Lauren Takes Leave (39 page)

By making her plans for tonight, whatever they are, Jodi
has unwittingly fucked with the space-time continuum of my universe.

“See, Lauren?” Lenny says, turning toward me. “I told you
at the airport yesterday that I had a feeling I’d be seeing you again soon.”

“Oh yes, I see!” I smile painfully and take two baby steps
away from him. “So very soon!”

“And why is that again?” Kat asks.

Lenny smiles. “Ah, Kat. How I’ve missed you.”

“Don’t tell them, Len. I want it to be a surprise until
the very last moment!” Jodi says, jumping up and down like a cheerleader. “Lee
and the kids don’t know, my parents don’t know, only the rabbi does…it will be
a
ma
zing.” Motioning to Kat and me, Jodi says, “Now, you guys go in and
let me work with Lenny, here.”

Great. My husband and my crush at the same temple event
with a woman who wants to kill me. I’m not a very religious person, but I’ve
got to believe that Someone is seriously testing me.

I’m not sure what I expected, but the temple’s ballroom
is underwhelming. Try as they might, there is little a decorations committee
can do to hide the fact that the place was constructed in the late 1960s, with
parquet wood floors, low-grade ceiling tiles, and few windows. Fifteen or so
large, round tables circle the dance floor, each draped in a gold tablecloth. A
lone, sad-looking mirror ball dangles from the ceiling.

I find Doug wilting patiently in line behind mostly old
people at one of the beverage stations set up in the dank corners of the room.

Kat slinks off to say hi to the side of the family that
binds her to Leslie.

“Would you care for some Mt. Eden chardonnay?” Doug says,
handing me a plastic cup with a urine-sample-sized amount of yellow liquid in
the bottom. “Apparently, it’s being rationed.”

Doug and I are good. We had a heart-to-heart followed by
makeup sex.

Then why do I suddenly feel so ill at ease around him?

“Lauren.” Doug clears his throat, as if he has something
important to say. My stomach clenches involuntarily.

“Mm?” I say, downing the entire shot of wine in one gulp.
It’s sickly sweet and will probably give me an instant headache, but I hold my
cup out for a refill anyway. Doug takes the bottle of wine from the bartender
and fills my glass to the top.

“Promise me something.” He places the bottle back on the
bar and meets my gaze.

“Mm,” I say, taking a kosher egg roll from a passing
waiter and popping it into my mouth. It’s hard to swallow with my heart lodged
in my throat.

“No matter how tempted you might be…”

“Mm?” I ask, taking giant gulps of wine while scanning the
room for signs of Lenny.

“…do not bid on or purchase
anything
at tonight’s
auction.”

“Oh!” I exhale. “I can so promise that!”

Doug does not look convinced. “You say that every time we
attend one of these functions, and then you drink some wine and peruse the
silent auction table, and the next thing I know, we’ve won a three-hour tented
party with a DJ.”

“In my defense, that was a good idea. But I did not see
the fine print that read ‘Good only on a Tuesday between the months of December
and March.’”

“And…?”

“And there was no way of knowing that Making Moves LLC was
bankrupt and would fold the following week.”

Doug gives me a lopsided smile. “You know what I mean.”

“Fine,” I say. “No bidding and no buying. I swear.”

We move toward our assigned table, where we are seated as
guests of distinction with Jodi’s family. I give my condolences to Jodi’s three
daughters, who are all dressed in shades of pale pink perfection, one prettier
than the next. Lee is setting up a tripod that’s cradling a video camera
directed at the center of the ballroom. He makes one final adjustment, then
takes Doug’s arm in a masculine, handshake-like greeting.

“Dudes! How the heck are you?” Lee’s laid-back manner is
reflected in his casual dress of jeans and an untucked button-down. His blue
eyes sparkle as he surveys the room.

“So sorry about Sonia,” I say.

Lee nods solemnly. “She was quite the lady. Jodi’s family
will miss her. On one side, she had a Holocaust survivor, and on the other
side, a Ziegfeld Girl!”

My mind flashes back to the Hebrew Home for the Aged in
Miami and the images of Sonia in elaborate dance costumes crowding her room. I
have a pretty good idea which history was hers.

“Oh, also, Mazel Tov!” I add, kissing Lee’s cheek and
sitting next to him.

Lee reaches for a huge camera outfitted with a telephoto
lens and begins to fidget with it.

“Hi-yyy!” Jodi, making the rounds, has arrived at her own
table.

