1 Chapter 1

Jared was bored and hungry.

It was too early for dinner, yet too late to head back to his office at the TV studio. He had already dropped off the massive cardboard box full of branded gifts to the pre-school up on the fifth floor of the Jewish Community Center, and now his nose was following the amazing smells of fried food that wafted up from the kosher restaurant below. Jared walked down a flight of stairs and took a seat at the small, round table.

“Happy Hanukkah,” said the older server dispassionately as he wiped his messy hands on the black apron he wore over a white button-down shirt. “We’re closing in twenty minutes. Whaddya want?”

“I dunno,” said Jared. “What’s good?”

“It’s all good!” said the gentleman defensively. “The falafel’s good. The soup is good. The fish is good—it’s all good. Whaddya want?”

Jared did not even look at the menu, but instead returned a pleading gaze through his horn-rimmed glasses, asking the server, “What smells so good? That’s what I want.”

“That’s the falafel—best in New York. You wanna falafel?” The older man softened and became a fraction less impatient, as if he was dealing with a slow child.

Jared nodded. “One falafel, please. Is that kosher?” he suddenly wondered out loud. He had never tasted a kosher falafel before.

“Yeah, it’s kosher. We’re the JCC! Why, did you want it with bacon or something?” asked the server sarcastically, failing to laugh at his own bad joke, then spun around and went into the kitchen.

Jared took out his phone. He clicked through the forty-two new emails in his inbox—all from the office and all from people who automatically hit “Reply All” without thinking.

“Delete,” Jared whispered at his phone, swiping the red X on the screen. Then he composed a new e-mail, tapping furiously with one thumb…

Dear Simone,

Just wanted to let you know that I delivered the branded presents and cookies to UWS JCC. Pre-school is grateful, sends thanks and holiday wishes. Asked if there’s any way we can get 4-year-old class in for a live taping of Peachy’s Nest? 30 students max + 3 teachers. Made no promises but said we’d let them know by the end of the year.

Headed home now, because Hanukkah.

See you tomorrow.

J

Jared loved how Jewish holidays could serve as a blanket excuse to pretty much get him out of anything. His boss, Simone, was Latina and Catholic and clueless when it came to anything Jewish. The year before, when he found out that his favorite band Luminate had just flown in from Australia and was playing an impromptu daytime acoustic show in Hoboken, Jared had invented a Jewish holiday just so he could get the day off work.

“It’s MenukhaDay,” he’d told Simone, accenting the guttural “kh” sound.

She’d sent him home apologetically and assigned his workload to an intern.

“One kosher falafel,” announced the server, laying a large white plate in front of Jared. The food looked exactly the way it smelled—big and delicious and fresh. “You want anything else?” asked the server. “We close in five minutes.”

Jared shook his head and grabbed the falafel with both hands, bringing it to his mouth. It was so big, he could barely bite it, and when he finally did, warm streams of tahini dribbled down his chin. He chewed slowly—God, this is yummy. He had skipped lunch during the shoot because he was too busy running errands around the TV studio. Now he relished the food, cramming it into his mouth with eager bites, chewing, tasting, then swallowing every crumb with satisfaction. The falafel was gone in less than three minutes and he wondered if there was still time to get another before the kitchen closed.

Then he felt guilty—oh, God, I should not have eaten that!Jared was proud of his figure. He was only five-nine, and made it to the gym only about two or three times a week, but he kept slim, with a thirty-two-inch waist that looked superb in the colored leather belts he wore to work. That was his signature in the office—a different colored belt every day. Today he was wearing a shiny red leather belt over grey slacks. He looked good, and that made him feel good.

What was that falafel? Like five hundred calories? More like seven hundred with all that pita and tahiniDamn it.With his latte and croissant for breakfast, he was already at twelve hundred calories. No more food today, Jared told himself, standing and brushing crumbs off his clothes. Water and celery until tomorrow!

He would take the stairs. Stairs burned more calories than the elevator, right?Jared leapt down the stairs two at a time, his backpack bouncing on his shoulders. Then he heard the yelling—manly shouts and loud echoes, interspersed with the squeak of rubber shoes on wood. He took a detour on the second floor, opening a door that led onto a balcony overlooking the basketball court.