Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
“ F ocus, man. I get it, she’s gorgeous and fuck me…she got you here against all odds. But you do remember Sylvie is somewhere on this boat?”
Jay wound through the well-wishers and partiers, not slowing down for a moment. Jonah was at Avi’s heels, an outstretched arm preemptively halting any on-lookers who thought they may have just seen their favorite singer rush by cloaked in an old lady fur. And Tobin scrambled to keep up as Sherpa for all of Avi’s gear.
And his phone.
“Dude, where’s my phone?”
Tobin plunked the prized possession into Avi’s hand, but Jay quickly plucked it right out. “No time.” They hustled through a back hallway toward Jay’s office. “There’s damage control and then there’s – no, no, no, we aren’t putting those out!”
Jay stopped three workers who were in the process of carrying several huge marquee letters towards the main deck. “I can roll with anything except the misspelling of my event. The vendor sent over A-H , no O! I always spell ‘Matzo’ with an ‘O.’ Guys, leave it. Maybe we will put out the BALLER letters a bit later, when everyone is too sloshed to ask where the MATZO part is. But right now, I’ve got bigger fish to fry.”
He pushed Avi into his office, the other guys trailing behind.
“Again, did you literally forget you were going to be floating in the middle the river, trapped on a vessel for eight hours with Sylvie Shapiro?”
“I’ve got it locked down.” Not quite. But Sylvie had said she wanted to talk, and he assumed she meant before they involved their friends, so he left it at that.
Tobin stashed Avi’s belongings, minus his guitar. “I’ll have this tuned up and ready for you, Wolf.”
“Thanks, Tobin. Oh, wait. This belongs to you, minus the fifty bucks. How about I come out to Philly next week and take you out to dinner? For your birthday.” His guitar tech looked genuinely touched…until he took a peek in his wallet.
“Hey, where’s my lucky condom?”
“Avi Wolfson, ladies and gents.” Jay said drolly, as Avi grinned and gave a sorry-not-sorry shrug.
Jonah hooted a laugh. “Man overboard! Respect the guy code, Avi. You gotta replace the life jackets.”
“Dinner and dessert, Tobin. I’m not going out into the cold to buy condoms for your sorry ass.”
His tech smirked at the inside joke, saluting and slipping out with Avi’s guitar in hand.
“All joking aside, I’ve got a lot riding on tonight,” Jay reminded. “We’ve got the Menorah Matchmaker herself here, Esther Weiss. And pulling off this silent auction for Free Arts NYC is going to be huge. All hands on deck?”
“Hands, feet, tuchuses ,” Jonah confirmed. “Any body parts you need, man.” He turned to Avi. “You’ll catch my improv set later, right? It’s gonna be epic. And filthy.” He grinned, chewing on the rocks from his now-drained drink.
“Front row, brother.” Avi tapped his chest.
“You good to close out the night with the house band? And auction off a three-song acoustic set? And not get thrown overboard by a certain photographer?”
Avi answered in the affirmative to everything Jay asked of him as he unzipped the garment bag and pulled out his tux. It had been sealed up for the better part of the year, but still held its crisp lines from its last dry-cleaning.
He also marveled at his friend’s ability to keep all the details in place. “Thanks, And I’m sorry, man. For going dark the last couple of days. It’s been…” Avi scrubbed a hand over his mouth.
Jay clapped his hands on Avi’s shoulders before he could finish. “It’s been a minute, and I promise we’ll catch up when the boat has docked and I’ve slept. Just glad you’re here.” They hugged again. “But I have a million more things to do, and getting dressed is one of them. So scram!”
Avi stole one last look in the mirror, tugging at his tux sleeves and smoothing his wing tip collar. He’d figure out the bow tie later…or not. Grabbing a rubber band from the desk, he smoothed his curls back, snagged them with the elastic and twisted.
On his way out the door, he called back to Jay. “Hey, can I borrow a few of those light-up letters? And the karaoke setup? And maybe one of the smaller decks for like twenty minutes or so?”
“If all goes as planned tonight, you can have my left kidney.” Jay handed him back his phone. “Just make us a boatload of money with that acoustic auction item. Your boy here has pitted you all against one another, to see who can raise the most for Free Arts NYC.”
