Authors: J.J. Murray
“Just say it.”
“Sonya, you were kind of busting out all over.”
Sonya smiled. “I am not a D cup.” And why did I tell him this?
“I can … see that.” John’s face reddened. “I mean …” He shook his head. “Sonya, I can see that you’re not a D cup. You are beautiful the way you are now.”
Wow. My little B-pluses are both happy and sad!
“You took out your extensions already?”
“It was just a wig.” Hold up. AME. White man. Extensions. “What do you know about extensions?”
“My wife wore them from time to time. She claimed it helped her hair grow out. I don’t think it did, but what do I know.”
AME … extensions … he’s on this show, and he chose to be on this show. “Was, um, your wife—was she black?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” Now what? “So you thought you’d come on this show to woo a twenty-five-year-old Nubian princess with the ultimate goal for her to be your wife?”
“Yep,” John said, “but it didn’t make any sense at all to me … until this moment.”
Oh. Now that I’m more his speed, it makes sense. “You better explain.” Because nothing about this makes much sense to me!
“Now that I know that you aren’t a twenty-five-year-old Nubian princess, I shall do my very best to woo you.”
Sonya blinked. “So because I’m older, you’ll do your best?”
John blinked. “I’m not making much sense, am I?” He sighed deeply. “Sonya, I guess what I’m saying is that I am so glad you’re older and wiser. I was afraid I wouldn’t have a single thing to say to you if you were a surfing actress airhead.”
Well put! “Um, tell me about your wife.”
“You want to know about Sheila.”
Oh, geez, I’ve just asked him to tell me about his dead wife. “Only if you …”
“I don’t mind. Sheila was light. She was sunlight. Everything about her glowed.”
And his face is lighting up, too. No one has ever lit up like that talking about me.
“When I saw you glowing in all those lights,” John said, “you reminded me of her, especially the heels. Sheila liked but she didn’t like wearing heels, which is sort of the prerequisite of a pastor’s wife. We had two services at church every Sunday, and New Hope likes to stand and get its praise on. Two hours minimum each service.”
That’s a lot of praising. “Ouch.” One praise service is enough for me, but I wear flats.
“I would … rub her feet between first and second service and then after the second service. It was kind of a routine. It helped her sleep, too.” He seemed to wipe his hands on his sweats. “I could … No.”
Was he about to ask if he could rub my feet? I would kill to have my feet rubbed now, but I just met the man! “You were about to ask if you could rub my feet, weren’t you?”
“Yes. I’m especially worried about your left pinkie toe.” He laughed. “But we just met. Who rubs the feet of someone they just met? I mean, that would be awkward.”
“Oh, you’re right.” But the foot rub would feel so good!
“I mean, that would be about as brazen and shameless as hugging on or kissing a woman you just met in front of dozens of cameras on live TV while millions of people watched at home.”
I wasn’t expecting him to go there. But he’s right. Those men were shameless and brazen.
“Sonya, I’m surprised you could breathe with all that cologne in the air. If anyone had lit a match around you after the introductions, you would have caught on fire.”
True. “I had to wash that mess off the second I got upstairs.” And now I’m getting country with this country man.
John sighed. “Sonya, I’m …” He turned fully to face her. “I have no idea what I’m doing. I mean, here I am practically begging you to rub your feet. What kind of man does that?”
A nice man with … large hands. I hadn’t noticed those before.
“I haven’t had a date, a real date, in fifteen years. I’m not sure how to behave.”
“Trust me,” Sonya said. “You’re behaving very nicely.” Do I tell him that he’s in good company and that I haven’t had a date in seventeen years? “You’re being a gentleman.”
“I’m trying to be, but …” John closed his eyes and opened them slowly. “You’re sitting a few feet away from me looking so …”
“So …”
“Sweet.”
Not beautiful? I should be hurt.
“And familiar, I mean … this scene is familiar. Just sitting on the couch talking.” He looked at the wide-screen TV. “If the TV were on, we’d be commenting on what we were seeing, throwing popcorn at each other, changing channels, um, snuggling …”
My kind of date!
“I better change the subject,” John said.
No. I like that subject! “Why?”
“I’m sometimes too honest for my own good, and I’m liable to say something you’ll think is crazy.”
