Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
It seemed an unspoken agreement to continue strolling the deck, taking in the sights, yet away from the cocktails and cameras and crowds.
Tzipi pushed her hands into hip pockets of the borrowed jacket as they strolled aimlessly. Her fingers met smooth foil, two gelt coins. “I see you found the fancy chocolate.”
“Oh, gelty as charged.” He laughed. “That chocolate always finds me, every year.”
She offered him one, thinking about the first piece she tried right before spotting him on the boarding deck. Find Your Flame.
“What’s yours say?” she asked, watching as he slowly unwrapped the foil to reveal its mantra.
“Eight Nights, No Regrets.” He smiled down at it, then her. “My older sisters always had a thing they’d make me do with fortune cookies when we’d get Chinese takeout.”
“Let me guess: add ‘in bed’ to modify every fortune?”
She felt her cheeks flush as his brows rose.
“No, but that’s brilliant.”
His laugh was big and unruly, like it had a mind of its own.
A dirty mind.
She flushed, scolding her own mind for even thinking it.
“My college roommate always said that…it makes even the most cryptic fortunes funny.”
“Well, sex jokes are universally funny.” He re-read his fortune now, making her laugh. “What does yours say?”
“Burn Brighter Tonight...” They both waited a beat, before crowing in unison: “…in bed!”
“Sounds like you may want to see a doctor…I think they have a cream for that.”
Tzipi almost choked on her chocolate. Max’s quick delivery, combined with that smile? It got her every time.
“I was going to say…” He adjusted his glasses and bit his lip. “My sisters told me I had to eat the tiny slip of paper, or my fortune wouldn’t come true.”
“No!” Now it was Tzipi’s turn to be shocked. “That’s so...”
“Evil?” He laughed. “Yeah, they were merciless. But I survived.” He neatly folded the foil and pocketed it. “Saving this for later. In bed.”
Talk about merciless. She had a feeling he was going to tease her all night about that.
“Oh, pardon my reach…” His big hand carefully lifted one side of the jacket, slowly dipping his fingers into the interior coat pocket to retrieve something else.
She had a sudden flash about how precise, how gentle Max would be (in bed.)
Heat flooded her body, despite the wind whipping up as the boat turned to make the most of its current sparkling view. Could she wish something into existence? His lips, warm and full, on her…everywhere? Those big hands roaming, claiming.
“…earlier. I’d better check in with Ground Control at some point.”
She had been so completely in her head, she’d totally missed what he said as he pushed his coiled earpiece back in place. She hadn’t even realized he’d been without it for any length of time. The night was gliding by as swiftly as the current.
“You know, I have to say.” Max leaned his forearms on the rail and squinted out at the black water. “The first four nights of Hanukkah this year were kinda lame for me. But tonight…” He turned, giving her a half-smile. “No regrets. Like the fortune says.”
Tzipi smiled. “Same.” Except for this whole charade. But experiencing the Baller, helping Kara in theory, meeting Max? “No regrets here.”
Right here, right now.
“I’d like to think my luck will continue the next three nights. Although I’m not going to eat the foil, because I don’t want to die.”
Tzipi’s unbridled hoot carried right out to sea. Boy, this man could make her laugh. The kind of riotous laughter that made your face ache and your ribs hurt in the best way. She hadn’t felt that in forever.
There were a lot of things she hadn’t felt, in a long time.
“You never did say where Dr. Ackerman is tonight.”
His lips were close again, close enough to kiss.
“He’s –”
In love with my sister.
Tell him the truth.
“Tell me that hot doc is out of the picture.” A booming voice snapped her out of her spell. Familiar, jarring, unwelcome. “That you kicked him to the curb at last.”
Tall. Buzzcut. Teeth as bright and perfect as a white picket fence. Tzipi’s brain connected the dots and short circuited.
It was Kara’s co-star, Hannon.
From the movie whose entire marketing campaign hinged on “will-they-or-won’t-they” chemistry between the two actors who played Vanta Blackmore and Radian Prime.
Of all people. Of all the eight million people in New York City.
The last idiot standing.
Radian Prime on the Matzo Baller?
Not even remotely on Jonah’s Hanukkah bingo card this year.
From the look on Kara’s face, the guy didn’t appear to be on hers, either. The interloper had the balls to swoop between them for a cheek kiss.
“Kidding, kidding!” His cologne hung in the night air, foul and expensive. “Just messing with you, KK.”
“Hannon Kershaw!? What are you doing here?”
Yeah, what she said.
Something told Jonah he wasn’t here to commemorate the re-dedication of the Second Temple of Jerusalem.
“Great party, doll. Secret’s out!”
This event was than just ‘a party.’ Sure, there were non-Jews on board. But the Baller wasn’t like the St. Paddy’s Day parade, where everyone was Irish for the day.
He did not like the way this Hannon Kershaw guy left his hand lingering near Kara’s waist. He didn’t trust anyone with a Jarhead haircut whose hands were that lily smooth.
Hannon turned to the guy hovering next to him. “So this stone cold fox is Kara Koff, otherwise known as Vanta Blackmore. The yin to my wang.”
The guy nodded and scribbled in a notebook.
“Hey, no press allowed on the boat!” Jonah barked. Dammit, I should’ve said that on mic. Now that he had the bug back in his ear.
“Relax, guy. He’s my ghostwriter.” Hannon cracked his gum. “I got a memoir deal. Seven figures.”
He turned to Kara. “Catch ya later? Maybe give these ballers a little bit of the Radian/Vanta chemistry?”
The only chemistry Kara looked like she wanted with him was the kind that ended in a hazmat clean-up.
“Sure, yeah…love that for us.”
Jonah had heard Kara’s tone change from casual to cordial to even conspiratorial all evening. But this was entirely different energy radiating from her. Immediately she tried to rein it back, rolling her shoulders and tilting her chin up, like she had on the red carpet earlier.
“Hanukkah Heroes. I’ll even wear a yarmy for ya.” He winked. “You brought the catsuit, right?”
Hannon didn’t wait for an answer. Just threw his head back and laughed, like a human Pez dispenser. “Gonna go grab another drink.” He pointed back at them, two-gun style, as he spun off on an expensive heel. “Later, KK.”
Can I punch him? Just once.
Jonah heard Jay’s voice in his head, his warning back at Asher’s Bar the other night. Best behavior.
He watched Hannon weave and swagger through the crowd, like Moses on Vodka and Red Bull, trying to part the Red Sea. The ghostwriter trying to keep up.
Yeah. Still wanted to punch him.
“Ugh. The one place – and holiday – I thought would be a Hannon-free zone. That was…”
“Enough to last you all eight nights?”
“More than enough. Total Dayenu situation.”
It helped to diffuse the situation with shared Jewish history, pulling and blending funny highlights from a lifetime of holidays that the majority of the world did not understand or celebrate.
She laughed, but it sounded shaky. The moment before, with the gelt – whatever it had been building toward – was gone. She pulled his jacket tighter around herself, stepping back to put a respectable distance between them.
“I need – ” She gestured vaguely toward the boat’s interior. “Something fun, where it’s warm. And doesn’t involve drunk co-stars saying ‘yarmy’ ever again.”
Fun? He could deliver fun like it was his middle name.
“Good thing I know this boat like the back of my neck. Follow me.”