Two Bar Mitzvahs (26 page)

There’s a certain rhythm in orchestrated chaos.

Technicians rushed back and forth, carrying wires and electrical tape. Rows of chairs were directed on wheeled carts. Two dozen helium-filled black-and-green balloons bumped together as they floated by on strings connected to their handler before veering off left. Another two dozen silver-and-blue went off right.

The second photo booth that had been so much trouble to hunt down finally arrived. Two men struggled with an industrial dolly as they negotiated it down the hallway. The man facing my direction lifted his brows, and I pointed to the room on the right, checking another item off the list on my tablet.

Ankles crossed, ass planted against the wall in the hallway across from the entrances of the two event rooms, I’d claimed the perfect vantage point to direct traffic while remaining out of the way. In the room on the left, Kristen and Suzanne directed the room arrangement according to our agreement. Kendall and Kiki manned the room on the right.

And thank fuck, Madison was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she’d heeded my warning after all—or the attorney’s. Regardless of the reason, things going smoothly today were in both of our best interests.

Darren had been busy all morning setting up sound boards and equipment in each room. We’d created soundtracks, but the boys insisted on live DJs, their mom waved a big fat check, and we smiled, nodded, and complied like smart little business owners.

Thanks to meticulous planning, unending emails, and double-checking confirmations, each component involved in running, servicing, or supplying the event had a role, knew their timing and task, and completed it with little additional direction. I served as the failsafe, monitoring the progress of both rooms to make sure nothing fell through the cracks.

I turned my head as movement rounded the corner, and a very important component began rolling my way. Forgetting all about lists and party coordination, I pushed off the wall to greet Hannah and her crew.

She directed Daniel and Chloe in steering a large cart that held one of the cakes. A smile lit up her face the instant we made eye contact, and my heart lurched into the backside of my ribs.

Every time she walked into a room, she struck me. Dark hair, bright eyes, killer smile the moment her gaze met mine. I’d cause that smile. And she had the same effect on me.

“Well, what do you think?” She gestured to the cake they were wheeling in.

Daniel glanced over his shoulder as he steered the front end of the cart, walking backward. “Hey, Cade.”

“Hi, Bossman.” Chloe grinned.

“Hey, guys. This one goes in the room on the left.” I pointed, holding the tablet toward the correct doorway with an extended arm.

I wrapped an arm around Hannah as she stepped into my side, and we followed the two into the room. Pressing my mouth and nose into her hair, I inhaled deeply, grounding myself in her tropical scent.

Then I looked over the brightly colored cake to answer her question. “I think it’s brilliant. Soccer, huh?” She’d grilled me nonstop about the likes and dislikes of both boys: hobbies, taste preferences, colors. I’d compiled the list of questions, then had the mother complete two profiles to give Hannah inspiration.

“Yeah. I went with a sports theme for both. That way each gets a unique cake, but neither can say they got something better than the other.”

I chuckled. “Wise woman.”

The cake was simple in theme, yet intricate in design. On one side, an empty orange-and-white goalie net bracketed a grassy soccer field. Players ran midfield across the turf. The other side had a life-sized black-and-green soccer ball flying up off the field. A sugared air wave with whitish swirls supported the ball.

“Looks great, Maestro.” I kissed her temple. “We’re about thirty-five minutes out from party time. You all set with the other one?” Daniel and Chloe finished positioning the cake on the far table and wheeled the empty cart by us and out the door.

She nodded. “Minutes away. I’m excited to see your reaction to Jared’s cake.”

I arched a brow. “Oh? I’m intrigued.” Winking, I smacked her ass. “Go. I’ll meet you in the other room.”

Before leaving, I double-checked room set up for John’s bar mitzvah celebration. Per our instructions, ten tables with ten chairs lined the perimeter of the dance floor. Between the tables near the side wall that adjoined to the other party sat the photo booth. Along the back wall were long banquet tables covered in black tablecloths with a line of chafing dishes that would hold the food. At the end, on its own separate table, the soccer ball cake was displayed.

Suzanne and Kristen each carried a handful of streamers attached to balloons, and they deposited small groupings of them around the room. The tables held a variety of masculine centerpieces, from black baseball caps with green-and-blue “J & J” scripted on them to commemorate the boys’ day to green foiled party crackers. Not a single flower was anywhere in the room, by the boys’ request.

Darren finished setting up along the other side wall. A friend he’d brought bent over the equipment, making adjustments. I walked over to check on their progress. “How’s it going?”

Both men looked up. Darren kicked his chin up toward me in greeting.

I extended a hand to the newcomer. “Cade.”

“Rick. Nice to meet you.” He gave my hand a quick shake, then shifted his focus back to the equipment, sliding a dial down the sound board.

“I’ll be next door for the duration if you need anything,” Darren commented to Rick as he stepped out from the booth they’d created. He turned toward me. “All set in both rooms.”

We headed out the door. “What, didn’t want to ‘pop-out’ in the Bieber room?”

The hard-edged rocker shot me a deadpan look, his shaggy head of hair and tribal tattoos making the question comically rhetorical. “Wearing earplugs at the party is rude, right?”

I barked out a laugh as we stepped into the other room. Darren headed straight for his sound booth as Kiki and Kendall descended on me at once.

“The photo booth’s not working,” they complained in unison.

Before I had a chance to ask if they’d plugged it in, they ran off shouting orders at people in different parts of the room.

I pulled out my phone, texting Suzanne.

Need electrician in Jared’s room. STAT.

Seconds later, a reply popped up.

On her way.

The parents of the guests of honor appeared in the doorway, John and Jared coming in right behind them, along with an entourage of what looked to be family and a group of boys and girls their age.

