A Good Man (34 page)

“It was crisp and cooked, Bubble Bill,” Juicy said.

“I’ll bet they added sound effects to make it sound crispy,” Bubble Bill said. “You know us white folks don’t make anything crisp but twenty-dollar bills.”

“The chicken looked fine,” Juicy said. “I love a man who can cook in places other than the bedroom.”

“Juicy, you’d love a man who didn’t throw up on you on a date—”

Sonya snapped off the radio. “All because I told Aaron the truth about himself. At least Juicy understands.” She leaned back on two pillows propped against her headboard.

“And Juicy is a sister,” Kim said from her perch on the dresser. “What’s she doing on that redneck’s show anyway?”

“What does her race have to do with anything?” Sonya asked.

“Bubble Bill is sloppy and white,” Kim said, “and he disagreed with your decision.”

“And your point is?”

“I’m just saying … that even white people don’t understand you keeping John.”

One sloppy white man. “Bubble Bill does not speak for all white people. He can barely speak for himself. You think I did the wrong thing?”

“No,” Kim said. “I’m just saying that you could have let Aaron down more gently.”

“This, coming from you. You don’t pull any punches.”

Kim slid off the dresser and picked up her hair. “But that’s me, Sonya. I’ve never heard you be so mean. You’re turning into a diva.” She threw on her hair.

Look who’s the diva now. “No, I’m not. I’m being my ordinary, honest self.”

“Couldn’t you have let Aaron go with a smile on his face?” Kim asked.

No. His teeth blinded me enough as it was.

Kim began to brush her hair. “You could have massaged his ego a little, told him he was hot but that you didn’t have any chemistry, you know, lied to his face like normal bachelorettes do on these shows.”

And that wouldn’t have been honest. “Aaron’s ego is far too big for anyone to massage. A hundred women couldn’t massage his ego with both hands. And anyway, there’s probably some hoochie out there right now consoling him. ‘Oh, you poor, poor baby. Let me help you get over the truth that woman said about you. Hey, that’s a really cool mermaid you have there. What’s her name?’”

“Sonya, you’re tripping.” Kim dropped her brush and walked over to the window.

Sonya shook her head. “Aaron is going to milk my rejection of him into a whole lot of draws. Bob Freeberg is probably negotiating with him right now for another show all about him in the future.”

“I’d go on that show,” Kim said.

“Would you? Tony might not like it.”

Kim opened the curtains wider. “Why would I care what Tony thought?”

“You like him, that’s why.”

Kim turned. “Tony’s okay. That’s all. He’s just … okay.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Tony only likes the hair and what he can see.”

“Like someone else I know in this very room.” And there isn’t much else left for Tony to see.

“You think I only go for eye candy, don’t you?” Kim asked.

“Yes.” And the sour variety, too. “John is white. Aaron is a hunk. Gary’s too dark. Justin’s too fat. You let your eyes make your decisions for you.”

Kim turned back to the window. “So?”

“So in order to attract ‘okay’ Tony, let your hair down, don’t even wear it, see with your heart instead of your eyes, and be you,” Sonya said. “And if he’s still attracted to you after this monumental change …”

Kim turned back sharply. “What?”

She’s actually listening? Cool. “If he’s still attracted to you, we’ll get him checked out psychologically.”

“Hey! That wasn’t nice!”

Sonya grabbed her pillow. “Then do something about it.”

Kim picked up a pillow.

Half an hour later, down feathers filled their room.

Once they had run out of pillows to break open, Sonya rested on her bed in a pile of feathers. “For the next challenge, I want them to fix something.”

“Like what?” Kim said. “These pillows? That would be fun to watch.”

“Like, oh, a clogged toilet or a sink or even fix a flat tire,” Sonya said. “You know, the stuff real men fix every day.”

Kim blew a feather off her nose. “I can’t see any of them doing that.”

I can. John is a handyman. “Then we’ll do it. It will be good comedy.”

“I meant the producers, Sonya. Where’s the romance in fixing a clogged toilet? Can they even show shit on TV?”

Yeah. That’s nasty. “A flat tire, then.”

“Isn’t that what Triple-A is for?” Kim asked.

She has an argument for every one of my arguments. “I’m just saying that a real man should know how to fix stuff.”

Kim shook out her bedspread, feathers floating into the air. “Shoot, if a man can fix me some microwave popcorn, I’m straight.”

“You need to raise your expectations, Kim.”

