Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
“ W hy are you exiting?”
“Because I need to pee, you need actual shoes that cover your toes, and there’s a mall right there. With a food court. It’s a one-stop no-brainer.”
And because the last hour with you – and your playlist – was so intense, I need retail therapy.
Seriously, with the grim task of delivering Mrs. Horowitz’s belongings to her sister in Erie still looming, Leah needed to recharge under the fluorescent lights and bask in the piped-in Christmas music for a while.
Turned out she had a pretty gifted DJ sitting shotgun, after all – once she finally handed over the phone to him. Curating playlists from her own downloaded favorites, but also sharing music he had discovered over the years. And, whether he hadn’t come across it or was humbly ignoring it, he hadn’t played her even one Painted Doors song.
“You want me to walk into a shopping center in the middle of America during the holiday season?” He looked equal parts terrified and intrigued.
“I’m sure Mall Santa is okay sharing the limelight with you.”
It felt good to stretch legs and get a gulp of fresh, cool air. Avi was careful to dodge the potholes and puddles this time. But his steps slowed as they reached the main entrance to the mall, and even though he held the door for her, it seemed he might bolt the other way any minute.
“Here they come, your adoring fans! I’ll fend them off. Oh wait, it’s just mall walkers.” She gave a little push to his furry shoulder in jest.
“Yeah, yeah, point taken.” His brows lifted sheepishly, disappearing under his shaggy swoop of hair across his forehead. “Let’s go pop some tags.” He swaggered a bit in his new Macklemore coat.
“If it makes your ego feel any better, it is only 10 am on a Wednesday, and the teenyboppers are probably still in school.”
“My ego feels just fine, and is that what you think of my music?”
She shrugged, only shooting a cursory glance at the trendy store they had just passed. Hanging between the tinsel and BOGO signs were several of Painted Doors’ licensed apparel items.
“I’ve heard your band is quite the…hot topic.” She couldn’t hold her giggles.
“Yeah, yeah…keep walking, Gellman.”
Leah made a beeline to the ladies’ restroom. Ah, sweet relief. No sign of Avi when she came out, so she meandered into the pop culture lifestyle store that had his merch in the window and promptly bought a winter hat, black knit with PAINTED DOORS embroidered in bright yellow. On clearance.
It was already Hanukkah somewhere, wasn’t it? Plus, Buffalo was going to be colder than Erie.
She also checked her texts while waiting in line at the register. Jaz has sent a plethora of emojis that Leah took to mean “drive safe/have fun on the boat” and… eat eggplant in the rain?
She was spending way too much time at Bramblewood with the old folks and was out of touch on the latest lingo. She accented Jaz’s text with a question mark, and noticed Avi had not erased his texts as promised. A new one in the chain from an unknown number had come in, displaying its preview:
Baller no bueno. Spain was great, in Haifa now. I won’t say anything to S but keep me posted if you change your mind.
Baller, as in Matzo Baller, the same event she was going to on Friday? And who was S? Leah wasn’t sure what intrigued her more. It was her phone, should she feel bad for peeping?
She walked out and found him at a kiosk in the middle of the aisle, trying on sunglasses that were no doubt out of her daily budget. “Seriously?”
He whipped his head to face her, and the price tag dangling across his nose confirmed it. “We’re here for practical, weather-appropriate items, remember? Three hundred dollar sunglasses won’t prevent frostbite.”
“Killjoy.”
“Priorities. Your toes will thank me when you get to Buffalo. And if anything, you’ll only be attracting attention by wearing shades here. There’s about four hours of broad daylight in this part of the country in December. And it’s not exactly full spectrum.”
“You’re truly a ray of sunshine, Gellman.” His droll delivery, plus her growling stomach, made her patience short.
“Fine. Buy a pair. But from there.” She jabbed a finger at the brightly-lit store across the way.
“Abes-R-Us?”
He’d obviously never heard of it, because obviously being caught dead shopping there was beneath him.
“Abes, as in Lincoln? Everything is five dollars and under.” She fished in her crossbody bag for a bill. “And I bet if you sweet talk that cashier, she’ll throw in more than Twizzlers and a quart of oil.”
“That wasn’t – you mean back in Kismet?” he shook his shaggy locks. “You read that situation all wrong. She gave me the oil because I’d bought her the candy when – never mind. You’re right. I don’t need any shades. And…thank you. Preemptively. For thinking of better footwear.”
