Authors: J.J. Murray
But now I have to toast her, and I have never given a toast to anyone in my life. I suppose I could give her a benediction. May the peace of God … No, that would be boring. And Larry said not to do the “religious” stuff.
While John tried to recall any toast-like verses from the Bible, the rest of the Crew poured on the charm:
“Here’s to getting to know you better and better each day—and especially each and every night.”
“Here’s to my Nubian queen, the best-looking woman that I’ve ever seen.”
“Here’s to the hottest honey in the universe. You have me buzzing like a bee.”
“Here’s to you and me …”
John backed away into the kitchen, opening a refrigerator that could have eaten two of his refrigerators, and took two Dasani bottled waters. By the time he returned to the pool, he was listening to Justin, by far the largest human John had ever met at six-eight and at least three hundred fifty pounds, rapping his toast to Jazz:
“Yo, Jazz, you are my princess, I must confess, I love that dress, and you don’t take no mess. You came in nice wheels, you dropped them heels, you got nerves of steel, and before you I kneel.” Justin eased down to a kneeling position, and he was still almost as tall as Jazz was.
Jazz clapped her hands. “That was great!”
And I have to follow that performance? John thought.
“Arthur?” Graham said.
Couldn’t we go to a commercial or something?
Justin rose and stepped back. John edged through the rest of the Crew and stood in front of Jazz. He handed her a bottled water.
“Thank you,” she said.
He held up his bottled water. “Here’s to comfortable shoes, honesty, and quiet nights.”
Why does everything get so quiet around here whenever I speak?
He toasted me with Dasani water! Sonya thought. Kim has to be busting a gut back at the hotel.
“Thank you, Arthur,” Sonya said. “That was sweet.” Especially the “honesty” part. But how’d he know I enjoyed quiet nights?
“And now,” Graham said, “it’s time for Jazz to mingle with the Crew.”
Darius shot his arm and five fingers into the air, folding his fingers one at a time into a fist. “Commercial!”
Three things happened simultaneously. Darius started cursing the world in general, half the Crew pulled out cell phones and checked for messages, and Graham picked up a glass of champagne, downing it in one gulp.
“That was horrific,” Graham said.
“The champagne?” Sonya asked. Or your inability to go with the flow and simply talk to people, Graham?
“Not the champagne,” Graham whispered. “We’ll be lucky to be on the air next week.”
“Why?” Sonya asked.
Graham looked back at Arthur. “Him.”
He’s not the problem, Sonya thought. This fantasy masquerading as reality is the problem. “You’re joking.”
“He’s been stealing the spotlight all night,” Graham whispered. “He timed his arrival to get the most face time with you.”
Arthur? He couldn’t be that shrewd. I mean, the man took off his shoes on national TV. That was crazy, not shrewd. Hmm. But a lot of people are going to be talking about him and his shoes tomorrow. I’m sure people are online right now blogging their opinions about his socks.
“I’ve seen it before,” Graham whispered after pouring and sucking down another glass of champagne. “It’s always the ones you never expect.”
“Turn off your cell phones!” Darius shouted. “I told you all to turn off your cell phones! I distinctly heard buzzing! Turn ’em off! We are on again in sixty seconds.”
Sonya looked around. Let’s see who the drinkers are. Arthur doesn’t drink … or at least he hasn’t had anything to drink. He might still be trying to play me. Justin is drinking a Gatorade. Good. He could probably play lineman in the NFL as big as he is. He is definitely from Philly the way he talks. And that guy, what’s his name? Gary. From Memphis. He could play linebacker. Tall, dark, and broad-shouldered. He’s not drinking anything. Tony, slim, light-skinned, soft eyes. Where’s he from? New Orleans. He has a bottled water. I have to learn these names quick. The rest are drinking like fish and getting seconds and thirds on the champagne. Hmm. But why aren’t they fawning on me now? She turned slowly in a circle. Here I am, fellas. Aren’t we supposed to be mingling?
“Aren’t your feet cold?”
Sonya turned to see Arthur staring at her feet. “A little.” She looked down at his socks. “Are your feet cold?”
“No.”
“Thirty seconds!” Darius shouted. “Get ready to mingle, and don’t look at the cameras at any time!”
“Does he shout like that all the time?” Arthur asked.
“He seems to. I wish I had brought earplugs.”
“I wish I had brought my boots.” He smiled. “It gets kinda deep around here.”