“Bring it,” Avi challenged, chest-bumping Jonah. “Your velvet-wearing ass is toast.”
“Hey, now. I don’t need a sharp suit. Just sharp wit.” Jonah flicked Avi’s collar. “When did you wear this last? Grammy night?”
“Yep. And I’m wearing it to a bat mitzvah soon.”
Leah found herself entering a short hall between decks. A sign to the left indicated it was a floating photo gallery. The retrospective was calm and softly lit, and felt like a good place to get her bearings.
The three girls had been nothing but sweet to her. They’d brought her into the fold, chattering excitedly about the night’s festivities, giving her first timer tips, and pulling out all the stops, save for a glass slipper in their miracle makeover. Nothing she owned in her bag could’ve compared.
Nora had name-dropped all of the famous people who would be on board, and she seemed to know half of them personally due to working on Broadway since college. Talia couldn’t stay long, saying her kugel ravioli wasn’t going to fry itself. But had given her a quick menu rundown, including where to find items that would be exclusive to tonight’s event and in limited supply. Leah marveled over the precision and what it must take to keep milk, meat and parve all separate for the masses. And Libby had prepped her with snappy comebacks and witty one-liners to keep the J-Daters and players from trying to get too cozy.
The one thing none of them had mentioned? Sylvie.
As a thank you, Leah gifted them one of the two Mahjong sets she had stashed in her bag – after jettisoning Avi’s road clothes from it – while he’d handled the valet. The game had a special Hanukkah theme woven into the traditional tile style.
“Now all you need is a fourth player,” she’d said. All three had exchanged looks, but still, no one brought up Sylvie.
The name was on her mind and on her lips as she explored the boat and got used to tottering around in kitten heels on decks that didn’t feel quite horizontal at times.
The sights were dizzying. No wonder the event was an eight-hour affair. Huge heat lamps made the outside just as cozy and festive as the interiors, where each room was decked out and decorated, some by theme. In just her cursory walk-through, she’d noticed a cookie decorating station being set up, a photo booth already drawing a crowd, and bubbles and balloons everywhere. The glow-in-the-dark section with various activities was definitely on her list to check out later. And hopefully Avi or someone could explain the whole Spinagogue thing, which looked like a championship dreidel tournament of some kind.
She texted Jasmine.
On the boat. What do you think of a glow-in-the-dark Mahj set?
Jasmine
Girl, I think you can pull just about anything off!
It was actually helping Leah recalibrate, looking at photo documentation of previous Ballers as she meandered in the gallery. People obviously got their money’s worth drinking well into the night, judging from their dancing photos.
Some of the pictures were taken on land, too – but Leah recognized some of the major players. Talia and Nora, out with their men in a diner booth. The black and white timelessness of the photo only broken by a cell phone in one of the girl’s hands.
Avi’s friend Jay, the mastermind of the Matzo Baller, was also in one. He was holding the hand of a stunning woman with bobbed brown hair, escorting her through a doorway. A bar, Leah assumed, noticing the name ASHER’S above it. The woman’s smile accentuated her already high cheekbones as she looked forward, directly into the camera. Freshly printed, matted and framed, according to the very recent date on the placard beneath it.
Oh, but the ones of Avi. He had an entire wall to himself, and she couldn’t help but gravitate back to them. She bit back a smile at the first image.
Avi must’ve been barely twenty, leaning against a tree and cradling an acoustic guitar like it was his talisman against the world. She recognized the split trunk and outward growth of leaves; it was an olive tree. He must be in Israel here . His hair, looking like it defied both gravity and a good brushing, tumbled in long, dark waves – framing a face equal parts defiant and vulnerable. Leah couldn’t detect any tattoos yet, just a lean, wiry intensity and that gaze: direct and smoldering, as if he were hungry for something beyond the frame.
Her gaze traveled to the next photo. His guyliner phase, apparently. Avi front and center, sweat-slicked and shining under lights on a small stage, curls plastered to his forehead in wild strands. In mid-guitar solo, every muscle of his body taut with the moment.
“I can see why some people would want to gobble him up with a spoon.” Two older women had come into the floating gallery hall, moving down the row with drinks in their hands and a running commentary from their mouths.