You came on a reality TV show to find a wife. There isn’t much crazier. “I don’t believe it’s possible to be too honest. What were you going to say?”
“I, um, I already like you, Sonya. You’re easy to like.”
He … likes me. Just like that.
“So, um, what do I have to do to keep your attention?” John asked. Just keep talking to me, man. “Just keep … doing what you’re doing.” And now I’m sounding like Larry.
“Even if I don’t know what I’m doing?” John asked.
You’re doing just fine. “Just be yourself.”
John nodded. “I can do that. I’ve had lots of practice.”
Both of Sonya’s feet began to throb, so she stretched her legs out in front of her to shake them out.
“I can fix them,” John said.
I know he could fix anything with those … big ol’ hands. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
Sonya swiveled to the arm of the couch, sliding her feet toward John. “Hook me up, then.” What am I doing? I’m handing my feet to a stranger! That didn’t make sense. How can you hand your feet to anyone?
“Are you sure?” John asked.
“Yes. They’re killing me.”
John took her right foot and began to massage it, gently but firmly. “Tell me if I’m too rough. I haven’t done this in a while.”
Lord Jesus, whoo! Yes, squeeze the pinkie toe, squeeze the pinkie toe!
“I’m not squeezing too hard, am I?” John asked.
Sonya shook her head. “No. Just right.”
He took her left foot in his hands. “You have seriously strong feet.”
Not exactly what every girl wants to hear.
“You do any running?” John asked.
Oh, yes, Lord! Grind that heel, grind that heel until it sings! “Some.” But right now my feet are floating!
“This reminds me of something,” John said.
I have nothing to compare this to at all. “What does this remind you of?”
“Something about a sandal in the book of Ruth.”
He has my foot in his hands, and he’s thinking about the book of Ruth? Oh yeah! “Ruth and Boaz.”
John blinked. “Yes. Ruth and Boaz. Boaz took off his sandal … to, um, claim Ruth …”
As his wife!
“And you took off some high heels …” John said, his voice trailing off to a whisper.
Okay, Sonya thought, this is getting awkward. But it feels so good! I better stop before I get too excited and make little yelping noises. I know I’m already panting. She slid her left foot from his hand. “I’m getting sleepy, John.”
“See? It works. Do your feet feel better?”
“Yes.” I don’t want to walk on them ever again. Does this place have an elevator? “Thank you, John.”
“Anytime, Sonya.”
Sonya stood, her feet still tingling. “Anytime? I may need your, um, services again.”
“Anytime.”
And for some reason, I know in my heart that he means that. “Good night. Thanks for … everything.”
John looked out a window. “Sun’s coming up, so it’s good morning.”
Something weird has happened here, but I like it. “Good morning, then.”
John nodded. “God is good.”
Sonya smiled. “All the time.”
“Bob?”
“I know, I know, Larry. That was pathetic! That was pitiful!”
“Pitiful? This was one of the sweetest scenes I’ve ever seen. People will be talking about it for weeks.”
“But we can’t use any of this, can we?”
“Why not?”
“Nothing really happened. They talked. He rubbed her feet. Where’s the romance in that? We can’t use any of it.”
Larry sighed. “I suppose not.”
“These Christians! Do they have to be so chaste and honest with each other? They practically know everything about each other!”
“She withheld a lot of information, Bob, and it does add a wrinkle to the proceedings, doesn’t it?”
“But it’s a wrinkle we can never put on the air. Except for the foot rub. That was kind of hot. Did you see her face? She was getting into it, but then she pulled away. Let’s use the foot rub.”
“Oh, no, Bob. We can’t put that on the air unless we run the entire scene.”
“Why not?”
“It wouldn’t be right. It would be out of context.”
“Of course it would be right. We have the right, right? And it would be great for ratings. Think of the promos we can run. ‘Jazz gets a leg up on the next Hunk or Punk.’”
“But the phrase ‘get a leg up’ connotes—”
“I know what it means, Larry,” Bob interrupted. “We’re allowed to tease the audience, right?”
“They’ll be disappointed when no, um, getting of the leg up happens.”
“Hmm. Well … let’s run the foot rub footage in front of the Crew at breakfast tomorrow.”
“What? Would that be, um, would that be a good idea, Bob?”
“Controversy is good, right?”
