He went to Noble and Greenough while he was here. Figures that he’d be at a prep school instead of Newton North.
“I thought she went to Fellsway,” I said. “Isn’t she an alumna or something?”
“She went to Brandeis for grad school,” Vir said. “Dude, she has a lot of degrees.”
“So, you’ll do it?” I asked.
“That depends,” Vir said. “Are you going?”
Now, what did that have to do with it?
“Of course,” I said. “Rachel is one of my oldest friends, and Jason’s practically like my little brother!”
“Sign me up, then,” Vir said. “That way you can see if I’m good enough for Vinnie’s wedding.”
“You’ll have to get the kids to do party games and teach them dance moves,” I warned. “The limbo, the Chicken Dance, ‘YMCA,’ and the—”
“Electric Slide?” Vir said. “Sure, no problem. Whatever gets them moving, right?”
“Right,” I said. I had a feeling he was laughing at me again.
Rachel and I had caught up before the party. She looked great—natural tan, cool new cut from Tel Aviv, and she’d brought back enough Dead Sea mineral creams and potions to last a decade. Shayla must have briefed her about Vinnie’s wedding and about Vir, because she was up to speed with everything.
She was up on the bimah now, radiant in a retro fit-and-flare dress, reading in fluent Hebrew. I smoothed down my dress nervously—it was a periwinkle lace frock.
Throughout the temple service I had had butterflies thinking about Vir setting up at the sports club where the party was scheduled. Amy had hired him on my recommendation. What if he wasn’t good?
“Dad, I’m going to go ahead in case Amy needs help,” I said. Dad looked cute with a yarmulke tilting precariously on his graying head.
“I’m not going to the party, Mini,” he said, pushing his glasses up. “I have a conference call set up in an hour. I’ll see you back home.”
The sports club was a great venue for the party. The kids would have their choice of activities—swimming in the pool, climbing on the indoor rock wall, playing mini-golf, or shooting hoops on the basketball court. The staff directed me to where the dinner tables and dance floor had been set up—the indoor tennis courts, which had been transformed with decorations, balloons, and lights.
Vir was already there, setting up his DJ gear. It seemed to consist of a MacBook, a complicated-looking deck with tons of dials and buttons, and a pen drive. He was deep in conversation with Amy, going over the music, games, and announcements, but they stopped when they caught sight of me.
“Mini, thanks for telling us about Vir,” Amy said. “He’s been amazing. It was so nice of him to step in on such short notice.”
“Just good luck, I guess,” I said. “Vir, is that everything you need?”
“Yes,” Vir said. “I’ve set up the speakers and done a sound check. And the lights too—do you like them?”
The roof of the tennis court was lit up in blue and pink pastels—it looked awesome. I was impressed.
“I have to go make sure the appetizers are being served, honey,” Amy said, “but stay and chat with Vir. Rachel and Shayla will be down here soon!” She had the happy glow of a mom who has made it through half of a long-planned Bar Mitzvah and has full confidence that the second half will go off without a hitch.
“You look nice,” Vir said after she left. “Nice hat.”
I put my hand up to my twenties-style beaded fascinator in the same periwinkle as my dress. “You think? I made it, you know.”
There was that amused look again. “You did not!”
“Did too! And it’s a fascinator, actually,” I said, “not a hat.”
“Fascinating!” he said. “Though it does look a bit like a cat toy—my mum’s cat would love it.”
No one had ever compared my handiwork to a kitty toy before. Though I had to admit that Bobbin had swatted one around at Turnabout once or twice.
“He has nice taste, then,” I said. “And how can you have lived in England and not know about fascinators?”
“Very easily, it seems. There are a lot of them here today, aren’t there?” Vir said, looking around. Other guests had started filtering in, holding drinks and snacking on appetizers.
“Uh-huh,” I said, surveying the headbands, cocktail hats, and fascinators bobbing around on the dance floor with quiet pride. “I made most of them.”
“No way!” he said.
“It was for a fundraiser,” I explained, “for the American Cancer Society. I have an online Etsy store that I sell stuff on. The money goes to my favorite charities—the American Cancer Society, the Jimmy Fund, the MSPCA. And the royal wedding was a great time for a fascinator sale. I sold everything I had in five days. Lots of local people bought some.”
“I think my mum might like one,” he said. “How do I find the store?”
“Just Google ‘Megha & Me’—that’s the name of my Etsy store,” I said. “There isn’t much left right now, but I could make her a custom one!”
“Thanks,” Vir said. “You’d better go—I think they’re serving dinner. I’ll see you after the party.”
“Listen, Vir,” I said, suddenly panicking about his upcoming performance. I mean, Vir wasn’t really the loud, high-energy emcee type, was he? He was more kind of… laid-back. “Please do your best? It’s not like I don’t trust you, but this is a BIG deal for Jason.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, completely unfazed. “I’ve got this.”
“How’re you guys doing?” Vir said, mike in hand. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a feeling that tonight’s gonna be a good night!”
It’s all in the attitude, I guess. He made even something as overplayed as the Black Eyed Peas—Jason’s pick, if I had to guess—feel fresh.
In the end I felt really stupid for worrying—because, honestly, he was outstanding. You couldn’t have asked
