Authors: J.J. Murray
John nodded, smiled, and walked around Sonya to stand beside Tony.
Sonya stepped in front of Aaron and sighed. Should I do what Ephesians says and speak the truth in love? Or do I let him have it? “Aaron …”
Aaron smiled. “Yes, Jazz?”
And now I’m blinded for real. He used all fifty of his teeth. Hmm. Doesn’t Proverbs 27:5 say that ‘Open rebuke is better than secret love’? I guess that this man is going to get a rebuke.
“Aaron, Aaron, Aaron,” Sonya said dreamily. “Where do I begin? Let’s start with that chili. Your chili might have been good had you put any actual chili in it. The beans you did put in it were crunchy, not soft. I thought I was chewing on my own teeth.”
Aaron’s eyes widened.
“And save the peanut butter and chocolate for Reese’s cups,” Sonya continued. “And that ‘poem’ you wrote? Your poem could have been taken from the inside of any greeting card at the Dollar Store. It meant nothing to me, and I have a feeling that it meant nothing to you, too. As for our date last week …”
Aaron looked away.
“I had an absolutely horrendous time, but they cut and spliced it to make it look as if I had a ‘magical’ time,” Sonya said. “There was nothing magical about our date, Aaron. I wish I knew some magic so I could have disappeared from our date. And I practically did disappear, didn’t I? I could have vanished on our date and you never would have flinched because you had your shirt off and your drink on. The best part of the date was when it ended. And how did it end? The producers didn’t want the world to know what a boozer you were. They just faded it out. We know what really happened, don’t we? When you tried to kiss me, I stepped far away from your whiskey-sour breath, and you missed my lips by a mile. Then you nearly kissed a ficus plant because you were so drunk.”
Aaron set his jaw. “I wasn’t drunk, Jazz.”
“Yes, you were,” Sonya said. “You could barely walk.”
“I wasn’t drunk,” Aaron said.
“So you’re normally sloppy and slurring your words?” Sonya asked.
Aaron didn’t respond.
“That’s what I saw,” Sonya said. “But most of all, when I invited you to church yesterday morning, you didn’t just turn me down—you turned God down. In Psalms it says, ‘The wicked, through the pride of his countenance, will not seek after God: God is not in all his thoughts.’” And now for the big finish. “Aaron, you are arrogant, close-minded, and too full of yourself to have any time for me or for God. Good-bye, Aaron. I hope one day that you find what you’re looking for. It will never be me.” Sonya turned her back on him.
Aaron smiled. “You’re joking, right?”
Unbelievable. “You’re still here?”
“Jazz, you aren’t playing the game according to the rules,” Aaron said. “There are rules to this game, and you’re breaking them all.”
Oh, yeah? Sonya turned to face him. “There are no real rules when it comes to real relationships, Aaron. You broke quite a few rules of decency on our date, and I have the bruises on my body to show for it. What gave you the right to put your hands on me, especially after I asked you to stop?”
Aaron’s eyes narrowed. “You wanted to be touched, Jazz.”
“Not by you,” Sonya said. “Never by you.”
Aaron took a quick breath. “You’re just saying that.”
“Yes, I am just saying that,” Sonya said. “And millions of people just heard me say that. And now I’m telling you to go.”
Aaron slapped the back of his hand into his palm. “That’s not how this game is played!”
Sonya took a step closer. “I am true to the game. You’re only true to yourself. Now … shoo.”
Aaron froze, looking over Sonya’s head.
Darius, Bob, and Larry can’t help you, boy. “Oh, that’s right. You thought you were safe tonight. You didn’t even pack your suitcases, did you? And that just proves what I was saying about how arrogant you are. Go inside and pack, Aaron. We’ll wait for you out here.”
“This ain’t right,” Aaron said.
“It sucks to be wrong, doesn’t it?” Kim said. “Do what Jazz said to do. Shoo.”
“You gonna regret this,” Aaron said.
