Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
“ M aybe after you scatter Mrs. Horowitz…you’ll come back to town and catch the gig?” Avi’s eyes didn’t leave the road.
“Wow, witnessing the Falls and then Fainted Bores? Two firsts in one day might be too much.” Leah tried to sound light, carefree. As if famous singers invited her to attend their concerts – excuse me, catch the gig – every third Wednesday of the month.
He was probably just doing it to be polite. Give the basement dweller a thrill beyond wrestling old ladies for their dead sister’s ashes.
“Just a thought.” He shrugged. “Free catering.”
“Ah, you know me too well.”
“Yeah, well. I witnessed your international tour through the food court for free samples.” There was a hint of a smile.
“Thanks, but I really shouldn’t. Jaz’s cousin is expecting me tonight.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? It’ll be after three o’clock by the time we get to Buffalo. The Falls are only twenty minutes from there, but you’ve already added an extra hour or two to the trip to Manhattan.”
Now, she appreciated not only Avi’s company but his geography skills—no doubt sharpened over all those years spent on the road with his band. His calculations had her scrolling through budget chain hotels near Niagara Falls. At least it was off-season, so her wallet wouldn’t feel it as much.
Avi was a good driver, much to Leah’s relief. She wasn’t sure how a creature who lived on a tour bus half the year would function in normal society. But he used blinkers and knew how to check both side mirrors, and kept the cruise control right about where she did.
The one thing he wouldn’t stop doing was sniffing the air.
“Why is it when I turn my head to the left, I smell chocolate?” His tone was tinged with the intensity of a detective closing in on a suspect. “And when I turn my head to the right, I smell toasted walnuts. I think you have rugelach in this car.”
“I think you’re having a stroke.”
“Leah,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “if you’re holding out on me, I swear I will find it. Even if it takes the whole road trip.”
A chill rolled down her spine, and her tummy bottomed out like when she was listening to a really good narrator read a really good part in a really spicy book. I’d like to see you try.
“Oh, shit.” He squinted and ducked a bit to get a better look out the front window.
“What is that ?” Leah asked.
Cloud covering loomed large in the distance, descending like a dark gray curtain. It didn’t bode well, seeing as they were driving straight toward it.
“That’s lake effect snow. Very isolated, but…”
“Isolated is good, right? Like a small band of snow moving through?”
“Moving very slowly. So it might sit on top of a few square miles, but snow continuously. Let’s hope it’s not sitting over Buffalo.”
A place known for its snow. Great. They drove in silence as the city came into view.
The roads were still dry, but why did the afternoon sky look to be approaching dusk? A flashing sign read SKYWAY/ROUTE 5 CLOSED, USE ALT EXIT .
“They’re preparing for something.” Avi’s grim surmise was matched by a bitten lip as he maneuvered them into the downtown core. “Now I see why our tour manager was insistent on getting us into town early.” His dark eyes flicked to the rearview. “Not many cars on the road.”
Leah pressed the radio knob, turning the station dials from static to more static. It felt like they were in a zombie apocalypse movie.
“Try AM,” Avi suggested. Sure enough, some disembodied voice was slowly listing early closings in counties with unfamiliar names. And predicted snowfall – in feet, not inches.
The GPS signaled they were approaching their destination. “Fuck me,” Avi muttered under his breath. “This cannot be happening.”
“What?” Leah didn’t see anything amiss.
“The bus isn’t here.” He did a double-take as they drove past the back of the venue. “The bus should be back here.”
Out front, the marquee was still lit, the band’s name in bold lettering. A few people were milling about on the sidewalk, backs hunched to the wind.
“It’s a GA show…general admission. There’s usually a line by now.” Avi doubled back and parked. “Load-in would’ve been hours ago, maybe…” His voice trailed off. Leah realized his rundown wasn’t for her benefit. It was his cataloging of what should be steps in a normal workday for him. Trying to make sense of something that was clearly not right in his world.
He opened the car door. “You want to hang here?”
With the zombies? No way. “I’ll come with you.”
A door she hadn’t noticed before broke up the windowless expanse of the building, and Avi banged on it. It had no handle, just a keyhole, and was painted to blend in. He pulled a badge from his pocket on a long lanyard. Leah assumed it was his backstage pass, because as soon as he flashed it to the person who opened the door a crack, they were ushered in.
“Dude. The mayor issued a driving ban for four o’clock.” The guy was tall and lanky, pushing his winter cap off his sheepish brow with the back of his hand. “Had to cancel. Bus left about an hour ago. Hi,” he added, holding out a hand to Leah. “I’m Danny.”
“Leah, hi.”
“Did they leave anything for me?”
“Don’t think so? Let’s check the box office.”
Leah followed behind as the two men strode through the semi-dark venue from backstage, across the house floor, and into the lobby bar. She imagined the place filled with people; with shouts and laughter and the night’s anticipation. And what it must feel like to be waiting in the wings as the lights grew dim and the applause began. All those fans, hearts and minds racing. To know they were all waiting for you.