“Fifteen seconds!” Darius shouted. “Act happy!”
“I better step aside,” Arthur said. “I don’t want to be trampled by all your admirers.”
“You don’t have to go, Arthur.” I may need you to block for me.
“I have, um, I’ve been getting too much face time with you.”
Arthur has some excellent hearing.
“It is really good to meet you, Jazz.” He backed away and headed for a poolside chair.
“Five! Four!” Darius silently mouthed the last three numbers.
And then the Crew descended on Jazz.
For the rest of the first episode.
So this is what claustrophobia feels like, Sonya thought. I’m smiling so much my cheeks hurt. “Girl,” “Ma,” “Jazz.” I miss my real name! So many conflicting colognes, so many perfectly white teeth. And the bling! It’s blinding. I’m surrounded by tattoos, chests, muscles, and tattooed chest and arm muscles. And I’m not saying much. How can I whittle them down when I can’t separate them out or even talk to them one-on-one? I may not know much about having a relationship, but this group thing going on around me is not the way to start one with one person.
Sonya occasionally had glimpses of Gary, who had the nicest eyes, Justin, whose single leg would outweigh her, and Tony, who had the smoothest voice. They stayed just out of range of the huddle of faces, chains, and tight jeans around her. Once she spied Arthur looking out to sea. Just like that stupid book cover on that personality test.
“You look like you might have played some ball.”
Sonya looked up. Who is this tall person? Um. Aaron. The basketball player. From … Houston. “I might have. Aaron, right?”
“Right,” Aaron said. “Bet you got some smooth moves. Maybe we can play some one-on-one sometime.”
Is he serious? “I am a team player.”
“You can play on my team anytime, Ma.”
I don’t want to listen to this mess anymore. I have to leave. “I’m really tired, fellas, so …” Where’s Graham? Oh, there he is. The man is hammered. Good thing the table he’s leaning on is sturdy.
She tried to walk by Aaron, but Aaron stepped in front of her. “Excuse me,” she said.
“I can walk you to your room,” Aaron said.
And I can walk up some stairs all by my own little self. “That’s sweet, but I’ll be fine.”
Aaron still wouldn’t move. “Don’t want you to get lost in your castle, Ma.”
And I want you to get lost, boy. I’m old enough to be your ma. “I won’t get lost.”
“If you do, I’ll find you,” Aaron said, and he stepped aside.
And all that was just witnessed by a couple million people who probably think Aaron has game. He does—a little—but I just have to get some rest.
She said, “Good night, everybody,” waved for the cameras, and walked through the kitchen into the foyer, a cameraman following closely behind her. In the foyer she saw Arthur staring at one of the inkblot paintings.
And the camera is right on my sore heels. Geez. I can’t escape!
Arthur turned from the painting. “Good night, Jazz. Sleep well. Dream happy dreams.”
That was … odd. “I’ll try.”
She walked upstairs. The camera is probably filming my electric blue butt now. I wish I could walk up the stairs backward. She turned left at the top of the stairs, opened the door to her “wing,” and closed the door.
That was the longest hour of my entire life. Triple-overtime games were shorter. Thank You, Lord Jesus, for getting me through it.
She drifted down a short hallway to her suite and locked the door behind her. Then she unpinned the wig and put it on a Styrofoam head on the dresser, shimmied out of the dress, removed her padded bra and contacts, threw on a T-shirt and sweats, and spent the next hour removing the makeup from her face and the cologne from her hands and upper body. Only then did she turn on her phone and find several text messages from Kim:
U look gud 4 an old lady LOL Thot u wld trip!
I thought I would, too, Sonya thought. I will not wear Pollini ever again.
Dat white man b old. funny tho. howd his feet smell? ROFL no dont. u wld b closer 2 his feet!
“Ha!” I’m sure the rest of the world is wondering about him, too. He did save my toes, though. They are back to a healthy brown color.
A few r gay. call me 4 who.
How does she know this? And if she’s right about even one of them, what are they doing on this show? She opened the last message.
Aaron is hot. he da 1.
She is so young, Sonya thought, but she’s right. Aaron is chiseled, tall, smooth, a heartthrob. But he calls me “Ma.” He’s not the person I want calling me that.
She heard a knock at the door. “Who is it?”
“Larry Prince.”
Maybe he’s here to tell me the show’s been canceled already. How do I feel about that? Hmm. I feel relieved. She opened her door and stepped into the hall, closing the door behind her. “It’s a mess in there.”