“Yes, but Sonya and John, I mean, Jazz and Arthur have a certain degree of chemistry. They’re already comfortable with each other. We just watched an intimate scene, one they thought they were having alone. To share those intimate moments with the Crew, why, that’s like casting pearls before swine.”
“Chemistry is boring, Larry. No one tunes in to hear two people talking and being comfortable with each other, especially when those two people are on a couch at four o’clock in the morning and they aren’t all over each other. Why didn’t they, I don’t know, start trading hands or something?”
“They’re mature adults, that’s why. They showed admirable restraint. This is how mature relationships begin. This is what helps mature relationships grow.”
“By rubbing feet? We need more action than that! And this footage is guaranteed to start some action tomorrow at breakfast.”
“Today. It’s already tomorrow, Bob, and after the Crew’s partying tonight, we’ll have to show that footage at brunch.”
“Whatever. Have the foot-rubbing scene ready to roll, but absolutely no dialogue. Just the rubbing.”
“Bob, please reconsider.”
“There’s nothing to consider.”
“Okay, Bob. I’ll have it ready.”
“Arthur won’t see it coming. You think someone will open up a can of whup-ass on him?”
“A can of what?”
“The rest of the Crew isn’t gonna like it that the white boy has already moved in on their princess.”
“Their princess? Bob, she’s no one’s princess until she makes her final choice.”
“You know what I mean, Larry. The white boy arrived late, had all the best lines, and rubbed her feet while they were sleeping. He’s winning.”
“Yes. Yes, he is. And I’m happy for him.”
“But no one will ever see him winning. You get me?”
“I don’t agree with this.”
“You don’t have to agree. Now, what’s our challenge tomorrow?”
“There isn’t one. No challenge until the obstacle course Wednesday.”
“Just as well. Arthur is going to have a very challenging day as it is.”
Just after sunrise, John took a jog through Point Dume beside mansions of the rich and famous.
My little apartment could fit inside one of their garages, John thought.
After taking Dume Drive to Cliffside Drive, he trotted past signs for Point Dume State Beach, where he panicked several rabbits and had to leap over a gopher snake. Looking out over the ocean, he saw several dolphins, heard more than saw sea lions, and even thought he saw a gray whale spouting in the distance.
This is not Alabama, John thought. All this wildlife. He looked behind him. Better get back to the wildlife at the mansion. I’m sure the beasts will be stirring soon.
He arrived tired and worn out, but he wasn’t as tired as most of the Crew. He took a bottled water from the refrigerator and an apple from a fruit bowl and went into the great room.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Arthur,” Graham said.
“Are the cameras on?” John asked.
“Always,” Graham said.
Which means something dramatic is about to happen, John thought. I am so glad I returned when I did.
The rest of the Crew lounged on couches in front of a massive wide-screen TV, the gas fireplace behind it glowing.
John found an empty recliner near Justin and munched on his apple.
“Last night,” Graham said, “something very interesting happened in this very room.” He pointed to the brown couch where Aaron and Gary were sitting. “On that very couch.” He clicked a button on the remote. “Watch.”
Though the film was grainy and even a little gray, there was no doubt what John was seeing. They were filming Sonya and me. Geez. There’s nowhere to hide in this place.
Most of the Crew sat up straighter.
“Our Nubian princess was very busy last night,” Graham said. “And so was Arthur.”
Instead of worrying what others were thinking, John analyzed his technique. Not bad. I’m out of practice. I was concentrating so hard on her feet that I didn’t notice her face. Is that peace? Ecstasy? A little of both. I still got it. I shouldn’t have mentioned Boaz’s sandal. Note to self: Never drop biblical references when you’re rubbing a woman’s feet. But where’s the sound? Hmm. Maybe they couldn’t hear us.
When the clip ended, John looked around. He expected the Crew to be upset.
Most only shrugged.
“Gonna have to stay up later.”
“She looked different.”
“I knew she was wearing a wig.”
“They got to fix the lighting in this room. I could barely see anything.”
“Dag, man, I was out. I drank too much of that absinthe stuff.”
“Yo,” Justin said, “I ate too much. You all have any of those nachos? They were bangin’.”
“Larry, why aren’t they reacting? They should be reacting, throwing pillows, cursing, getting up in Arthur’s face—something!”