“Okay, have them do some ironing,” Kim said. “I have never met a man who could iron very well.”

Wrinkled John ironing? He’s full of surprises. An iron is really just another tool, if you think about it. “All right then, our next challenge will be for them to do some ironing.” I hope he can iron.

John couldn’t iron.

A lick.

John came in dead last, the outfit he ironed looking worse after he ironed it, the white bed sheet sporting several scorch marks.

Since the challenge ended in a tie between Tony (Kim’s choice) and Justin (Sonya’s choice), Bob appeared.

“You have to break the tie, Jazz,” Bob said.

“Why?” Sonya asked. “They both won.”

“Just … make a decision,” Bob said. “You’ve already gone out with Justin. Say Tony wins this one.”

“I won’t,” Sonya said. “Justin kicked butt on the outfit, and Tony kicked butt on the bed sheet. Either both Tony and Justin go on our date or no one goes on any date.”

“You want to go out on a date with two men?” Bob asked. “Aren’t you worried about your reputation? A single woman out with two men?”

“I go to church every Sunday with four men, Bob,” Sonya said. “What’s your point?”

Bob closed his eyes. “Jazz, you have to pick one. You already went out with Justin, so it’s Tony’s turn.”

“It’s no one’s turn,” Sonya said. “They tied for first. They both must go.”

“No.”

Oh well. “Then we don’t go. Have fun filling up forty-five minutes before the elimination.”

“Okay, okay.” Bob sighed. “The three of you can go to the winery you skipped out on last week.”

“No way,” Sonya said. “No winery.”

“I’m letting you go on your double date,” Bob said. “Work with me here. Compromise.”

“No,” Sonya said. “I guess we’ll just lounge around the pool for a few days, maybe play some cards, eat leftovers.”

“Miss Richardson,” Bob whispered, “please be reasonable.”

“I’m actually being very reasonable,” Sonya said. “Has anyone on a show like this ever done three on a date?”

Bob took a breath and held it. “No.” Bob smiled. “Not yet.”

“So we’ll be the first. We’re always breaking new ground, aren’t we, Bob?”

Bob shook his head. “Whether I want us to or not, right? Well, what do you want to do on your date?”

“I want to go …” What haven’t I done in a long time? “I want to go fishing.”

Bob’s eyes popped. “Fishing? I’d think the last thing you’d want to do is get on another boat.”

“I’ll be better prepared this time,” Sonya said. “Sunscreen, a hat, long sleeves. And I know I’ll have two men who will pay attention to me.”

“Fishing, huh?” Bob said.

I am wearing this man out. “Yes, Bob, fishing. Just like I’m fishing for a man.”

Bob smiled. “A metaphor.”

“Yes,” Sonya said. “A metaphor, Bob. TV shows still use metaphors occasionally, don’t they?”

Bob nodded. “Yes. We do.” He shook his head. “You’re a piece of work.”

Sonya winked. “And I work for peace, too. Now if you will excuse me.” I have to go rag on John. She caught up to John in the kitchen, where he was making Sloppy Joes.

“Don’t say it,” John said.

“Say what?” Sonya asked.

“Something like, ‘Who taught you how to iron?’”

He read my mind. “Sheila did all your ironing.”

John nodded. “She tried to teach me how to once, and, well, the results back then were actually better than the results were today.”

Sonya moved close enough to smell John’s neck. I need to know what his cologne is. It’s so fresh. “I tried to do an, um, handyman-type challenge this time,” she whispered, “but a clogged toilet wouldn’t make for good TV.”

John turned from the stove. “Don’t go to any trouble on my behalf.”

“But I miss talking to you.” And having you touch me.

John smiled. “We’re talking now, right?”

“Not like before.”

“I’m a patient man,” John said. “What does the Bible say? ‘Tribulation worketh patience, and patience, experience, and experience, hope.’ I hope to win a challenge soon.”

“I hope so, too.”

“I hear you’re going fishing,” John said. “Have fun. If you catch it, I’ll cook it for you.”

“Deal.”

Sonya, Justin, and Tony went to Newport Beach and Davey’s Locker to take the sixty-foot Hercules out on the high seas to San Clemente Island. They bragged about how many fish they had caught in their lives, how adept they were at fishing, how great it would be to pose in front of a marlin.

They caught one fish. It weighed slightly under two pounds.