“Hey! My beautiful wife. I made a plate of apps for you.”
Lee motions to a mound of kosher egg rolls to his left.

“Ugh! Are you
crazy
? I’ve been too nervous to eat
all
day
, Lee,
you
know that.”

“I do.” He winks at us, head nodding in agreement. He then
raises a glass of water to toast her. “As I was saying: to my beautiful, skinny
wife!”

Jodi rolls her eyes, her anxiety palpable. “I
can’t
take another
minute
of this. I’m going to get
changed
.”

“Changed?” Doug whispers my way.

“Yeah. The dress she has on now is just for the ‘meet and
greet’ portion. She bought something off the Internet for the main event.”

“I think I’m starting to like this evening a bit more
now,” Doug says.

Leslie enters the room and scans the crowd, no doubt
looking for her family, with Lenny walking in right behind her. I hide behind
Doug’s shoulder.

A man with an elaborately decorated tallith grabs a
microphone and stands on the podium set up at the front of the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. I am Rabbi Cantor—and, no,
I don’t sing!” There is a smattering of tired laughter from around the room; he
probably feels compelled to tell the joke every time he introduces himself, poor
guy. “If you will take your seats, we plan to begin the evening’s festivities
in about five minutes.”

“Awwwright,” Lee says, rubbing his hands together. “Time
to do one last check on my AV setup.”

Kat stops by on the way to her assigned table, waving hello
to Jodi’s daughters and then to Doug. “Shalom,” she says. “You guys have room
for me at your table?” she asks. “I’m flying solo. I decided not to invite the
estranged Peter tonight, for reasons linked to his obvious douchebaggery.”

Doug smiles back at her. “Hi, O’Connell. How was your
trip?”

Kat looks at Doug and, without missing a beat, says, “Mr.
Worthing, I don’t know what the eff you’re talking about. Excuse me for a
moment, will you?” Then she pushes past a nearby couple and disappears from
view.

Now, that’s one way to avoid the truth. I guess she’ll be
sitting at her assigned table instead of squeezing in with us.

Doug and I settle into our seats as the lights dim.
Someone pulls down a video screen, and the rabbi speaks into the microphone
again. He takes a small slip of paper from his pocket, unfolds it, and puts on
his bifocals. “If an MC Lenny could please come up to the front?”

Lenny is dressed in dark-washed jeans, crisp white shirt
and a midnight-blue velvet blazer that instantly sets him apart from the rest
of this crowd. He adjusts a neon-yellow yarmulke on his head that reads
Livin’
on a Prayer
in Hebraic-type font. He sort of leaps onto the podium and
grabs the mic from the rabbi, easily moving into a greeting of “Yo, yo, yo,
Temple Beth El! The
Jews
are in the
house
!”

This gets a tepid response, with only slightly more
applause than Rabbi Cantor’s joke about his own name. Lenny smiles at the crowd
and changes course. “What I mean is, what’s up?
Mah koreh
?”

“This kid, he’s Jewish?” Lee’s great-aunt leans over and
whispers to no one in particular. “He’s some kind of entertainer, like a
magician?”

“He’s an accountant,” I clarify. “With a penchant for
popular culture.”

She shrugs and waves her hand across the space, like it
doesn’t really matter what I say; she’s already decided that he’s an ass.

Lenny continues. “As many of you may know, this week, we
lost a wonderful member of our Jewish community, and the Moncrieffs—located at
table nine, can I get a spotlight on them, please, thanks—lost a beloved member
of their family. That is why Temple Beth El would like to dedicate tonight’s
events to the memory of Sonia Goldberg, beloved great-grandmother, grandmother,
mother, and friend.” He pauses as real applause fills the room. “Jodi?”

Jodi emerges from behind the ballroom doors. The spotlight
finds her and there is a collective intake of breath.

Because, ladies and gentlemen, she is breathtaking.

Picture a petite version of Cindy Crawford with a dash of
Fran Drescher thrown in for attitude. Toss in a black-fringed micromini spandex
dress, fishnet stockings, and patent leather fuck-me pumps, and you’ve got
one-tenth of the idea.

“This is a memorial?” Jodi’s great-aunt asks. “For my
sister, Sonia?”

“And so much more, Aunt Elaine,” Lee adds.

