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?”