She waited to see if he planned to deliver a smart-ass punchline, but none came, so she nodded.
Whether he was sincere or had just wanted to evade being forced to don cheap fashion eyewear, she felt she needed to have last crack. “You’re welcome. Avigdor.” He gave her an elbow jab. “What? I figure we could use that for your alias.”
“I’d rather you not.”
They settled on some sturdy work boots – and dry socks – from a reputable, but certainly not high-end, department store. Understated enough for both Avi and her wallet to tolerate. Waterproofing thrown in for free, and not due to any sweet talk from anyone.
“You’ll give me your digits? Later?”
It took Leah a minute to realize he was asking her and not flirting with the sales help. “Yeah, sure.”
They must’ve hit some alternate parallel universe, one where a rock star like Avi Wolfson would ever ask for her digits. Or her advice on how he looked in his new boots (damn fine) or what flavor bubble tea she wanted (with her five bucks.)
“I’ll pay you back,” he promised. “After I catch up to the bus in Buffalo, I’ll send my share of this whole leg of the trip. Your number is already in my phone since I tried calling mine from yours. The money will be back in your account before I hit the stage.”
Hit the stage. All teasing aside, the man was a legit big deal. Big in Japan…and probably in Ashtabula or wherever the heck this mall was in Ohio. And had bigger obligations than some silly bucket list.
“Speaking of Buffalo…” She pulled the hat from her crossbody bag. “A little impulse purchase to help you blend in.”
He sputtered a laugh. “Singers don’t wear their own freaking band merch.”
“Exactly. Because how dorky would that be? Perfect disguise.”
“Okay, now you’re just fucking with me.”
But he mashed the hat over his shaggy, matted waves just the same. “Happy?”
“Hungry. The food court is that way.”
While Avi ordered a taro tea with extra boba, Leah sidled up to him, juggling little clear plastic cups in her palms.
“More where this came from,” she murmured, handing over the food court samples, each with their own little toothpick delivery devices. “I’m going to hit up the Greek and Thai places and will meet you at a table.”
He watched in amusement as she proceeded to meander past the workers, hawking samples of their cuisines. In her cute little puffer coat and pompom hat, she looked like your typical suburban female out for a day of retail therapy. Smiles and banter he couldn’t hear, followed by a gesture in his general direction and a nod of thanks. In the end, she was rewarded with two of everything and came to the table with her bounty.
“Ask, and you shall receive.” She shed her coat and hat, then unbuttoned the boxy sweater that had been cinched up to her chin. Avi almost choked on a boba.
Who knew she was hiding collarbones like that – with a delicate filigree tattoo peeking out from a low-cut V-neck?
She caught him looking and glanced down. The baby blue shirt she wore proclaimed DON’T TOUCH MY RACK in bold, dark font. “It’s a Mahjong thing,” she quickly explained. “You know, racks hold the tiles?”
“Whatever you say, Gellman.”
She blushed. “Eat. Before it all gets cold.”
Her little sampler tray surprisingly hit the spot – tiny triangles of spanakopita chased with bites of tofu Pad Thai, thimbles of lentil soup from the vegetarian place, and twists of spaghetti parm with fries on the side from the pizza place. “Who sweet-talked their way through the place now?” Avi teased, stealing a sip of her bubble tea.
“It never hurts to ask, as my friends in the retirement complex always say.”
Leah shrugged innocently, artfully arranging her tiny four-course meal around the pretty lilac-colored drink resting on the table. She snapped a quick photo before digging in. “They don’t get out much,” she explained. “The Beth El Bucket Listers back home. This way, they can follow along with my trip.”
“Bucket Listers? Sounds like another old people thing. Items you regret not doing while you had the chance.”
She gave him a flat look. “Lots of people have bucket lists. It’s like YOLO, or living your dash. It’s part of the zeitgeist now.”
“Living in between the lines is infinitely harder, and more rewarding, than just scratching items off the list.” He countered, pointing his tiny fork at her. “And bucket list sounds like regret to me.”
She glared at him, before pulling a leather-bound journal from her bag. “Then I need to add you, right here.” She made a show out of uncapping her pen. “ R-E-G-R-E-T …”
Were they going to rehash this again, in public this time? Avi hoped not. He realized he was actually enjoying being out in public. Here, with her. Was it the whole out of context thing that allowed him to fly under the radar?