The captain promised an abundance of swordfish, shark, bonito, tuna, snook, and yellowtail. After nine hours of feeding pounds of anchovies to the fish and losing several big ones, Sonya caught a little two-pound sea bass that reminded her of Aaron. Though she wanted John to cook it up for her, she let it return to the deep.

Including the production costs of the film crew, boat and fishing rig rental, and all those anchovies for bait, the little bass cost Warner Bros. about sixty thousand dollars a pound.

Back on shore, they ate at Hokkaido Seafood Buffet, an irony not lost on anyone. While Justin and Tony pigged out on crab, New York steak, and yellowtail sushi, Sonya stuck to salads and an order of honey-glazed shrimp.

At the door to the mansion, they did a group hug for the camera.

Eww, Sonya thought. We smell like anchovies. “Fellas, I need a bath.”

“We could go sit in the hot tub,” Justin said.

“No way,” Sonya said. “We’d turn that hot tub into anchovy soup.”

As Justin and Tony showered off nine hours of fishing funk, Gary and John had a quiet talk in John’s room.

“If both Tony and Justin have immunity, that leaves you and me,” Gary said. “I haven’t exactly impressed anyone, especially Shani.”

“Ah,” John said, “but I burned the sheets.”

“I don’t know how you didn’t see the flames, man,” Gary said. “The smoke detectors were going off.”

John smiled. “Maybe I didn’t want to win that one.”

Gary widened his eyes. “You tanked it?”

John shrugged. “I didn’t use enough starch, I guess. But when I saw y’all putting razor-thin creases in those pants, I knew I was sunk. So I had a little fun.”

“Why’d you do that, man?” Gary asked. “Don’t you want a date with Jazz?”

“Sure.”

“You’re going about it a strange way,” Gary said. “She really digs you, man.”

“I know.” And I dig her. “Maybe I’m just making Jazz sweat a little, you know, putting her on the spot.”

“But she has to eliminate someone,” Gary said. “And if she digs you, it has to be me.”

“Not necessarily,” John said. “She might not eliminate anyone.”

“You think?”

John shrugged. “Today’s date was a first. If she keeps everyone, that would be a first, too. I think Jazz likes breaking new ground.”

“I hope you’re right,” Gary said.

I hope so, too.

It was much quieter at Bethel Sunday morning, and Sonya seemed to notice. Instead of whispering during the service, she wrote a note to John on the back of the church bulletin.

What’s wrong?

John wrote back:

Thinking @ 2morrow nite

And then they had a conversation.

U R safe

I shouldn’t B

U R

Y

I like u. I like having u @

I burn things

Cuz U R hot

So R U

How hot?

Scalding

LOL

What @ Gary

He’s safe 2

Which means …

We R family now

We R

Yes! Can’t break up family

Right

U OK now

Yes wish I could hold yr hand

John took Sonya’s hand and pulled it under his Bible as an old Sisters Sledge song rolled through his mind … We are family …

Only John and Gary had packed bags in the driveway Monday night, Tony and Justin flanking Sonya and Shani.

“Both Tony and Justin have immunity this week,” Graham said. “Jazz, who’s safe?”

All of us, John thought. We are family.

Sonya smiled at John. “Gary.”

Oh, that wasn’t nice, John thought. The old smile at one man and make the other man’s day. And she thinks I’m the one making her wait.

“Gary, you are a hunk,” Graham said, smiling. “And that means that Arthur is—”

“Safe as well,” Sonya interrupted.

Always keep ’em guessing, huh, Sonya? Thank You, Lord. I owe You another one. Hmm. I better get down there.

“They’re all safe, Jazz?” Graham asked as John strolled down. “But Arthur torched the sheets! He ruined a pair of Theory pants and a Ralph Lauren shirt! He came in dead last in the challenge!”

Sonya smiled. “I’m not done with him yet, Graham.”

John went to Sonya and hugged her, brushing his lips against her ear as he whispered, “You kept me waiting a long time.”

“Look who’s talking,” Sonya whispered.

John took his place next to Gary.

“Jazz, you can’t not eliminate someone,” Graham said.

“Can’t not?” Sonya said. “You can’t expect me to truly know a man in only a few weeks.”

“But it’s part of the game,” Graham said, sweat beads forming on his forehead.

“I’m keeping all my options open,” Sonya said. “Anyone who plays a game keeps all the options open. And a woman can never have enough options, Graham. Women shouldn’t be forced to make snap decisions, especially if a man is doing the forcing.”

“Then what’s the point of doing challenges?” Graham asked.