Jay had made everything look and sound so effortless when he’d greeted her upon boarding, but she knew what it was like when you had charities depending on you to pull through.
Hannon took a different tack.
“This meet and greet will be a walk in the park, babe,” he wheedled. “Come on, it’s for charity! Hanukkah Heroes. We swoop in, do our thing, and drink the free booze.”
“It looks like you’ve got that locked down,” Tzipi muttered. “Do you even know what tonight’s charity is?”
Or anything about tzedakah, for that matter?
“Yeah, yeah, Trevor-something. The Trevor Noah project. Love that guy! Funny shit.” Hannon chuckled and polished off his beer.
She ignored him, and turned to Jay. “It’s for one of my favorite charities, and if people pledged extra for a meet and greet, I do not want to let them down.” Or you. Or Kara.
For all she knew…maybe Kara had known about the press opp. She agreed to far more of them per year than whatever Hannon had said the required amount was. It could’ve slipped her mind. Catsuit and all.
Jay smiled, grateful, then turned to the ghostwriter, who looked like he was trying to make himself invisible. “You’re with him? Good. I advise you start sobering him up. Starting now.”
"You okay?" Max’s hand was still on her back. Warm. Steady. Everyone had gone their separate ways, leaving them in the salon’s hall.
"Yeah. I – thank you." She exhaled, tried to smile. But wondered how long he had been within earshot and how much he’d heard. The part about Lorne? "Hannon’s a wild card when he drinks.”
“You don’t have to make excuses for him. Who says facepalm out loud? He’s a total douche.” His jaw tightened. “Pardon my French.”
“Ugh, no, you’re totally right. Douche City.”
She had no idea how her sister could make out with the guy, fake sex with the guy. Even his hug made Tzipi want to scream. What made things worse? Lorne had not only been his stuntman, but had been cast as his body double in five of his films. It was like hugging an evil shadow. Muscle memory played cruel tricks on her.
"You shouldn't have to deal with that alone."
Alone. Right. Because she had him. Her bodyguard. Who'd just swept in like some kind of rom-com hero and saved her from her own spiraling panic.
Tzipi looked up at him. Really looked. The concern in his eyes was real. The protective edge in his voice wasn't performative.
He actually cares.
Which made everything so much worse.
Because whatever this spark was between them, it would fizzle out the second he realized she'd been lying to him all night.
And things were unraveling by the minute.
“You're good at your job,” she said quietly.
Something flickered across his face – surprise? Guilt? It was gone before she could name it.
“I get that a lot.”
Tzipi forced a smile. "Well. Thanks for the rescue."
Max put his hand up to his ear. “Yeah, man. Hold on a sec,” he said into the mic on his collar, before gazing back down at her.
"Keep sticking close tonight, okay?" His voice dropped, rough around the edges. "I've got you."
Chapter Fourteen
With extra schmear?
Man, he hoped the ghostwriter hadn’t jotted that line down.