Now she wished she hadn’t laughed at his invitation. That it was a normal night, and she was just a normal girl, watching in the crowd as he took the stage. No, as he dominated it. Man of the hour.
The guy who threw a fry at her in the food court. Who posed for her in that ridiculous fur coat and had her back as she stood up to heartless Hattie. Who sang along to her playlist and shared his favorite songs with her. Now he was the guy who leaned on the counter with his chin in his hands, tapping the toe of one new cheap boot as he waited to see if he’d be getting any part of his life back any time soon.
“No wallet? Phone? Anything?”
“No, man. I’m sorry. It was pretty chaotic here when we got the news. Everyone scattered. I was just updating socials and setting up ticket refunds, then heading home to beat the storm when you arrived.”
“Think it’s going to be as bad as they say?”
Danny shrugged. “It’ll probably hit the Southtowns more than us, but the city needs to be prepared just in case. Especially after the last blizzard, lots of people got stuck on the road. You and your lady got a place to stay?”
“We’re…” Childhood acquaintances? Not a couple? Parting ways?
“We’re headed to the Falls.” Avi shot her a glance. “Still the plan?”
“Niagara County, no ban there.” Danny nodded. “Yet.”
Leah’s phone buzzed with an incoming text. She pulled it from her back pocket and turned from the men, grateful for a distraction from the spiraling logistics.
Hi Leah, it’s Hersh Ackerman. Got a moment to talk?
Leah stared at the screen. This was new. The doctor had mostly stuck to polite, enthusiastic two-word replies – sounds great! can’t wait! thank you! – via the group text his grandmother had initiated with surprisingly advanced skills. A private message suggesting a phone call? The doctor had quickly leveled up.
Texting is better right now tbh
She wasn’t ready for sweaty palms and a racing heart with Avi nearby, conferring with Danny about the best route to get her – them – to the Falls.
I can’t believe she finally got me.
Grandma Tilly.
I take it you haven’t heard about her legendary setups.
Do tell.
She awaited his response, realizing she had just saved his contact under his initials: HA – as if everything she said had a built-in laugh track.
She once paired my vegetarian brother with a kosher butcher because, and I quote, “They can bond over food.”
Leah had a feeling she knew where this was going.
Let me guess: you’re a health nut who’s also gluten intolerant and allergic to nuts?
I am a bit of a health nut—but I have one weakness: my grandmother’s rugelach. If I’m going down, it’s for that.
Just to clear the air—I’m actually very happily paired up already.
…and there’s the punch line.
Texting had been the right call. Her thumbs worked fast while her brain re-calibrated.
Oh, thank God. Not that I didn’t trust her judgment, I’m sure you’re a catch. But I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I just wanted to do something nice for Tilly.
You’re as sweet as she says. The fact she trusted you with her rugelach speaks volumes. My partner and I are just keeping things low-key for now. Demanding careers, nosy family members—esp the grandma variety.
That’s a lot to share with the person delivering pastries, but I appreciate the clarity.
LOL Well, I still look forward to meeting you.
And if you need any advice about your first time on the Baller, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll see you on board, Leah.
Well, she could at least mentally check off "awkward setup" and "expectations" from her bucket list. No romance, no pressure—just rugelach delivery. She deleted the thread and slowly walked back to join the men and the conversation.
“How ‘bout some catering for the road?” Danny offered. “We’ve got a full fridge in the green room.”
“Now you’re talking.”
Danny jogged toward a back staircase. Avi pulled a sheet of paper taped to the box office wall, folding it before handing it to her. “Hang on to this for me?”
She slipped it into her purse, only to look up and see Avi striding into the main part of the venue. Were they allowed to just roam around unescorted? He seemed right at home, like he knew the place as well as the back of his hand. Leah had no choice but to follow.
Avi stood in the middle of the concert floor, facing the front. He pushed his hands into his hoodie pockets and lifted his chin as if he were watching some ghost band take the stage. And maybe he was – the venue had a vibe about it. Not malevolent, just…seasoned. Leah could imagine specters from its speakeasy days, tramping the same floor.
“Everyone played here back in the day,” Avi commented, as if reading her mind. “Sinatra, Coltrane…all the greats. What I love about this place, is it has perfect sightlines.”
He paced to the left, then the right, before walking his way backward to the stage. “No matter where you stand…great views of the band. That’s one of the reasons why we still choose to play here and not the arena down the road.”
He braced his hands behind him and deftly hoisted himself to a seated position at the lip of the stage, patting the spot next to him.
Leah joined him, not as gracefully. Once settled, she stared out into the darkened room. Safety lights shone here and there, offering her views into the corners and crevices. She again tried to imagine it full of people. And through Avi’s eyes.
“If everyone can see you…does that mean you can see everyone?” She asked.