“Mr. and Mrs. Stewart, Jared, John.” I spread my arms wide, welcoming them. They were twenty minutes early, but we were on schedule enough to accommodate the incoming flow.

Taking a needed few seconds, I sent rapid-fire texts to my sisters and Suzanne.

They’re here.

And Madison still wasn’t.

Straightening my shoulders, I took a deep breath. Then I smiled at our clients.
Showtime.

Hannah and her crew wheeled in the second cake right before I escorted Jared and his father into their room. Both boys already had their official bar mitzvah at their temple, and, as if by divine proclamation, each boy held an air of importance, like the experience had elevated them.

My only comparison was when I’d gotten laid:
my
official induction into manhood.

But I understood their custom. My family had never been overtly religious, but my Roman Catholic grandmother, Irene, God rest her soul, had insisted that her grandchildren have exposure with the Church, even if we chose not to belong. To which my mother promptly exposed us to a variety of other religions, ensuring we were well aware of our choices.

In the end, neither Mom nor Dad went to church regularly or often, and none of us had ever been exposed to the Jewish religion, aside from a couple of friends at the club growing up. My learning curve for this double bar mitzvah had been a trail-by-fire, Google-aided endeavor. But the Stewarts had been eager to help whenever I stumbled or found a roadblock. Having helpful and understanding clients, who were invested in their kids’ happiness, made all the difference in a successful event.

As Hannah’s crew positioned the cake into the back next to the buffet, I gravitated toward this mysterious cake Hannah had teased me with. Catching flashes of sugar crystals in between Daniel and Chloe as they inched it safely onto its designated table, it wasn’t until I approached closer that I made out the theme of the cake.

Magnified into quadruple ordinary size, a regal black-and-silver chess set stood in cake form. As Daniel and Chloe wheeled the cart away, and Hannah inspected the cake for any needed last-minute repairs, I stepped behind her.

Needing closeness, but unable to sneak away with both parties revving up, I put my tablet down on the table beside the cake and slid my hands onto her hips, pulling her back into me—nothing lewd with kids and parents arriving, but enough to establish connection, possession.

She hummed a low note and leaned back against my chest, covering my hands with hers.

I bent my head down and brushed her hair back with my chin, sliding my lips across her jaw until I found her ear. My rumbled growl made her shiver. “I love the cake, Maestro. Reminds me of games we’ve played.”

My tone was illicit. While my mind meant the chess games I’d taught her to play, my body touching hers, behind hers, made me wish we could play all kinds of less-innocent games.

She turned her head and gazed up at me, smiling. “Thought you’d like it. With every stroke of icing, I thought of us. ”

My mind guttered yet again. I swallowed hard. “Stroke. Icing.”

“Mmm-hmm…” Her low tone was loaded with sensuality.

The new frosting condiment she’d recently added to our naughty pantry had a world of possibilities. In my struggle to be good, I tried to focus on the cake.

“Break it up, lovebirds. We’ve got a party to conduct.” Kiki grabbed our shoulders, separating us and shoving me backward.

I laughed and pulled both girls into a big hug. “Go be wonderful, girls. Here, Kiki, hold on to this.” I gave her my tablet for safekeeping.

An hour later, both parties were buzzing with energy. Music blared—
thank fuck
in my room that meant rock music. We all stood by the cake again, the one spot in the room that seemed to be home base when we needed to catch our breath and oversee the party as a whole.

My gaze locked on to a potential hazard. “A chair is being dragged onto the dance floor. I need to make sure no one gets hurt during the hora.”

A crowd gathered on the floor, ushering the man of honor into the center and onto the chair. I glanced up at Darren who’d just faded out a song from Metallica. The popular song of “Hava Nagila” streamed out as the room cheered and gathered to form a circle, holding hands.

Three sturdy men hoisted Jared, who was seated in the chair, high into the air and began the traditional chair dance. We all clapped along, shouting as they paraded their newest man around the floor. Jared had a perma-grin slapped onto his face, arms bouncing toward the ceiling, as he surfed above the crowd.

A couple of hours passed with various activities and dancing. I thought about checking on Kristen and Suzanne, but we’d decided to remain in our corresponding rooms to be available for anything the client needed. In the event of an emergency, we’d agreed to text, but my back pocket hadn’t vibrated once.

Kids lined up for the photo booth, ours done up with an edgy background for the theme. Thankfully, the sound-dampening panels of the walls and our room configurations offered enough sound buffer to keep Bieber away from the rock, as it should be.

Not one incident to report on either side. And still no sign of Madison.

After searching the crowd, I spotted Hannah behind the chess cake as she and Daniel carved out slices onto dessert plates. Not needed anywhere else, I strolled over. “Where’s Chloe?”

Daniel glanced up, the tips of his Mohawk vibrating. “She volunteered to serve the soccer cake.”

“She a closet Bieber fan?”

Hannah and Daniel exchanged a quick glance, then busted up laughing. “That’s exactly what we said.”

Narrowing my eyes, I glanced toward the other room. “I knew it. I sensed that about her.”

Hannah wiped her hands in a cloth napkin. “You got this, Daniel? I need to go to the little girls’ room.”

“Yeah. I’m good.”

Hannah grinned as I fell into step beside her. She arched a brow. “Gonna help me lift my skirt?”

I exhaled slowly, dragging my gaze over her body. She wore jeans and a dressy tank top that begged to be pulled down, but her lack of skirt was beside the point. “Thought you’d never ask.”

“Cade!” Kiki called out from behind me, sounding panicked. “The photo booth froze up again.”

I groaned, pulling Hannah in for a tight hug. “Damn electrics are cock-blocking me.”

She laughed and shoved me away. “Go. I can lift my ‘skirt’ by myself.”