Fate and Ms. Fortune (24 page)

We hadn’t intended to join the procession to the cemetery, or even decided about paying a
shivah
call, as we had no idea where it would be held. Judy no longer had a home in New York, Ken was in no position to entertain, and Seth and Madeline were living in a tiny studio near the UN until their co-op was ready.

But once Judy had the three of us in her possession, she wasn’t letting go.

And so it was that we spent the most difficult day of the Danziger family’s lives with them, and oddly, didn’t feel like outsiders. Howie’s brother and sister-in-law, Dave and Andrea,
were especially gracious, insisting we come for dinner as the
shivah
would be held at their home in nearby Bellmore.

It seemed that most of the day was a blur of tears, hand holding, reminiscing, the occasional laugh, and as any Jew knows, food, and lots of it. And it was during one of those familiar, comfortable moments around the dining room table, when hungry guests piled their plates and talked about sports, weather, or anything that didn’t dwell on death, that I noticed Ken smiling at me with tears in his eyes.

It was the first time I felt hopeful that he thought of me as the winner and Mira, the runner-up.

“S
O WHAT’S THE LATEST
with your parents?” Ken punched up the pillows to find a comfortable position on the couch, though just being back home made it good enough.

“I wish I knew.” I collapsed next to him. “The funeral was the first time they were together in three weeks.”

“How was it?”

“I guess okay. They stuck together the whole time, but it had to be hard. Being back near Oceanside and seeing the old neighbors, knowing it was your dad’s funeral…”

“Hopefully they’ll work things out.”

“No kidding…if my mother doesn’t move out soon, I’m looking at a lifetime sentence.”

“Why? She wouldn’t eventually get her own place?”

“No, I’d have to kill her and end up behind bars.”

Ken laughed.

“Although she did go home yesterday…She said it was to pick up more clothes and check her mail, but she’s still there, so who knows?”

Rookie barked as if to say, Hey, don’t leave me out. I want to hang too.

“So we meet again, Bond.” I imitated Sean Connery.

“I can’t believe how much he likes you.” Ken watched him snuggle on my lap.

“You would too if I gave you extra green treats.”

“I like you fine.” He tousled my hair.

“Really? You’d never know it.”

“And here it comes. The lecture.”

“Nope. Not gonna tell you how low rent it was not to call me. I’m just gonna sit here and feel sorry for you because I know how much it pisses you off!”

Rookie growled at Ken.

“Thatta boy.” I kissed his wet nose. “Who’s your daddy?”

It was Sunday evening, nearly a week since Ken’s father passed, and in that time, we’d had many similar-sounding exchanges.

They began after the funeral, when Ken would call from his uncle’s house to chat, perhaps because he needed a breather from hovering family and friends, or because I was already familiar with his no-pity policy.

How ironic though. After I’d waited all those weeks for him to pick up the goddamn phone, now he was calling daily, which made me wonder. Was he sincerely trying to build on a friendship or did he have an agenda? Sure enough, he asked my help in making a shivah in the city for him, and my stomach turned.

Shivah was just another name for long, loud, all-day open houses where your nearest and dearest paid their respects by gathering for cake and coffee while keeping an eye on the score of the Knicks game.

But the real issue wasn’t the prep work, it was that he had already played his user card. Was I that gullible that I would
jump in and be Ms. Fix-It again, only to never be properly thanked? I was so conflicted, I consulted with my panel of experts:

Rachel: “Who cares what his motives are for asking? Half of Showtime will be there.”

Julia: “I feel bad for him, but I wouldn’t do it. You’re not a caterer, you’re a date. Well not a date yet, but how are you ever going to be one if he thinks of you as a caterer?”

My mom: “How many kugels should I make? Oh and should I make my fancy Jell-O mold?”

Even Gretchen weighed in with an opinion: “Do it…Just borrow my Versace jeans and that little pink Dolce sweater so you’re the hottest chick there.”

“Thanks, but isn’t it kind of slutty for me? All you’ll see are boobs.”

“Robyn, darlin’. Name two things that are wrong with that?”

As it turned out, I was glad I took Gretchen’s advice, for it didn’t take long to realize that this wasn’t going to be an ordinary shivah. Not when a ten-tier fruit basket sent by Billy and Janice Crystal was delivered. Not when twenty-three women showed up within the first hour, all with bakery boxes and an agenda: Find out who Ken was dating and if it was serious.

“Do you know all of these people?” I whispered to him as I passed by.

“Some are from work, two I know from physical therapy, the rest I have no idea.”

