A sleek, black Jaguar sedan purred up to the curb before them. Its tinted windows gave it a stealth ninja vibe, like the entire thing had been dipped in Vantablack. The darkest substance on earth.
Kara’s alter-ego character had been named as an homage to the light-absorbing stuff. Shadow-slick, impenetrable, swallowing you up and leaving no trace behind.
The guy stowed her carry-on in the popped trunk, then ushered her with a sweep of his arm as he opened the car door. “After you, Miss Solokoff.”
Wait, if this guy helping her wasn’t the driver, who was –
“Tizzy!”
She practically summersaulted across the backseat as her sister peeled away from the curb and floored it, brakes screeching through the tunnel-like underbelly of Newark’s arrivals zone. “Karmit Michaela, what the hell?”
The presumed chauffeur guy was now riding shotgun. Laughing, Kara grabbed at his hat and dropped it onto her own head.
Tzipi clawed to buckle her seatbelt as her sister maneuvered the Jag past honking taxis, its engine’s rev echoing off the concrete walls before they burst onto the roadway under the night sky. “Seriously, what the hell! Do you have a death wish?”
“See? I told you she’s dramatic.”
“Says the award-winning actress. Hilarious,” Tzipi grumbled, leaning back.
“Welcome to the East Coast, Tizzy.” Kara had eased off the gas, coasting along with the traffic toward a glittering skyline. She glanced into the rearview. “I’m so happy you finally got to meet Shel.”
The guy turned to look over his shoulder, winking a blue eye in her direction. He tipped an imaginary cap, now that Kara had absconded with his. “Sorry, Tzipora. She made me. Herschel Ackerman.”
He extended a hand, and she shook it. Strong, smooth, lifesaving. Her sister’s Jewish doctor boyfriend. Now fiancé, Tzipi now corrected herself, as she spied the pear-shaped, glittery diamond solitaire on her sister’s steering wheel hand. The ring looked even more impressive in person than it had over video chat last month, when her sister had announced the happy news.
“Call me Tzipi. And I don’t blame you.” He looked better IRL, too – admittedly, seeing him in person and out of context, she hadn’t recognized him. Kara and Shel had been dating for a few years but as far as she knew, neither had introduced either to their respective families. Until today. “Mazel tov. And good luck with this one.”
Kara just laughed as she navigated them through the Lincoln Tunnel. “I’m sure you’ll get me back before our visit is through. But it’s not as if I could just waltz through the terminal unnoticed these days.” She shook out her hair, and the tunnel lights highlighted her golden tresses. “The chauffeur’s hat was a nice touch though, right?”
Tzipi couldn’t help it, she chuckled as well. And felt her entire body relax against the leather seat. She was here, she was with Kara, it was Hanukkah time. And magically, they were in Manhattan. Now it felt like vacation.
While her hometown LA was a sprawling city of gold, here the lights shot straight up, in between silver and steel. Kara seemed at ease, gliding them uptown and chatting softly with Shel as Tzipi counted the neatly numbered streets that took them up, up, up to Columbus Circle where the Mandarin Oriental awaited them. And red carpet service.
“No need,” Kara said to the eager valet through the open window. She pulled on leather gloves and slid out, so Shel could get behind the wheel. “Tomorrow?”
The kiss he laid on her in response went on so long, Tzipi had to turn away.
Bellhops descended, tips were palmed and finally, the Solokoff sisters stood on their own. Waving to the Jag as it turned out the covered driveway and back onto the city street, horn tooting.
“He could’ve stayed…” Tzipi offered.
“Nope.” Kara was adamant. “This is our time.”
“What first?”
“Race you!”
They were nine again, seeing who could reach the elevator first, fighting over who pushed the buttons. Kara knew the floor, though – and had the key. Home field advantage. Inside their lux suite, she collapsed on the King bed, while Tzipi scoped out the bathroom – double rain shower, sunken tub. Luxury bath items, two of everything.
“I’m famished!” Kara called out. “Room service?”
Tzipi remembered her bag from the plane. She brought it into the bedroom and upended it. Tiny pouches rained down upon her sister: chocolate covered espresso beans, upscale gummy bears in champagne colors, truffle popcorn, wasabi peas, salmon jerky.
“Did you raid the minibar already?”
“No, first class snack basket. Long story.”
“These are so cute. And kosher!” Kara opened the gummy bears and popped one in her mouth before offering the bag to Tzipi. That poor little bear, she knew, would be sucked on until he slowly disintegrated into a tinier version of himself and then his little gelatinous carcass would be spat into a tissue by her sister. Her craving satisfied, her regime untarnished, her waistline intact.
