“I kind of figured.” And she figured there was more to the story, but would let him decide if and when he wanted to share it.
"Now…stay six paces behind me," she said, lifting a brow. "And help me not fuck this up."
"Yes, ma'am."
She walked toward the ballroom, feeling his presence behind her. Steady. Protective.
Still lying to everyone else. But at least now they were lying together.
Chapter Seventeen
Now Jonah stood near the entrance to the ballroom-turned-photo-area, watching the setup. Backdrops. Lighting. A line already forming of eager fans clutching their phones.
Tzipi stood off to the side, collecting herself. Slipping back into Kara Koff like a mask she couldn't quite take off yet.
She caught his eye. Nodded once. Ready as I'll ever be.
He nodded back. I've got you.
Then Hannon Kershaw stumbled into view.
The actor was listing heavily to starboard. His Radian Prime costume looked cheaper up close – shiny polyester, a cape that dragged on the floor. He'd clearly been drinking since the last time they saw him, despite Jay’s warning.
"There she is!" Hannon pushed off the wall – although it looked like the wall was doing most of the work, propping him upright. He went in for the cheek kiss again. Tzipi stepped back.
“C’mon! Pour a little sugar on me, KK. Look at all the fans and their cameras. This is for charity, remember?"
"My ass," Rebecca snorted next to Jonah. "No doubt Reggie added a hefty surcharge that he pocketed. I can't believe he blew half his budget on securing this guy. And all his props. Jay never would've approved, if he'd known."
The crew had finished setting up a backdrop the Reggie had ordered. It had the "Hanukkah Heroes" slogan that Hannon had been bragging about all night, except...
"Wait, is that –" Jonah squinted. “There are like a dozen different spellings of Hanukkah. And he didn't use any of them. They can't use that!”
Rob Levin strode in like he was the lead in a school play. “Here, I have a banner, it's got some stars on it." He opened his big pharmaceutical salesman bag and pulled out a retractable banner. "Let's co-brand!"
"Excuse me! Hey!" Rebecca went full-on New Yorker, waving her hands and strutting as fast as her tight gown would allow toward the security detail. "No step-and-repeats allowed that display logos. Every sponsor Katz Event Concepts approves is carefully vetted. We have no clue what... ChaiCycle is."
"You're looking at the new face of it!" Rob turned, testing out the phrase with his hands as if it would be displayed on a billboard in Times Square. "Kara Koff for ChaiCycle™."
What. The actual fuck?
Levin gestured toward Tzipi with showman flair. "She's our latest endorser to sign on."
And Tzipi died a little more inside.
Endorser? The new face?
"I knew you'd come around, sis," Rob said, his Bobby Bloom smile bright and earnest.
All those autographs. Blindly signing Kara's name for fan after fan, so hurt and angry at Jonah, and at herself. For assuming. For slotting him right into a role. For falling...
She could see it in her mind’s eye, the pile of papers falling. Robby there to help her pick them up so she could keep autographing. She hadn't paid attention to what she was signing or who she was signing for. Mahjong score cards, cocktail napkins... and dotted fucking lines, apparently.
That asshole tricked her. And was currently shaking hands with fans like he was the Mayor of the Matzo Baller.
Rebecca planted herself between Rob and the backdrop setup. "No soliciting or advertising products on this ship. Verboten!"
"Fine." Rob didn't miss a beat. He held up his hands in mock surrender, that Bobby Bloom charm dialed to eleven. "I'm a good sport. Reggie said the samples were okay to hand out, but hey, I respect the rules."