Just then he was hugged by a tall redhead in tears who was so sorry to hear about his grandfather. And a tiny blond in leopard pants who introduced herself as a Kabbalist and said he needed a red string to protect him from the Evil Eye, and any time he wanted to learn where he came from
and why he was here, she would help him unravel the mystery of life.

“That is so neat.” I handed her a wineglass. “Do you know Madonna?”

This wasn’t a shivah call. It was Jewish speed dating. Grab a bagel and a boy and give him five minutes to impress you or move on.

I guess by virtue of the fact that I was working the kitchen, no one suspected me as competition, though if they’d paid closer attention, they might have wondered how a server living on hourly wages could afford Versace and a professional makeup job.

On the other hand, at least I could eavesdrop:

“Wonder if Ken heard the rumors about Mira Darryl’s hot weekend with Kyle in Cancun.”

“See that girl in the corner? Isn’t she the
Dateline
producer he was dating? God, she is so not his type.”

I slunk back into the kitchen, broke open a tray of brownies and stuffed my mouth. Welcome to the Josh Vogel School of Painful Realizations…I probably wasn’t Ken’s type either.

“There you are.” He walked in with one of the few male visitors, a heavyset fellow with the world’s most obvious hairpiece.

“Is that a toupee?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. It’s a good one. You could never tell.”

“Robyn!” Ken had caught me with a cookie in each hand and bulging, brownie cheeks. “Are you hoarding the good stuff?”

“Sorry,” I said, blowing crumbs as I spoke. “I was starving.”

“She doesn’t get out much.” Ken took a napkin to wipe his friend’s jacket. “She’s so busy writing and doing her stand-up act…Honey, this is Mitch Kaplan from Showtime.”

Honey? Showtime? Oh my God.
“Pleased to meet you.” I shook his hand. “Sorry about that…I was just…”

“It’s fine…So Ken tells me you’re one of the funniest ladies he’s ever met.”

Yes, but did he say I was his type?
“Thanks.” I smiled. “It’s just not a funny day today.”

“Right.” He nodded. “Of course…Well maybe after you polish off the babkah, you can tell me what you’re working on.”

Ken laughed and left the room, but not before giving me a wink, which warmed my heart. But no time for sentiment. This was my once-in-a-lifetime chance to pitch my script and hope that Mitch didn’t hold it against me that I had the eating habits of a chimp.

To his credit, he listened attentively, and though he wasn’t sure my ideas were linear and high-concept enough, whatever the hell that meant, he was willing to let me come in and pitch it to the programming people.

I was so excited, I handed him a rugeleh instead of my business card, then ran into Ken’s room to call Rachel. Only to realize that this was one of Annette’s predictions…a cable channel would buy my script because of someone who knew someone who knew someone.

Frankly, I was running out of fingers to keep track of how much she had gotten right.

“That was nice of Josh to come.” Ken lay back on the couch.

“He’s a good guy. He came to the funeral too.”

“I didn’t know that. Then again, I had no idea who was there…except for my ex.”

“Really? That was brave. Doesn’t your whole family hate her?” I rubbed his leg.

“No. Why? Is that what Madeline told you?”

“No. I guess I just assumed…”

“It’s not like that. There was more than enough blame to go around…Anyway, I’m happy for her. She married a nice neurosurgeon, they have one kid and another in the oven…”

“You mean she came to gloat?”

“No…she and my dad were pretty close. I’m sure she meant well…I don’t know. The whole day was a blur…Anyway, how did Josh know about my dad?”

“Yeah. About that…He was with me when you called.”

“Where were you? It sounded like a party or something.”

“Of sorts.” I coughed.

“So what’s the story?”

“If I tell you what happened do you promise not to be mad?”

“Let me guess…This time you impersonated my accountant so you could find out my net worth.”

“I was pissed that you never called, and when I heard it was you, I put you on speaker phone…while I was on stage doing my act. I do this improv bit where I work unsuspecting callers into my routine.”

“Robyn! You are incorrigible!”

“Believe me, if I knew why you were calling, you think I would have done it? And if it’s any consolation, the audience was so mad, they booed me off stage.”

Ken snorted.

“What…”

“My dad would have laughed his ass off and told that story forever.”

“Oh thank God, because I thought for sure when you found out, you’d hate me.”

“I couldn’t hate you. Besides, even I think I had it coming. But you have to understand, after you dropped me off, I was in so much pain I slept for two straight days. And I really did intend to send flowers or do something nice, but the time got
away from me, and the more that went by, the stupider I felt…and then Mira came. And she just confuses the hell out of me.”

Rookie growled.

“See?” I said. “Even he knows a bitch when he sees one.”