“Eh, it’s an acquired taste,” said the other. She was wearing a sequined BALLER FOR LIFE sweater and dangling earrings that were tiny matzo balls, which swung as she laughed with her friend. “Come on, let’s go check out the other auction items.”
Leah waited until she was alone again before turning back to the display wall, her gaze pulled in by an arresting black-and-white image.
He was leaning into the mic, lips parted and lush with feeling; the raw, electric kind. Even in the still image, Leah felt the buzz; the heat of his presence. His fingers, adorned with heavy silver rings, clutched the mic like it was his lifeline. The caption on the placard beneath it titled the piece “SILVER, BLUE AND GOLD,” and indicated it had been taken on the boat just the year before.
The final photo felt like a pause in the timeline. A little too recent for Leah’s comfort. She wasn’t ready for it.
Avi, not on stage. But rather, sitting barefoot in jeans, forearms resting easily on his raised knees. Surrounded by all white – the padded headboard he leaned against, the hint of rumpled sheets and luxurious pillows, and a billowing duvet that had been pushed aside.
His curls were shorter, but still unruly enough to tempt her fingers. She studied the traitorous curve of his mouth, caught mid-smirk, like he’d just shared a joke with the camera – or perhaps the person behind it.
Tattoos now bloomed, artfully winding up both arms – the same inked tapestry Leah had traced with her fingertips only hours before. Beneath the familiar challenge in his gaze, she noticed something softer, an unguarded tenderness.
“That one may just be my favorite.” A soft voice broke through her reverie. Another passenger had wandered in. Her hair was as golden honey as Leah’s was dark; glossy and practically down to her waist. Leah got the feeling no chemical or flat-iron had ever had the need to touch it, it was so straight. “Yet I kind of hate it, too.” Her laugh was like a shimmering bell she silenced with a sip of her drink.
Leah turned back to the photo, labeled simply “VEGAS,” and nodded her head in agreement. “He’s like…the embodiment of someone who might drive you a little mad, but in the most fascinating, magnetic way possible.”
“Spoken like a true artist.” The woman raised her glass and toasted Leah’s airspace, a smile playing on her lips. “And if you haven’t tried the Hanukkah-lada yet, it’s divine.”
She offered up her glass. Leah automatically demurred, but the woman held it, and her gaze, until she caved. Notes of passionfruit sang through, despite the heavy slug of alcohol. “That is good. I’ll have to find one of my own. Is this your first Matzo Baller?”
“Nah, I’m a lifer. You?”
Leah couldn’t imagine this woman wearing a Baller for Life sweater; she looked allergic to the notion of sequins. Under an oversize cashmere wrap, her top was layers of silk in the lightest blush color, draped in a crisscross pattern with deliberate, delicate ragged hems that covered the top of her thin thighs. Her leggings were ribbed pinstripes of black and rose, tucked into tiny creeper combat boots. She looked artsy, cool and casual, yet right at home on the boat.
“Maiden voyage.” Leah laughed at herself. “Can you tell?”
Talia’s dress hugged her in the right places and hid sins in others, and its shimmering sea colors made her feel like a couture mermaid. Nora had coaxed her curls into a loose braid that wound glamorously over one bare shoulder, and had accentuated her best features – eyes and cheekbones – with a natural smoky glow. The tell-tale red bottoms of Libby’s shoes intimidated her a bit, but were surprisingly comfortable.
“You look ready for anything that comes your way.”
It was an interesting compliment, to say the least.
“Flying solo?”
“I came with a guy but…it’s complicated.” Now that all the driving and rushing was behind her, it felt good to confess this to someone, be it a perfect stranger. “I knew him when we were young but…he’s not the guy I thought he was.”
Her admission was met with a knowing nod. “I know a guy, he’s like that, too.”
Meet me on the main deck?
Ah right, she and Avi could text each other now. How novel.
On my way.
Shouts and cheers floated through the gallery from the bar. “Drink up, Matzo Ballers!” the voice sounded like Avi’s friend Jay’s, but she couldn’t be sure. “Candle lighting in five minutes!”
“You’d better go get a good spot, you won’t want to miss that.” The woman smiled. “It’s pretty magical.”