Akiva blinked. Was that the end of his pitch? He had cards in his pocket; he’d been practicing the whole flight here
The pool was kidney-shaped and very, very blue. Almost too blue, in Akiva Frankel’s opinion. There was something eerily artificial about the Miami Boutique Plaza’s pool.
Walking languidly to the drinks cart, he filled up a glass with shredded ice and held it out for a waiter to silently pour sparkling lemon water. He nodded his thanks and sipped it slowly.
The party was going well.
Zeida Hersh was sitting in a straight-backed chair that could really only be classified as a throne. Akiva watched him nod at Bubby, sitting in an identical chair with the women over at the buffet, who were sipping pink drinks and laughing about something one of them had said, probably his sister, Meira.
She had the most shocking sense of humor and could diffuse any situation in a matter of seconds.
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