Sonya stepped to within an inch of Aaron’s chest. “My only regret, Aaron, is that I couldn’t get rid of you sooner.” She returned to her mark.
Aaron looked at Darius, and Darius shrugged, pointing back to the house. Aaron shook his head several times and went up the sidewalk, slamming the door behind him.
“Commercial!” Darius yelled.
Kim gave Sonya some dap. “Nice job, Sis.”
Bob burst from the garage and made a beeline toward Sonya.
Sonya met him halfway. “I don’t want to hear it, Bob.”
“I told you—”
“And I told you,” Sonya interrupted. “I told you that I am what you see and hear. I will not put on another face, attitude, or appearance that isn’t me. I have made my choice.”
“You made the wrong choice,” Bob hissed.
“For you. But this show isn’t about you, is it?” Now … shoo, Bob.
Bob sighed, cursed, and strode over to Darius.
A bottled water materialized in front of Sonya’s face. “You look thirsty,” John whispered.
Sonya took the water, opened it, and drank half of it. “Thank you. I’ve never talked so much in my life.”
“Yes, you have,” John whispered. “On the couch. In the pool. See you in the kitchen.”
“Why the kitchen?” Sonya asked.
John winked. “We’re celebrating.” He walked away.
Sonya started for the mansion, but Larry and Bob cut her off. “Not now, guys.”
Larry held out his BlackBerry. “I have the results of the online poll. Eighty percent in favor, Jazz.”
Bob took the BlackBerry. “What? How many took the poll?”
“Two million, Bob.”
Bob blinked. “That fast?”
“As soon as Jazz started in on Aaron,” Larry said, “the numbers rose exponentially. They must have known what was coming.”
Bob stared at the BlackBerry. “Two … million?”
That means one point six million think I was right, Sonya thought. It also means there are four hundred thousand misguided souls out there. Hmm. Probably Aaron’s relatives or the state of Texas taking the poll again and again. “Anything else, Bob?”
Bob handed the BlackBerry to Larry. “No. Um, nothing else.” Bob wandered away.
“What’s his deal?” Kim asked.
“Jazz, Shani,” Larry said, “if two million people were online and watching TV simultaneously, how many more millions were only watching the show?”
“I don’t know,” Sonya said. “More than two million?”
Larry nodded. “Many, many more. Sonya, we may have the number-one show on TV this week. We may be bigger than the NFL playoffs. That doesn’t happen. Ever.”
Cool. “See what happens when you do the right thing?” And this is cause for celebration, too. “I’m, um, I’m going to the kitchen.”
“What for?” Kim asked.
“To celebrate,” Sonya whispered.
Their celebration consisted of popcorn, tortilla chips, seven-layer dip, bottled water, fruit smoothies, and a Spades tournament.
Sonya tried to teach Kim to play, but it was a lost cause. They lost badly to Justin and John and even worse to Tony and Gary. After the men split two games, they played the rubber match while Sonya circled the table and Kim flirted with Tony.
“Tony,” Justin said, “you keep dealing me feet instead of hands. I got maybe one here, Artie.”
“Want to concede the victory?” Tony asked.
“No,” John said. “We’re all right, Justin. I have seven and a possible here.”
Justin looked at the score sheet. “They only need forty points, yo. All they have to do is go board.”
“Let ’em,” John said. “If we take the rest, we win by ten. We bid nine. Y’all goin’ board?”
Tony looked again at his cards. “What you got, Gary?”
“Two and a possible,” Gary said.
“So do I,” Tony said. “Should we just go board?”
“Your call,” Gary said.
“If I bid five and we don’t make it, they win,” Tony said. “If I bid board and they make it, they win. If I bid five and we get five, we win. If I go board and we get five, we win.”
Gary shrugged. “Go board, then.”
Tony tapped his cards on the table. “We’re going board.”
