Chapter 4
Chapter Four
True to her word, the sisters did “all the things” Kara had promised during their time together in Manhattan: Shopping, brunching, gossiping. And of course, the ultimate spa day. Otherwise known as a day in the life of Kara Koff.
It turned out, the chilled spoon hack had been just the tip of the iceberg.
There were countless products for endless treatments, and a score of loyal, discreet staffers to carry them out.
Tzipi needn’t have worried about how she was going to possibly prepare herself physically for “getting into character” in just the course of three days.
Mentally was another story.
Her skin was wrapped, scrubbed and buffed to a baby soft, healthy glow.
Waxed in one place, sugared in another, and threaded until not one rogue hair remained.
Nails, brought to the perfect length and impeccably lacquered.
Any torturous activity was balanced by the Zen spa atmosphere, the spa lunch in fluffy robes, eucalyptus steam and hot stone massage and, well… sister time.
“Tell me again why the Matzo Baller boat is the perfect place for me to make my debut as you?” Tzipi mumbled through her polished rice and crushed pearl enzyme mask as it hardened the skin around her mouth.
Her eyelids had what felt like cucumbers dipped in liquid silk saturating them, so she couldn’t even turn to look at Kara on the heated table next to her.
“You can just call it the Baller. For one, they don’t allow any press on the boat. And there are several zones where photos aren’t permitted. You’ll be seen, but not seen, if you know what I mean.”
Not exactly.
“Word of mouth will spread, of course. About all the celebs on board. People always sneak pictures. Low light, blurry, no worries. They take stories home. About their legendary Hanukkah night getting glammed up and partying at the hottest Jewish event of the year, spent in the company of famous members of the tribe. Trust me, I’m a footnote, not a highlight.
” Kara chuckled. “But I’m what’s called a Lifer.
An honorary OG. I’ve been on every Baller since Jay Katz dreamed up the event and opened it to the public.
He’ll seek you out, by the way. Just to thank you for donating. ”
Jay Katz. Tzipi did what she always did to lodge names in her brain.
J is for…Jewish event planner. The Jewish event planner loves…
cats. Jay Katz. Acting classes had ingrained repetition, and connection and context were key to memorizing.
And visualization. She pictured a cat, wearing a Star of David and captain’s cap, sitting on the prow of the boat.
Or was it the stern? Shit, she hadn’t been on a boat since Lorne’s agent took them to Catalina last summer.
“Just how big is this boat?”
“Bigger than your average sightseeing tour boat, but not like a cruise line. Like, three decks? Tons of activities, vibe rooms, food like you wouldn’t believe.
If there is fried kugel ravioli, that means Talia Katz is on board.
Jay’s sister. Have you heard of The Jewish Grandma?
I bet Erewhon carries her frozen products back home, or Gelson’s Market.
Anyway, Baller night is my cheat day. Eat anything and everything. ”
Unseen hands flapped a hot towel above Tzipi’s face before deftly wrapping it and gently pressing to soften the mask.
Kara continued sharing a steady stream of Baller knowledge that soaked into Tzipi like steam into her pores.
She began to visualize herself on the deck, witnessing the candles being lit on the giant menorah, hearing the music.
Helping herself to champagne from the tower of glasses. Dancing with…
The visualization stopped there. Realizing she was about to thrust herself into basically the largest Jewish singles event in Manhattan, she started to feel claustrophobic under the swaddled towel. Tomorrow night. She hadn’t put herself out there, out anywhere, since Lorne.
Luckily, it won’t be you.
True. She would be Kara. Aloof and lovely. Smiling and assured. Surrounded by…strangers?
Her sister hadn’t mentioned boarding the boat with anyone. Or that she was looking forward to seeing old friends. Or making new ones. Yet she could hear the fond wistfulness as her sister recalled what made the event special and unique, year after year.
“Shel and I met on the Baller, you know.”
It wasn’t until they were lounging upright across from each other, K-beauty firming sheet masks applied and sipping their detox tea, that Kara began to spill her tea about “having a moment” on the dance floor with a handsome stranger.
“I never thought I’d see him again…or at least, not until the next Hanukkah if I was lucky.
Imagine my surprise when he walked onto the soundstage the day we were filming that crazy action scene, remember, the one with the school bus full of kids suspended in mid-air on a gimbal rig that I had to rescue? I almost fell right out of my harness!”
