Kara’s sister was in way over her head.
And Jay was in his ear, tearing him a new one. Avi was in there, too. Doing his best David Bowie, accent and all.
“This is Ground Control to Major Tom…”
“You’ve been MIA all night, Jonah. And then I find you in the middle of a clash of the Hollywood Titans? What the hell?”
“Circuit’s dead…something wrong…”
“Turn your mic off if you’re gonna sing, Wolfson. Or better yet…Jonah, I’m moving us to a closed frequency.”
Jonah heard a beep, dead air, and then Jay’s voice even clearer.
“You need to stay away from Kara Koff, Jo.”
“But Jay, she –”
“She’s got her own people on board to fight her battles. I know you want to play SuperMensch, especially after last year’s debacle. But seriously. I’ve got enough on my plate without you turning the Baller into your own action movie. I don’t need a class action lawsuit on my hands! There are hundreds of people on this ship, and they are all my concern. Reggie could’ve really capsized us this year, but Rebecca, thank God, jumped right into her old role and has righted the ship. All of our friend crew has stepped up. Except you. Because only one person is of concern to you.”
He had never heard Jay so livid. He flopped into an easy chair near the line for the caricature booth, which was almost as long as the one had been for Libby’s cookies.
“I wish you’d let me explain…”
Explain what, exactly? That Kara wasn’t Kara? And that she seemed to have no own people on board? And ghosts of her sister’s co-stars past and present haunting her every time she turned around on this ship?
Jay continued to rail at him. And Jonah continued to watch the woman he had spent the entire evening with, out of the corner of his eye.
She was pacing, she was texting. She was biting her lip.
She looked so much like Rosie Bloom, all grown up and in a real jam.
What happened to smile, look pretty, wave, and fake it?
Tzipi was busy on her phone, looking up the SparkNotes’ version of every movie Kara had starred in with Hannon. Sure, she had seen them…when they premiered. But not since. And if someone in the meet and greet line asked a deep original canon question and she froze…
“You’ve got this,” she whispered to herself. “You were an actress. Rosie Bloom! You’ve done this a thousand times.”
Yeah. Fifteen years ago. When you had a script. And a waistline.
“How long does it take to get a ginger ale?” A familiar voice rang out.
It was the striking brunette from earlier, who had been overseeing the props at the photo booth. Its Broadway theme had helped them with their ruse.
Now, the woman was leaning on the doorway to the salon, a hand on her stomach. “Oh! Hey. Have you seen – whoa, dizzy spell!”
Max was on his feet in an instant, but she waved his concern away. “Nine years on this boat, that’s literally never happened before. Beck went to get me a ginger ale but the lines must be brutal. You don’t –”
The woman’s words trailed as she paled, and she sank to the ground.
“Medical cabin, Beck…now!” Max barked to someone through his mic, dropping to his knees next to the prone woman. “It’s Nora!” Whoever was on the other end of the earpiece must’ve asked a question, because he followed up with “No, meet me there.”
“Hey, Papa Bear,” Nora said weakly. “And Goldilocks!”
Tzipi watched helplessly as Max gathered the woman in his arms, hoisting her like she weighed next to nothing. Her head rolled back against his shoulder. And she smiled wanly at Tzipi hovering close by.
“You’re right, JoJo, she looks like an angel from this angle.”
“Papa Bear’s got you, Nor.”