Maybe it really was the band hat.
“I called in a favor .” He tossed a fry at her. “To your father. Not a bucket list item, surely.”
Leah dipped her head quickly as she closed the book, but not before he clocked the glassy look in her eyes. Had he touched a nerve?
Does it matter? Despite her earlier outburst, Leah Gellman was locked tighter than a safe, and seemed determined to stay that way. And he needed to catch a bus and be on his way before noon. Still, he was curious.
“So what else is on this list of yours?”
“Oh, it’s not mine. Well, maybe one or two are.” She showed him a page, keeping her hand firmly on the book so he couldn’t take possession for closer inspection. A neatly numbered list, some items with sketches or addresses jotted next to them, formed the weirdest city scavenger hunt Avi had ever seen.
“Coin in Bethesda fountain for Agatha? Can’t do that one,” he informed her.
“And why the hell not?”
“Hate to break it to you, but the city turns off Central Park fountains in winter.”
“Darn. Okay, I’ll improvise. Maybe find an indoor fountain.”
“Oh, this is an easy one.” He tapped his finger. “I can find you the best bialy in town.”
“Do you live in New York now?”
“Baltimore, actually.” He thought of the Fell’s Point condo he rented, sitting empty most of the year. Convenient for practicing with his bandmates who lived nearby, but not much else. “But I’m in Manhattan more often than not, when I’m off the road.”
He tilted his head to read another line. “Skating at Rockefeller Center is taking your life in your hands this time of year.”
“Yeah, I just added that one to be polite.” She laughed. “Mrs. Rose was a skater. She knew Peggy Fleming!”
“What’s this one?” It was decorated with dreidels and wreaths and cartoon lions, the address 42 nd & Fifth Ave scratched beside it.
“That one’s for Mrs. Blum. She can’t make the trip out to see her grandchildren. She wants me to hide a dreidel in one of the Library Lion’s wreathes, and their mother will take them to find it, with clues.”
Most girls Avi knew would be jumping at the chance to go clubbing in Soho or thrift shopping in the East Village if they were headed to Manhattan for a week.
He was quickly getting the idea that Leah Gellman wasn’t most girls.
“What are all these names and addresses?”
“I have to deliver eight Mahjong boxes to various high profile players and influencers around town,” Leah explained. “It’s part of our pitch but also a publicity campaign. They’ve agreed to post them over the eight nights of Hanukkah, so it’ll be pretty fun.”
“So you’re due in the city tonight?”
“Fort Lee, New Jersey actually. Jaz’s cousin is putting us – well, me – up.”
She was just about to close the book when Avi clocked a name in bold. “Who’s Doctor Ackerman?”
“Who’s S?” She lobbed back, seemingly startling herself. “I didn’t read your text, just saw the screen. New message, by the way.”
She held up her phone so he could see the unopened message.
Fuck, he had left Eli’s number in her phone. And here he thought breaking his bus rule was a bad one.
Eli Gold literally had seven people on speed-dial on that line. Avi had had to quickly explain why he was texting from an unknown number in order to establish contact and relay that he was okay. He could count on Eli not to ask many questions, and he wanted at least one person in his Jew Crew to be aware of his situation.
“Um, maybe the better question is why your friend Jaz is sending you dick emojis?” He laughed as she snatched the phone back. “Maybe something to do with the good doctor?”
“A friend is setting us up,” she said primly. “On a Hanukkah harbor cruise Friday night. And I have no idea why Jaz does many things. Why she married my nerd of a brother for one.” She looked back at the phone and shook her head. “I’m chalking those up to pregnancy hormones.”
“Lucas is married with a kid on the way? That’s cool. Well, mazel tov on the Jewish doctor lottery ticket. I hope he checks all your boxes. And no, there’s no emoji for that. Yet.”
She didn’t react to his eyebrow lift, so he added, “Oh, and I’ll be on the Matzo Baller too. Once I make it to New York, that is.”
Like a high stakes gambler, she called him on it with a raise of her own.
“Guess we’re in the same boat.”
Literally.
She stacked their tiny four-course meal cups and headed to the trashcan with them. “I know you’re probably not ready to give up your new fashion statement, but Mrs. Horowitz’s sister awaits. The original first bucket item on my trip, before you came along.”