He nodded slowly, smiling. The lone spotlight from above brought out the russet in his hair. He turned to her. “Can you film me for a second?”
“Avi Wolfson, he who has avoided cameras and the public at every turn?” she joked but hopped down and honored his request. Avi ran a hand through his dark locks and gazed out at her from where he sat.
“Hey, everyone. It’s Avi.”
His smile was all at once sheepish and sexy. Did he practice that look in front of a mirror? All Leah knew was that it was doing funny things to her insides.
“Sorry about tonight’s show being canceled, we were looking forward to rocking out with you. But safety first, kids. Tickets are being refunded at your point of purchase, but I promise you, we’ll be back to make it up to you, Buffalo. Until then…” He flashed a peace sign. “Shalom, stay safe.”
The wink at the end was everything. It brought back a memory that had no images or words, just a feeling. A feeling of being thirteen and in the same room with a cute boy and, oh, the possibilities.
“You can stop filming, Gellman.” His tone was teasing. She realized she was still holding up her phone, gawking from behind it.
“Safety first for you, too.” Avi’s expression shifted, and his voice held a serious note. “Are you okay to keep driving? And…with me?”
She knew what he meant. The two of them, in the same boat. With the same end goal.
The Matzo Baller and Manhattan were at the finish line of this strange marathon. Was it better to have someone to pass the baton to — or in this case, share the driving and the hours?
She nodded. “As long as I get to play DJ when I’m riding shotgun.”
“Jesus take the wheel,” he joked, but the relief on his face was apparent. He nodded, too. “Deal.”
Danny was back, plastic bags loaded with to-go containers swinging from his wrists and a six-pack of Labatt beer in his hands. “Here you go, even got your kosher beef on weck from Mastman’s Deli.”
“Bless the tour rider!” Avi laughed, taking the bounty from him. “You always go above and beyond, man.”
“We try.” The man beamed. “City of Good Neighbors here. But the band took the Crown Royal. And the socks.”
Even without the highway signs flashing warnings every few miles about the driving ban about to take effect, there was a heavy, impending feeling as Leah navigated them toward Niagara Falls.
“Did you hear that?” A rumble shook the car.“Thundersnow.”
Leah’s eyes widened, but she didn’t take her eyes off the road for a second. Big fat snowflakes had begun to swirl in the sky, almost playfully. Avi couldn’t help but think about how far off her plan she had already deviated. She was supposed to be halfway to New York City by now.
And he should’ve been getting ready to take the stage.
Instead, he was using her phone to sync up with management finally, thanks to that production sheet he’d pulled from the box office wall. Soundcheck, door times, curfew…he’d never looked too carefully at Buck’s handiwork or what went into advancing a show. All the contact info of all the people responsible for making sure the band hit the stage and promptly left it. Avi wondered how long he could go before anyone realized he was accidentally missing from the equation.
Unless it hadn’t been an accident.
Paul had been gunning for him all tour. Maybe it had been Paul’s artist pass on the driver’s seat, and he had told Joe to get on the road, knowing Avi had forgotten to leave his?
It was a road of thought he didn’t want to travel down.
He decided to send the video Leah had captured to the number listed for Danny, who’d said he was updating the venue’s social media. He’d most likely tag the band, which would also serve as proof of life.
In case anyone was wondering.
His fingers hovered over the last digit of Buck’s phone number. He could make contact and a pick-up plan with a couple of keystrokes. But the thought of Leah having to white-knuckle-drive by herself didn’t sit well with him. Nor did the thought of climbing back on the bus or the long walk of shame down the aisle amidst the band’s ball-busting.
You are the band.
It surfaced like a taunt, heating the tips of his ears even without the benefit of his new mall merch hat.
As they journeyed over the Grand Island bridge, it felt like there was no going back. He and Leah were in this adventure together. For better or for worse.
In the same boat…trying to get to the same boat.
Avi tapped Tobin’s number from the sheet into the phone.
Hey, it’s Avi. Long story but…
Tobin immediately responded.
Pic or I don’t believe you.
Avi rolled his eyes and acquiesced.
OMG dude. You live. WTF. Where are you????
I’m so sorry!
Not your fault. I forgot to leave my laminate on the driver’s seat.
I fell back to sleep and next thing I knew, we were pulling into Buffalo.
Buck nearly had an aneurysm, you know that vein in his forehead that throbs when he’s stressed or pissed or…well, I guess it’s always there.
And Paul?
He thinks you went AWOL. After that fight.
So probably not a deliberate move on Paul’s part. But dickish, all the same.
TBH I think the band was actually relieved Buffalo canceled. Better than having to tell anyone they lost their lead singer.
Do me a favor. Let them stew in it a little longer.
Just make sure my Takamine acoustic and all my stuff makes it onto the Matzo Baller, Pier 83, by Friday afternoon.
You got it, boss.
A photo came through. Tobin with his three-day scruff, saluting the camera. Avi smiled.
Thanks, friend.