“How are you?” Larry asked.
“Fine. What’s up?” She leaned her back on the door.
“Um, well …”
Sonya nodded. “It didn’t go too well, did it?”
“Oh, no, it was sensational … actually. Better than we had hoped.”
Then why doesn’t he sound so sure? “So … why the visit?”
“Bob thought I should, you know, remind you of a few important things.”
“Oh. Did I leave the scene too early?”
“No,” Larry said. “Your exit was done with style and grace.”
And barefoot. “I shouldn’t have taken off the heels. But they were killing my feet.”
“How are they now?”
“Better.” Larry isn’t mad at all. Hmm. “Oh, I know I should have held the champagne glass, but y’all know I don’t drink.”
“It’s fine.”
“I’ll try to be a better princess tomorrow.”
Larry smiled. “And now that I have reminded you of those important things, I will go.”
Huh? “You didn’t remind me of anything important, Larry.”
“And I don’t ever plan to, Sonya,” Larry said. “Keep doing exactly what you’re doing. Keep on, how do they say it? Keep on keeping it real.”
“Really?”
“You were marvelous.” Larry smiled. “Keep it up.”
Sonya smiled. “I’ll try.”
“I’ll do my best to keep Bob happy,” Larry said. “If that’s possible.” He chuckled under his breath. “You are amazing in front of a camera. You have such presence. Your reactions to everything Arthur did and said were priceless.”
“That wasn’t acting, Larry.”
“I know,” Larry said. “And that’s what makes your reactions so priceless. I almost wish we could do the entire show live. We’ll be taping and splicing all week for next Monday’s show and for every show until the finale. The last fifteen minutes of every show will be live, though, and I’m sure those moments will be magical, but we’re liable to lose some of the week’s magic with all the splicing.”
More live stuff? “The last fifteen minutes of every show will be live.”
“That’s when you send them packing,” Larry said. “Bob says it’s a bad idea, but I think it’s the best idea. Viewers will see immediate reactions. No amount of editing can improve on that.”
“What if they… go off?”
“We’ll have it on a ten-second delay just in case.”
Yikes.
“It will be fine, Sonya,” Larry said.
“Um, do you think any of the … losers will get loud?”
“They might.”
“I’ll have to let them go gently, then, huh?”
“Let them go any way you want to.” He winked. “Get some rest.”
Sonya returned to her room and glided to the veranda overlooking the pool. She saw Aaron, Tony, and Gary sitting at a table and talking. Yeah, those three are handsome, strong black men. The producers chose wisely. She saw Justin and Arthur at the overlook talking. And those two are my comic relief, two very sweet men. Arthur still isn’t wearing shoes. The rest? Drunk, and the party is getting louder. I already miss the waves.
I wonder … She quickly texted Kim.
Can i dump 7 guys @ 1 time?
A minute later, Kim replied:
Wch 7?
Sonya texted:
All but Arthur, Gary, Tony, Justin, & Aaron
Kim replied:
Gud choices exc 4 Arthur.
Why are we texting? And if I make one call, will they fire me? I don’t think so. Sonya dialed Kim’s number. “So what did you think?” Of your old mother.
“You were too blue,” Kim said.
“I know.” Sonya turned on her TV. “I was seeing blue, too.”
“And you’re supposed to talk a lot more, not just smile. You were cheesing the whole time. I kept saying, ‘Speak, Sonya.’ The people next door have to think I’m crazy.”
“I know, I know. I was having enough trouble breathing, I was so nervous.” She scrolled down the screen guide to the Travel Channel and Man v. Food. Man, I’ve seen that one already. He eats an eleven-pound pizza. Disgusting, but entertaining. “What do you think of my choices so far?”
“Arthur? Really?”
“He’s different.” And older.
“He’s white.”
“It’s more than that, Kim. He’s … funny. He’s easy to talk to. The only time I relaxed was when he was around.”
“Well, you can keep him,” Kim said. “For now. Drop the other seven as soon as you can. All at once would be awesome. I’ve never seen more than one guy get dumped on a show like this. It will be unprecedented.”
“They won’t let me do that.” Larry might approve. He just said to let them go any way I wanted to. Bob, though. Bob will have a cow until his half-dollars squirt from his shoes and break windows.
“How could they stop you, Jazz? You are the star.”