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“God, you guys. Stop. Beck is…”
Who exactlywasBeck? She realized she didn’t even know his full name. It couldn’t very well be Beck Beckman. Could it?
Great. She made out with some nicknamed co-worker. Twice tonight.
Might has well have been “guy in the third cubicle on the left.”
Now that she was on the Baller, and in the company of old friends, maybe thiswasmadness. They could chalk it up to two lone Jews bonding at a Christmas party, and go their separate ways. Stay at opposite ends of the boat for the duration of the ride.
Beck was cute, he’d find company in no time. And she’d end up in a cuddle fest by the end of the night with one of her Year Course guys as usual, like Avi or Jonah – guys safe to be herself with, no danger of hooking up. Just unconditional acceptance. No one she had to prove anything to.
Between the crowds, the lights and the interrogation, the heat was on. She barely felt the cold anymore. But now that she knew the price tag of her loaner jacket, she didn’t dare take it off. Besides, it smelled like Beck, which wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
She liked the novelty of it. Getting to know someone new. Maybe someone she’dwantto open up to.
“So Beck is a nice,richJewish boy? Ruth Ruben would be beside herself.” Avi grinned.
“New pact. Let’s not talk about my mother tonight.”
“Bubbaleh…” Jay did a damn good impression of her mother’s Upper West Side accent. “It’s just as easy to fall in love with a rich man…”
“And do you know how easy it would be to tip you off that ladder and overboard?”
So what if Beck had good – and expensive – taste for a Bridge & Tunnel guy? He didn’t have Manhattan rent to pay or thirty-dollar take-out lunch salads to buy. Nora knew it was snobby of her, but she’d lived in Manhattan all her life. She couldn’t imagine having such a city at your fingertips and living just outside its limits. It would be like…like looking into a snow globe all the time, and never getting to fully experience the magic inside.
“Go. Have fun. I’ll come find you later,” Talia squeezed Nora’s arm. “After I feed the tired, poor, huddled masses yearning to break free.”
Given that the boat full of mostly well-dressed Jews was about to cruise past the Statue of Liberty, it was ironically fitting.
“Speaking of suits…” Avi flicked Jonah’s collar. “How many black light posters did you have to kill to make this horror, guy?”
“Hey, just ‘cuz you look like a debonair, dead-sexy penguin doesn’t give you the right to throw shade, dude.” Jonah laughed and flipped the top hat Jay had donned for his emcee duties right off his head. “I’d look like a DC comic book villain if I dressed like you players.”
Nora tuned out the guys’ heckling. Maybe Beck ran the suburban field office? Maybe he was Hedstrom’s equal. She shivered at that thought.Stop, she mentally chastised herself. Beck had readily agreed not to talk shop tonight on her behest, so why was she stressing herself out with the intrusive thought loops?
Jay had called her a workaholic, but it was more than that. She tended to hyper-focus on things her whole life, and work just happened to be a big part of it.
It used to be something she enjoyed.
* * *
Alex had made his way to the west side of the top deck, but had refrained from joining the camera-phone-happy revelers snapping photos by the rail. Instead, he had taken a seat at one of the many pianos he’d spied on board. Instead of tip jars on top, boxes meant fortzedakah– voluntary charity collection – sat awaiting to be filled.
Jay had philanthropy down to a science, using art.
Des Moines had dozens of public pianos across town – street pianos placed by the Iowa Arts Council – and Alex had probably played every one of them. But a yacht piano?
Challenge accepted.
Soft notes were lost to the sea air, but when Alex alternated with forte, the sound began to draw people. The hush crumple of bills and clinking of coins could be heard as people came closer to show their appreciation via charitable donation.
Sometimes even he marveled at the stroke of his fingers on the keys, always finding ways to coax such powerful chords. He knew there was a brain-body connection, but his brain wasn’t always thinking such nice things about himself.
People began to clap, drifting away as he dwindled down Leonard Cohen’s most celebrated song.
“That’s beautiful, Beck.”
He turned to find Nora, his blazer folded over her bare arm.