“Was he the set medic?” Tzipi remembered some sort of EMT always on the Room to Bloom set in the event something happened, but nothing ever had.
“No, but they’d needed a medical consultant for that scene, since it was supposed to be a pediatric mass casualty incident. God, he was so hot,” she gushed.
Tzipi couldn’t hold in her giggle; her sister thirsting over her fiancé in that moment of make-believe peril, all through the mouth slit of what looked like a glow-in-the-dark Luchador mask. The oversized eye holes kept shifting as her brows moved to match her enthusiasm.
“What’s so funny?”
“You look like the ghost of Nacho Libre in that thing.”
“Well, I’m looking in a mirror then,” her sister shot back, giving Tzipi a little kick to the shin with her pedicure flipflop.
Tzipi supposed it was true, in her matching cold and clammy mask that smelled faintly of grass clippings in the morning dew.
“And don’t knock the chlorophyll and snail mucin combo, it’s very restorative.”
“Snail what?” If a trail of snail snot was her sister’s beauty secret this whole time, she was going to throw a jade roller at her towel-turbaned head.
Kara laughed. “It’s filtered. But really, who would’ve thought all those snails we let crawl up our arms in Dad’s gardens would be the next skincare trend?”
“And who would’ve thought you’d end up with an off-screen civilian, and I’d be the one falling for a fall guy?”
Lorne was probably considered “below the line” by most actors of Kara’s stature, but he had been way more than just a day-player in the industry.
In stunt double circles, he was legendary.
A versatile performer with a gift for incredible physical comedy and mind-blowing stunt work, never breaking his stone-faced expression.
He’d reminded Tzipi of a modern-day Buster Keaton.
Like from those old movies she used to watch with her mom back when she was trying to detox after Room to Bloom.
Probably half the reason why she fell in love with him.
“You doing okay, though?” Kara’s soft-spoken query roused her from the memory. “Tizzy, I’m sorry I wasn’t there…that I haven’t been there for you more.”
The reality of it all made Tzipi lightheaded; the chlorophyll mask suddenly like chloroform, making her woozy.
Luckily, their estheticians swooped back in to carefully peel off the sheets, massaging the remaining serum into their faces so they could move on to the next step in Operation Whatever-the-hell-had-possessed-her-to-agree-to-this.
“You’re always with me,” Tzipi reasoned, as they made their way back to the locker room to change. It was true. In her heart and her mind, the twin bond transcended distance and time.
She’d need that this weekend, even without Kara by her side. His birthday coming, whether she was ready or not.
And Lorne was always with her, too. In the cluster of wildflowers she had had inked on her shoulder blade by his favorite tattoo artist after the first anniversary – a chaotic bouquet that was like him, so unpredictable, so free.
She’d wanted something alive, something that didn’t scream grief to anyone else.
With one subtle forget-me-not blooming up from the center to honor his memory.
It was perfect.
“Ready for your time in the salon chair?”
Tzipi touched her short shaggy hair, held back with a bubble headband supplied by the spa. The moment of reckoning had come. The crowning glory that would make her as recognizable at a glance from all directions – and probably from outer space – as the Kara Koff.
And mistaken for her as well.
As she shed her spa robe to change back into her street clothes, an audible gasp emanated from Kara. Tzipi whipped around, just in time to see the turban tumble off her sister’s head, and gasped as well.
“What did you do?” they each exclaimed in unison.
“I can’t believe you got a tattoo and didn’t tell me!”
“It was just…”
It was certainly not just a whim. But not wholly planned either. Intensely personal, but not exactly a secret.
“…just something that slipped my mind in the moment. You were starting to film, we were on opposite schedules.” Her eyes roamed over her twin’s head. “I can’t believe you actually chopped all your hair off!”
Actually, she could believe it. Kara had never half-assed a role in her life. But still.
Her sister shrugged like losing seven inches of A-list Hollywood hair was no big deal. “You’re being me. So I should be you, no?”
While Tzipi was busy getting polished like the Tin Man in the merry old land of Oz, Kara must’ve snuck off to the salon chair.
The resulting new look was stylishly sassy.
An ash blonde pixie shag framed her sister’s face in a tousled, carefree way.
Tzipi didn’t think her own hair ever looked that cute, but then again…
Kara looked more like her at that moment than she looked like Kara.