Leah snorted. “Yeah, the Avi Wolfson effect.”
He covered her mouth before she could say anything more to betray them. Her lips grazed his palm, setting off a bottle rocket in his brain. Leah blinked in surprise at the familiarity with which he touched her, but didn’t protest. Unless you could count the tiny hum she made that he felt long after he dropped his hand.
“Thank goodness you’re here. We’re already down a few.” The worker tossed Leah a Sharpie and Avi two name tags. “Esther, you’re on balloon animals. You, my friend, are in the karaoke corner.”
Hannah shifted to grab something else off the table, and that’s when Avi saw the sign behind her.All volunteers get free meal admissionaftertheir shift.
Oh, hell. So much for their quick in-and-out meal.
“Looks like we’re working for our supper.” Leah laughed, penningJULIANonto the name tag he’d slapped defeatedly onto his hoodie. “Although you may be singing for yours if no one comes to karaoke corner.”
“Trade with me,” he begged. “I can’t…” He winced preemptively at the thought of all the kids trying to channel their inner Taylor or Drake. “I have perfect pitch.”
“No way. See you later, Julian.” Leah had affixed herESTHERname tag and was already making a beeline toward the gym.
“Don’t forget your meal tickets,” Hannah called. “And free swag on the way in.”
Avi mashed a free trucker cap withJust Here for the Latkesemblazoned on the bill over his curls, and pocketed two squishy dreidel-shaped stress toys.
He was going to need them.
Serves him right.Volunteering us. Leah watched with amused satisfaction as Avi meted out the microphone from the flashing sound machine to a group of tweens eager to live out their not-so-Pitch-Perfect dreams.
At least the two of them were coming by their free meal honestly. Truth be told, it was kind of fun to be in such a festive, thoroughly familiar setting after two days of intense Avi Wolfson immersion.
Although balloon sculpture was its own unique form of torture. The tiny inflation pump was fun, but once she was expected to twist the fragile things into a menagerie of animals, phallic-looking swords, and wacky hats…all bets were off. She tried, and failed, to swallow each shriek that slipped out when she over-bent and popped a masterpiece.
Finally, she settled on a hat of her own design that was easy enough – two triangles of opposing colors that she fashioned into a Magen David large enough for a child to push on their head.
“I’d be happy to be your assistant.” An older gentleman had joined her line, bowing low. “Rinkles the Clown, at your service.”
“Otherwise known as Sam Winkler, the jeweler.” The woman with him shook her head, chiding fondly. She held the shoulders of a young boy. “He can’t resist coming out of retirement to impress his grandson.”
Leah watched in amazement as the Artist Formerly Known as Rinkles modeled not only a parrot but a trapeze for it to dangle on inside a balloon hat. “You’re hired!”
For the next half hour, he called out colors and sizes to Leah with the importance and precision of a surgeon, holding out a hand as she palmed over the goods.
“Esther!” Hannah beckoned. “We could use you in the kitchen.”
“Go, I have my lovely bride to assist.” Sam smiled, clearly in his element.
Leah gratefully accepted a baseball cap, gathering her hair in a ponytail to tuck through the hole in the back, and washed her hands before joining the latke assembly line.Bring on the french fry hair.
“Your hubby is great with the kids.” A woman had sidled over, bumping Leah’s hip as they squeezed moisture from handfuls of shredded potatoes. Other women were in charge ofthawing bags of the frozen hash browns – a time-saving cheat that even would’ve impressed Mrs. Horowitz. Another group was whisking eggs, and still more were using ice cream scoopers to portion out the latkes for frying.
“Ah…” Leah almost slipped. “Julianloves the practice. No kids for us yet.”
“Has anyone ever said he looks just like that ‘True Love For Now’ singer?” This came from one of the women plating piping hot latkes. “From that video!”
“The one with the leather pants?” yelled a woman over the hiss of the fryers. “Who does?”
“Esther’s husband!” Hannah needed no karaoke mic. “Splitting image!”
“It’s spitting!” The fryer woman yelled. “Spittingimage.”
“Oh my God, Mom. You’re so embarrassing.” A college-aged girl bustled through the kitchen, grabbing a tray loaded with plates to serve the masses. “Avi Wolfson at a JCC buffet. As if! Plus, that guy out there isnoteven close to his height.”
Leah held back her laughter at the girl’s adamant assessment.
