Focus, Tizzy. You can be me, and I’ll be you.
She was Kara Koff tonight. Unbreakable. Untouchable. And definitely not checking out the hired help.
Kill me, Jonah thought. Just kill me now.
As if the dorky wave earlier wasn’t bad enough. What a time for his fucking contact lens to slip. Causing him to wink – wink! – at Kara fucking Koff.
Just throw me overboard.
He’d been chilling and minding his own business in his favorite pre-sail spot near the menorah. It was always the perfect vantage point to watch who arrived when, and with whom. After all of his friend crew were present and accounted for, he could breathe a sigh of relief and – well, in past years, have a celebratory drink to get the festivities started.
He wasn’t drinking this year, but at least he had Avi entertaining his eardrum as the boat filled. Jonah never realized how much his best friend sang absently under his breath until he had him on a dedicated channel. Unless Avi was trying to give Asher a pre-proposal pep talk with Queen’s “We Are the Champions.”
Jonah had seen the actress from afar, talking to Jay, then Talia. And had kept waiting for her date to materialize by her side, but so far, she appeared to be solo. Enjoying a glass of champagne and looking far more ethereal close-up than she had on the pier below.
Her dress looked soft, expensive and…floaty. And like the harbor breeze might carry it out to sea any minute. It billowed out when the wind blew one way, then clung for dear life to her curves when the wind changed direction. He wanted to rush over and wrap his tux coat around her to keep the horndogs on the boat from ogling her. But at the same time, he wanted to keep watching her from afar.
Who’s the horndog now?
“No time for losers…”Avi paused his singing. “Hey, if anyone on this frequency can get me a latke slider and a Dos Equis, you’d be a real mensch.”
“Channel four isn’t catering, Rockstar.” Asher came through as clear as if they were all sharing a pillow. “Get your own damn food.”
“Red dress at the port side bar. Absolute ten. Just FYI.”
“Hello? I’m about to propose here. And you just cohabitated, Avi.”
“Oh, that was for Jo’s benefit.”
But by that point, Jonah had already caught sight of Kara Koff, and all the chattering in his ear was reduced to the sound of buzzing gnats.
“I’m out, guys,” he’d murmured, transfixed. “Over and out till later.”
For a moment, they had had a moment. He and Kara Koff. Locking eyes across the deck. And then his goddamn contact lens had to ruin it. And now she was gone.
Fuck.
Now he had two things to apologize for.
At least the night was still young. Jay had yet to even announce the candle-lighting, which usually got underway soon after launch. Time enough to take out the stupid contacts and switch back to his glasses. And stuff his face with some catering in consolation. Avi had mentioned Talia’s famed latke sliders, and now his mouth was watering. To match his eyes.
He hit the men’s room to wash his hands, then fished the offending lenses out of each eye, swearing in annoyance. How did people deal with these things every single day?
He also stashed the IFB’s earpiece and mic in his tux’s interior pocket. Avi had moved on to “Bohemian Rhapsody,” and Jonah did not need to hear him singing about being a poor boy nobody loved, in perfect pitch. Once his hornrims were back in place and he could see straight, he hit the banquet hall.
The novices were heaping their plates with the first round of hors d’oeuvres, not having a clue that they should be pacing themselves, as bigger and better things were to come out of the kitchen as the night worn on. Total amateur hour.
To his surprise, right in the middle of the buffet line, was Hollywood’s It Girl.
He was glad to see Kara wasn’t just one of those famous girls who lived on salad and air, but…it occurred to him he’d never seen her eat on the Baller before. And there was a reason for that. There was protocol.
Talia always made sure to have special plates prepared for the various celebrities on board. Some preferred to eat privately, and Jay ensured space for that. Others had actual staff who not only fetched, but cut and even taste-tested each item before a morsel reached high profile VIP lips.
Not the case with Kara now. However she’d procured food and whomever had facilitated it in previous years was a thing of the past, apparently. She was taking two of everything, chatting over the chafing dishes as she passed the tongs to the next person in line.
“Wow, she’s so down-to-earth.”
“I wish I was that knish on her plate.”
