Chapter 5
Chapter Five
“You’re killing it tonight, my man.”
Jonah felt a pat on his shoulder as he jogged to the side of the stage with three of his improv class members. They’d just done a short-form scene that had had the rest of their small comedy troupe howling with laughter.
“Thanks, man.” The weekly level two class was highly casual and lots of drop-ins, so most of the guys resorted to calling each other “dude” or “bro.” The ladies, well…there were pitifully so few, everyone seemed to learn their names right away.
“One more for the night!” Sal, their leader, clapped in the direction of each cluster waiting for cues. “It’s the fourth night of Hanukkah…during an alien abduction. Whenever you’re ready.”
Jonah was born ready. Especially when a bit involved Judaism, which was rare.
But he didn’t want to be a scene hog. A girl named Xena bounced out onto the stage confidently.
“La-hiya!” She raised an imaginary…glass, Jonah supposed, given her Hebrew attempt, and that she was waving it around like she was about to sing a sea shanty.
The rest of the cast looked like deer in headlights. Did no one know how to play a Jew? Or an alien? Or both at the same time?
Jonah found his feet moving. “Drop your light-based technology weapon!”
His monotone delivery was received with a bark of laughter from the wings, and he could see his quick button had Xena smiling gratefully.
“This isn’t a weapon, it’s my…candleholder. For Hanukkah.”
Jonah mimed flipping through a book. “Humanoid. Dictionary. Says. Hanukkah. Is. Festival. Of Lights. Candleholder. Is. Menorah.” The troupe chuckled with relief. He sounded more robot than alien, but whatever.
“Yes, and…” Xena offered up the classic line, along with her palm. “This is my dreidel.”
Jonah covered his eyes like he was scandalized. “Humans walk around with their dreidels showing?”
Sal cupped his mouth with his hands. “Did I mention the alien communicates in operatic rhyme?”
Fuck, I’m committed to this now.
“Come up to our ship, celebrate your flame,” he belted out. “I’ve watched you from the stars, and I’ve learned your name…Miriam Rubinowitz!”
“And…scene! We’ll end it there. Thanks, everyone. Have a great night.”
“Thanks for the side support,” Xena grinned. “I was a bit over my head there. We probably should’ve reversed roles.”
“No way. Much funnier that the alien knew more about Judaism than the human.” He smiled down at her as they grabbed their coats.
“If you want to see a real menorah lit…Ugh, that sounded like the worse pick-up line ever. But seriously, my friends are right around the corner at Asher’s Bar. It’s become a yearly tradition there.”
Xena laughed. “Raincheck, maybe? I have to pick up my son from the sitter. Good night, Jonah.”
“Later, Xena.” He grinned after her. “Oh, hey!” He reached into his pocket. “For your son. If it’s not a choking hazard or anything.”
She smiled, accepting the small neon orange dreidel from him. “He’s seven. And will love it. Thanks!”
“I don’t always keep dreidels in my pants,” he called after her. She laughed, waving.
Asher had had a bunch of the dollar store toys scattered across the bar top the other night; for decoration or conversation, Jonah supposed.
His crew usually played with slightly more aerodynamic ones, and for much higher stakes.
He’d swiped a handful, and since he had a very large hand, he had enough to hand out to the rest of his classmates who were still lingering and chatting.
Like a Pied Piper, he had a healthy crowd follow him to Asher’s, where they eagerly stepped up to the bar, credit cards at the ready to keep their class high going.
“I got you,” Sal said, pointing at Jonah. “What’s your poison?”
“Tonight, just a ginger ale. Thanks.”
The four candles in the bar’s menorah had long burned down to nothing, but people were still throwing Hanukkah Hammers back.
He shuddered, turning and spying some of his people exactly where he expected they would be: in the alcove framed by a velvet curtain, under the moody lighting that gave Asher’s its distinct industrial-chic, speakeasy vibe.
A VIP section of sorts that Asher had outfitted with a leather half-moon banquette, large enough to hold a rotating number of their friend group at any given time.
Tonight there were, to his surprise, four of their original eight.
No significant others. Avi held court in the center of the banquette; a rock star sandwich as Nora and Talia sat on either side and talked across him.
Jay was next to his sister, scribbling something on a notepad.
Jonah slid in beside Nora, clinking his zero proof drink against hers.
Jay also seemed to have what appeared to be just a seltzer with lime.
Not wholly out of character for erev Baller night. It was amazing he was out at all. “Yo!”
