“I don’t know how to make that one, but I bet my boss does. Hey, Stein! What’s in a paradise cocktail?”
Jonah looked in the direction the bartender was shouting, and saw Asher rolling up. Literally, with a hand-cart of liquor boxes.
“Oh, hey! It’s my man, Maximum Deduction.” Asher grinned and high-fived Jonah from behind the small bar. “And good evening, Miss Koff. One paradise cocktail coming up. It’s basically gin and juice.”
Great, now he had the old Snoop song stuck in his head. Lyrics too dirty to repeat, so he tapped the bar in time as Asher took charge and his worker watched and learned.
Jonah was impressed, as always, as Asher pulled bottles, poured from high, shook from down low, and garnished artfully. His friend was burning off a bit of nervous energy, only noticeable in the shake of his fingers as he twisted an orange peel over Kara’s cocktail.
“Long night, man?”
“The longest.”
Jonah knew for a fact Asher – like Talia and the others – wasn’t officially working tonight. But since Avi had commented it was “all hands on deck” in the absence of Jay’s assistant, the libations master must’ve been put to work in some capacity, and maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.
“One for me, too – hold the gin. Heavy on the juice.”
Asher pulled an identical coupe glass and gave Jonah’s version the same attention to detail.
“Yeah, no alcohol for ol’ Max here.” Kara grinned. “Not while he’s on the clock.”
Her gaze roamed over him and his brain emptied out.
“Nah, he’s just atoning for his sins,” Asher cracked. “Oh, wait, wrong holiday.”
“A toast anyway.” She clinked her glass to his. “To vicious circles.”
Giggling came from behind them: three women, about his mom’s age.
“Sorry, excuse us, but…ohmigod, we were always Team Rosie, back in the day. Can we get a photo with you?”
“For Team Rosie? Absolutely.” Kara smacked him lightly in the chest with her purse. “Here – guard this with your life,” she said, all diva-deadpan.
All eyes were on the actress as she joined her fan club, moving to the railing and posing patiently while one of the husbands took turns snapping photos with each of the women’s phones.
“Damn, Jo, look at you.” Asher whistled under his breath and unloaded a crate of booze from his cart. “Kara Koff in your orbit, cracking jokes? She obviously has you confused with someone way cooler.”
He knew Asher was only busting on him – just like all of his nicknames poking fun at Jonah’s savant-like ability to recall accounting stats. But in the tiny, insecure part of his brain, he had to wonder if maybe Kara did think he was someone else.
Was she playing him?
Or maybe she didn’t remember the drunk chump from last year after all.
As usual, the louder, flashier part – the one with a microphone and perma-grin – immediately started heckling it. Don’t make this weird, man.
“Yeah well, if that’s the case, don’t blow my cover.”
“Don’t blow your wad,” Asher retorted.
“Such a romantic, Stein.”
Asher cocked a grin, then poured himself a shot. “L to the C, buddy.”
“L’chaim, brother.”
He slung Kara’s purse across his shoulder, absurdly careful not to spill his drink. And took another swig. He had never had so much vitamin C on board the Baller.
They watched the actress sashay between the women, all smiles.