With a hand from Lenny, Jodi manages to step up to the
podium without showing much of her black lace underwear. Under the spotlights,
her makeup sparkles and her hair cascades in a shiny burnt-red mane. “Thank you
all so much for coming this evening to support us here at Temple Beth El.” She
pauses and lets her gaze travel meaningfully around the room, milking this
moment for all that it’s worth. “As Lenny just mentioned, we lost my
grandmother this past week in Miami.”

And then we found her
, I feel like adding.

“It was a tremendous blow to us all, softened only by the
fact that I had traveled to Florida to see her the day before.”

“As they say, timing is everything!” Lenny adds over
Jodi’s shoulder.

Jodi is only momentarily flustered by this unexpected
outburst and quickly silences Lenny with a death stare before turning back to
her adoring fans. “As many of you know, my grandmother, Sonia Goldberg, was a
Ziegfeld Girl in the 1930s. She was passionate about Judaism, gardening, and
borscht-belt comedians.”

“Which is why Morris eventually left her,” Great-Aunt
Elaine adds, none too softly.

With tears welling up in her eyes but not quite ruining
the mascara, Jodi comes to her conclusion. “And so, I have asked my very
talented friend here, MC Lenny Katzenberg, to put together a video montage with
musical accompaniment as a dedication to Sonia’s rich and varied life.”
Applause follows, with standing ovations. “Lenny, if you will?”

“Of course, Jodi,” Lenny says, taking over the coveted
spot at the mic.

And so, the lights dim once more and the video begins.

Surprisingly, it begins with an image of the entire
Cubix-Richmond family, seated on a couch in what looks like the living room of
their home.

“Lex Sheridan!” Jodi calls out to the darkness, to Lenny,
to the screen, to God.

“Is this a service announcement from the United Nations?” Great-Aunt
Elaine wants to know.

“Yes,” I say.

“Hi, Jodi,” Tim starts. “My family and I would just like
to express our deepest condolences to you and your entire family. It has been a
privilege and a pleasure to get to know you, and I’m sure so many of the people
in that room tonight can attest the same. Yours may not be a household name,
but trust me, you
are
famous to those who love you and need you so very
much in their lives.”

Jodi scans the crowd and catches my eye. I wink and give
her the thumbs-up simultaneously. I see Kat across the room doing the same.

“And, Jodi,” Ruby says, “the Richmond-Cubix foundation
would like to help support your temple’s efforts to assist impoverished orphans
in Somalia, and have decided to pledge fifty thousand dollars in Sonia
Goldberg’s name to this great cause.”

“Thank you, thank you!” Jodi says, blowing kisses at the
screen, although there’s no one really there to respond. I’m pretty sure her
thanks are for the notoriety as much as—if not more than—for the funds.

“Have a wonderful evening!” Slim, Leo, Leyla, Bette, Bubba,
and Didi say, waving as the camera fades out.

A low murmur of voices starts humming around the room as
people ask, “Was that really…?” and “How does Jodi…?”

Jodi’s mom reaches across the table to tap me on the arm.
“What was that?” she asks. “Do you know anything about it?”

“Not a clue,” I say.

Doug smiles. “Ditto here.”

I whisper to Doug, “See? Isn’t it kind of fun to lie like
that?”

“To Jodi’s mom, sure. To each other? No, not at all.” He
takes another sip of kosher wine and grimaces as it goes down. Turning back to
the crowd, I notice Doug watching Lenny.

I’m paranoid, certainly. I mean,
everyone
in the
room is eyeing Lenny. He’s over six feet tall and is standing at a podium with
a spotlight in his face and a microphone in hand. He’s just brought Rubix Cube
to Temple Beth El, for crying out loud. Everyone is watching him for a reason.
And that reason has got nothing to do with me.

Right?

MC Lenny is hushing the crowd and tapping on his computer
to bring Sonia’s video onto the screen.

The sound of Sister Sledge’s “We Are Family” fills the
room with its familiar disco beat, and I feel a little disappointed in Lenny
for selecting such a conventional tune to accompany the memorial montage of
such an unconventional woman like Sonia Goldberg. Then the music begins to
blend with something else, and suddenly, a rapper’s voice sings out “You could
never be replaced…to have one more dance with you, Mama…”

I’ve never heard this song before, but it’s perfect for
this moment. Tears fill my eyes.

The lights come up to thunderous applause. “Thank you, MC
Lenny, for that heartfelt homage to Sonia Goldberg.” Lenny gives a wave and a
curt bow from the front of the room. He then goes about dismantling his
electronics. “Now, to the main event!” Rabbi Cantor cheers.