“Yo,” Jay greeted without even looking up. “Can you believe Rebecca’s still got me writing lists, and she’s not even my assistant anymore?”
Jonah could believe it. Rebecca kind of scared him, actually.
She was a force – a force not to be heckled with, it turned out, and Jonah had made the mistake of singling her out last Hanukkah during his improv ninja act.
She put him in his place pretty damn quick in front of an audience, who ate it up.
He might have been mortified – had he been sober that night.
She and Jay had been dating for a year now, making her an integral part of their posse. But Jonah still wasn’t sure where he ranked on her list – somewhere between “tolerable” and “total douchebag,” no doubt.
“…Seriously! She’s cutting it close.” Nora was saying to Talia, who just shook her head.
“Who? Libby?” Jonah wanted in on the hot goss. “She’s still in Florida?”
Avi blew an errant Talia curl off his cheek and leaned an elbow on the table. “She’s flying home tomorrow morning.”
“She’s giving me the grays, what she is.
” Jay scratched out something on his list in frustration.
“Like you did last year.” He pointed his pen at Avi, before turning to Nora.
“And you started it, before him. At least Eli tells me he’s not coming ahead of time, and doesn’t pull the last minute, hey-Jay-hold-the-boat-for-me card. ”
Nora slunk down in the booth, but she had a smile on her face at the memory. “I had my reasons.”
“Can’t wait to hear Libby’s. Or, should I say, shake the guy’s hand?” Jonah joked.
“No jumping to conclusions,” Talia warned. “She’ll have her own story to tell, in due time.”
“Libby’s been averaging every other year, Baller-wise.” Avi slid an arm across Nora’s shoulder, then Talia’s. “But we three win the prize of never having missed one.” Jonah threw a kick under the table in the direction of Avi’s shin. “Ow. Oops. The four of us.”
“Stick to singing, sweetie. Not math.” Nora kissed Avi’s temple. “You’re forgetting someone.”
The table went quiet.
Doubtful.
Sylvie Shapiro – and what had happened between her and Avi on the boat last year – no doubt still weighed on his best friend’s mind.
Everyone, even Jonah, had assumed that their resident rock star had had a girl in every port, and Sylvie had merely been his in New York. Every Baller, every year. To think it had gotten to the point where Avi had actually proposed, and Sylvie had said no? No one had seen that coming.
No one currently at this booth, anyway. Maybe Eli had been the keeper of their secrets, their vault. He was the first and only one Sylvie could tolerate being around after…
Because after Sylvie, had come Leah. Coming to Avi’s rescue when he’d needed it the most. Leah was so good and obviously so right for him.
And not even Sylvie could find fault with that.
But Jonah wondered if this was the first big splinter in the faction that had been solid since the Year Course in Israel that had brought all eight of them together.
“She’ll be back on the boat next year.” Now Talia kissed his other temple. “Who knows? Maybe she will even drag Eli with her. Hanukkah miracles, after all.”
Jay slid his pen behind his ear. “Oh, he’ll be there. I’ve got an airtight reason he won’t want to miss.”
Everyone leaned in. Jay let them hang in anticipation, before slapping his palms down on the table. “People. Seriously? It’s the tenth anniversary next year. A decade of Baller greatness!”
Everyone murmured their agreement, raising whatever was left of their drinks and clinking them together. Another milestone, Jonah observed, coming at them fast.
“Speaking of airtight…the boat is ready to sail? No last minute fryer oil needed?”
Talia would never let her brother forget the time he had forgotten the one crucial ingredient that greased, literally, the Hanukkah machine and churned out all the delectable holiday food.
“Ready as we’ll ever be at this point. You and Asher are officially off the payroll this year. And you –” Jay aimed his empty glass at Jonah. “ – no harassing my paying customers with your drunk stand-up.”
“It was your idea to have me roaming with a mic in the first place. Past the many bars you have on board. And it was for charity, remember? We cleaned up!”
“Yeah well, I don’t want to lose a penny of tzedakah to a walking work comp case. So don’t bomb out,” Jay warned.
“I hear you, brother. Loud and clear.”
Jonah had learned his lesson. And he hadn’t, at least, harassed Kara Koff.
She had been cool about it, and kind. As had her doctor friend, who he realized now was probably someone significant in her life.
He hoped this year he would have the chance to apologize to both of them. Or at least thank them.
Nora nudged his ribs. “Gotta pee.”
And since ladies always seemed to travel in pairs, Talia squeezed past her brother, leaving the men on their own. But not for long.