“Rach!” a male voice cried. “What’s up?”
I glanced over my shoulder at John, who had already turned away. “Um, hi. Who’s this?”
“It’s Abe.”
I knew an Abe? Oh. I knew a football player named Abe.
“Hey. How are you?”
“Great. So—I was thinking.”
Thinking people were dangerous. “Uh-huh?”
“This might be short notice, but if you’re not doing anything tomorrow, wanna have Shabbos dinner?”
I drew the phone away and stared at it. Had burly Jewish Abe just suggested we hang out? “Um—I don’t really do Shabbat that often.” Like, since I was fifteen.
“Yeah, I haven’t either since I got to New York. But, I don’t know. I thought it might be fun?”
He’d pulled out that puppy-dog tone again. Didn’t he have relatives over here? I could not be the only Jew he knew in New York.
But what if I was? He was observant, and I knew from past experience that spending holidays alone was depressing as hell. That semester in Italy, I’d spent Yom Kippur curled around my empty stomach waiting for time to pass so I could call my family on the other side of the world. I caved. “Come on over. I have a standing invite to a family friend’s place. Want to go there?”
“Great! I’ll see you tomorrow!”
After we hung up, I laughed and shook my head. At least Shabbat with Abe would be safer than dinner with John.
Chapter Six
Friday evening, I came home from my internship to find Eva primping in front of the mirror, her heart-shaped face stretched long and narrow by the distortion. “Where are you off to?”
She met my reflection’s gaze, her own smug as a cat. “I have a date with the lawyer I spilled paint on.”
Eva would. I tossed my coat on the couch, remembered Abe would be stopping by later, and hung it neatly on the back of the door. Then I frowned. Damn, I should have a mezuzah hanging on the doorframe. “How’d he get your number?”
“He didn’t.” She touched up her lips and fluffed out her pale hair. “He showed up at rehearsal and told me I could buy his dinner to apologize. I’m thinking of taking him to a hot dog stand since I have no money.” She grinned up at me. “You still going out with that nice Jewish boy?”
“Who are you, my mother?” I asked, as she slung on her coat and expertly knotted her scarf. “Have fun.”
“Certainly, dah-link,” she drawled, and then held up crossed fingers and grinned. “See you tomorrow!”
Since I only expected Abe to see the living room when he came by, I swept all my junk into my room and hurriedly neatened the couch blankets before jumping in the shower. Halfway through sudsing my curls, my cell rang. Just leave it, I told myself, wringing out my hair. They’ll leave a message.
On the last ring, I dove out of the shower and caught the call. Abe. My stomach dropped in disappointment. He probably wanted to cancel. “Hello?”
“Hey, so a bunch of the guys are interested, so I thought we could just have Shabbos at your place.”
I wiped a soapy strand off my forehead, momentarily stunned into silence. “A bunch of the guys.”
“Yeah, Mike and Keith and some others.”
“At my place.”
“Yeah.”
My exasperated expression stared back at me from the steamed mirror. Abe sounded so young and so eager. “Um—I don’t know if that’s a good idea. My apartment is tiny.”
“And mine’s a mess,” Abe mused, sounding less put off than I’d hoped. “Okay, I’ll ask the guys. HEY! Who has an apartment we can have dinner at tonight?”