“C’mon. You’ve never even met her.”

“Never met Saddam Hussein either, but I’m pretty sure I’ve pegged him right.”

“Well whatever. If it makes you feel any better, I felt awful about what I did, and then Madeline was going nuts on me, e-mailing me every day with gift ideas, but I didn’t think a spa treatment was any big deal to you. You’re probably comped all the time.”

“No I’m not…I’d love a glycolic triple-action vitamin C facial at Georgette Klinger.”

“Done! Now tell me the deal with Josh and that chick he came with today…She looked very familiar…”

“I’ll tell you after your hard-on goes away…”

“I’m just curious.”

“Yeah…if I can get her number for you.”

“Can you?”

“Yes. I can also tell you her entire life story because she’s my oldest and dearest friend. Her name is Julia Volkman, and the reason she looks familiar is because she was a top model at Ralph Lauren. Now she’s an executive there, but for years she was in every ad campaign.

“As for her and Josh? I have no idea. I mean the three of us all went to high school together, but she hasn’t seen him since we graduated, and I don’t know what he looked like when he was little, but he was one hell of a fat teenager…I’m talking huge…And follow me here…His last name is Vogel, hers is Volkman…their lockers were next to each other…She used to poke him to see if he’d deflate…it was so mean, but it was high school. Everyone was an asshole.

“Anyway, a few weeks ago, Josh found out he’d moved a few blocks from me, we got together, don’t you dare say a word about that, and then I called her and said he’d lost all this weight and he looked amazing, and he was coming to see me do my act and she should come too.

“At first she was like no way, I’m happy he’s doing so great but I could care less. Then next thing I know, they’re sitting together at the comedy club and they’re touching and laughing…and I’m like…hello? You do realize that is Josh Vogel you’re coming on to…”

“So you didn’t know he was bringing her today?”

“I would have been less surprised if Bill showed up with Monica.”

Ken laughed. “You think they’re sleeping together?”

“God I hope not.”

“Oh come on. It would be great. Joshy gettin’ it on with a super model.”

“Not this one…I just don’t want to see him get hurt…Julia doesn’t so much dump guys as she donates them to worthy charities.”

Maybe two minutes went by. Maybe ten. All I know is that we opted for silence over banter, and contemplation over kissing, though the pressure was building. Even Rookie was barking at us, as if to say, Do it already, I haven’t got all night.

But hell if I was going to make the first move, not after Josh told Ken about my naked-in-bed adventure. Did I really need him thinking all customers were entitled to the same service? Besides, a long kiss might lead to sex, and our first time was not going to happen before I’d had a chance to exfoliate.

“You were right, you know.” He broke the silence.

“Yay” I clapped. “I love being right. It’s so rare…About what?”

“About Mira wanting to make Kyle jealous…about her using me for that.”

“Oh. Sorry to hear it.”

“Yeah right. Help me move the furniture so you can do cartwheels.”

“Well aren’t we all full of ourselves…So how did you leave it with her?”

“I didn’t…I couldn’t…With everything going on…and you…”

“Me?” I sat up. “Really? You were thinking about me? But I’m not your type.”

“I know.”

I swatted him with a pillow. “I guess when you’ve got your pick of the litter like today…”

“Oh please. I didn’t even know half those girls…It was crazy…The people I expected to come didn’t show up, and ones I never met were telling me how sorry they were for my loss. And that Kabbala kook with the red string? Thank God that’s over.”

“Except for the food. Did you see how much was left?”

“It’s fine. Rookie and I live for leftovers…anyway, if I didn’t already tell you, thank you for doing this today. Every time I turned around you were running the whole show. It was amazing. You mingled, you served, you—”

“—ate all the desserts.”

“Yeah. Next time I’m hiding the brownies. That was tonight’s dinner…Rookie, enough with the barking already!” he yelled into the bedroom.

He tried putting his arm around me and winced.

I tried lying on his chest. “Does that hurt?”

“Only when you breathe.”

“Sorry.” I sat up. “Now go back to the part where you couldn’t stop thinking of me because I have to get home. Believe it or not I have to get up for work in a few hours.”

“Then stay here. You’re perfectly safe. I can’t even lift my leg without cringing.”

“Can’t. My set kit is home and I can’t show up for work without it. Every makeup product I own is in that bag.”

“Got it…It’s just that…Look, I still need help getting dressed…Rookie pitches in, and he’s got the whole fetch-the-socks thing down, but shirt buttoning is for the more advanced dogs…I don’t want to hurt his feelings. Plus, you’ve already seen the merchandise.”