“Super cute find! Boho Hepburn vibes.”
In Kara-speak, that was a no. And Tzipi had to agree.
She had purchased it with her short hair in mind, not these voluptuous waves that would overpower such an adorable frock.
And, as much as she loved it (enough to pull it off the rack and try it on without glancing at the price tag) it did not have “party cruise past midnight” energy.
More like “curled up in a cozy West Village café sipping coffee on a lazy Saturday afternoon” vibes.
Maybe she would do that, once the big night was behind her. Something to look forward to. For now, she had to keep her eye on the ball. Or, more accurately, the Baller.
Tzipi's phone buzzed on the bed. She glanced at it.
A text from one of Lorne's stunt friends in Melbourne.
Thinking of you this weekend, Tzipi. Saturday's gonna be hard.
She set the phone face-down.
"You okay?" Kara lowered the dress she'd been holding up.
"It's already Friday in Australia. Saturday…
" Tzipi's voice dwindled. "Lorne would’ve been thirty-one.
I can only imagine what my Facebook feed is going to look like all weekend.
Happy birthday in heaven posts…pictures and those well-meaning 'gone but not forgotten' tributes on his wall from everyone who worked with him. "
Kara's face shifted – guilt creeping in. "Tiz, I wasn't thinking about the date when I asked you to –"
"No, Kar." Tzipi shook her head. " Trust me, the Matzo Baller is exactly the distraction I need."
Kara sat on the edge of the bed. "You could stay off social media too. Take a break for the weekend."
"Yeah." Tzipi picked up another dress without really seeing it. "Maybe I should."
“I’ve got it!” Kara hopped up, pulling a whisper of a gown from the closet. “Try,” she insisted at Tzipi’s skeptical look.
Holding her breath, Tzipi stepped into the dress and let Kara zip the back.
It was delicate and dramatic all at once.
For one, it was silver, but not flashy in the way some silver dresses screamed.
Net tulle draped this way and that, soft and matte.
One layer of the material on its own would be too sheer, but the design ingeniously combined many layers to hang, elegant and flattering, on Tzipi’s every curve.
The only shine came from a glittery, beaded peek at the V-neck bodice, which was half-hidden by swaths of the fabric and a long, cape-like sleeve on one side.
The side that happened to be her tattooed shoulder.
Tulle draped high along her back, with just enough of a dip to feel glam but still provide full coverage of the inked flowers.
And something about the sleeve, although sheer, drew the eye.
The asymmetrical design provided the illusion of coverage, but the other bare shoulder and hint of cleavage kept the dress unapologetically sexy.
The overall effect had Tzipi mesmerized by her own refection.
“It checks all the boxes.” Kara stood back, crossing her arms with satisfaction. “And wowza, hotter on you than me!”
Tzipi wasn’t sure about that. Kara looked great in just about anything.
“But I am you, remember?”
The girls dissolved into laughter, which felt like a balm to Tzipi’s frayed nerves. Could they really pull this off?
In some ways, she had the easy part. Board boat, smile, be seen. Kara had to elude the public…and pull off a wedding without Hollywood (and Shel’s Grandma Ackerman) finding out.
“What will you be wearing? Are you getting nervous?”
Kara smiled and waved a hand. “I’ll send a pic, I promise. And no way. With my twin and my beloved as my two best friends? I’m not nervous, I’m the luckiest.” She reached out and gave Tzipi’s hand a squeeze. “Now, time to accessorize you.”
Shoes, jewelry, purse and coat…it was like walking onto the Room to Bloom set and knowing that professionals had taken care of all the wardrobe details.
Everything vetted, perfectly fitted. You just had to focus on your role.
When they were younger, the Solokoff sisters delighted in finding identical neon ruffle skirts, matching butterfly clips for their hair, and even the same light-up sneakers that their parents would never buy for back-to-school.
Looking back, they were a walking advertisement for mall fashion, but at the time, it was pretty magical.
Now, Kara had recreated an adult version in the hotel closet. And all Tzipi had to do was show up and not flub her lines.
While it wasn’t customary to make wishes over Hanukkah candles, since it didn’t involve blowing them out to seal the deal, Tzipi broke tradition and wished. Her lips murmured the Hebrew while her mind raced, in English, a hundred miles per hour. One silent plea for each candle.
Please let them get to Hawaii for the most beautiful wedding.
Please let everyone think I am Kara.
Please get me through eight hours trapped on a boat.
Please get them home from Hawaii so I can go back to my old life.