Sonya circled the table, analyzing hands. Justin has a stank foot of a hand. Only one little spade and a queen of clubs that might get him one. Tony and Gary are right about their bids, and it’s possible those possibles of theirs will cancel themselves out if diamonds goes through without trump three times. John won’t let me see his cards, but if the other hands are any indication, he might have eight books in there—but only as long as he keeps the lead.
“My lead,” John said, and he threw out a ten of clubs.
What’s he doing? Why didn’t he lead an ace? I sometimes throw low on my weakest suit, but not when I’ve bid eight. Gary throws a king, Justin a nine, Tony the ace.
“Sorry, Gary,” Tony said.
And that means Tony is out of clubs. Now Justin’s queen is useless. They are so set!
Tony led the ace of hearts, and John trumped it.
“Damn,” Tony said.
Ah, John has no hearts. Maybe he does have a chance.
John collected the book. “I mean no disrespect, but I might have the rest.”
Tony stared at his hand. “No way, man. Play your cards.”
John sighed. “All right.” John played the big joker, the little joker, the ace of spades, and the king of spades.
Uh-oh. Spades are done. What’s John doing?
“That’s five,” John said, straightening the books.
Justin smiled. “Four more, big daddy!”
John threw out an eight of clubs.
Justin’s queen won the book.
How did John know?
“That’s six,” Justin said. He studied his hand. “No hearts, no trumps …” He looked up at the ceiling. “This has to be the card.” He threw out the five of clubs. “Tell me I’m right.”
John smiled. “You’re right.” He took the book with the jack of clubs. “Does anybody have clubs?”
Three heads shaking.
John nodded. “So these three clubs are good.” He laid them on the table. “That makes, um, eleven, I think.” He flipped up his last card, an eight of diamonds. “Y’all can have that one.”
Justin jumped up, high-fiving John. “We are the champions!”
Tony threw his remaining cards on the table. “How’d he do that? He bid nine and led off with a measly little ten of clubs.”
John smiled at Sonya. “I knew I couldn’t pull out the big guns at the beginning because I didn’t have any off aces, just some high spades and a slew of clubs. I had to draw out the spades so my clubs would go through. I’m glad Justin didn’t play a red card or we’d have been sunk. I had to disarm you all first, you know?”
Sneaky devil. Smart, too. John is always full of surprises. He’s quite a disarming man.
Quite a charming, disarming man.
He still should have been set.
Bubble Bill and Juicy went at it early the next morning on the radio.
“She dumped the ballplayer?” Bubble Bill said. “Is she crazy? She lost all her credibility right there.”
“I’m surprised you know that word,” Juicy said.
“Just don’t ask me to spell it,” Bubble Bill said. “Maybe Jazz was a late bloomer who got burned by some players before, and last night she got her revenge on all of them. Now look who’s left. The white boy, a thug, a gay guy, and a fat guy.”
“Who’s the gay guy?” Juicy asked.
“Tony’s gay,” Bubble Bill said.
“Tony’s not gay,” Juicy said.
“You hear his voice when he read that poem? He’s gay.”
“That’s what French sounds like,” Juicy said.
“Well, French sounds gay to me. The only reason she’s keeping the white guy is so white people will tune in to watch and they won’t lose their sponsors.”
“Maybe Jazz actually likes him,” Juicy said. “Ever think of that?”
“Puh-lease,” Bubble Bill wheezed. “They’re probably paying her extra not to dump him.”
“You don’t believe in love, do you, Bubble Bill?”
“Hell no, Juicy. No one finds true love on these shows. But you watch. As soon as she dumps Arthur, the ratings will tank.”
“My money’s on him,” Juicy said.
“You gonna be broke, Juicy.”
“There’s just something about his eyes,” Juicy said. “I can’t explain it.”
“You sound like you’re in love with him, Juicy.”
“He’s deep,” Juicy said. “I like deep.”
“Deep, huh?” Bubble Bill said. “Dense is more like it. And why’d they pick such a Holy Roller for a princess? Dag, she makes the Church Lady look hot.”
“The Church Lady was Dana Carvey in drag,” Juicy said.
“That’s what I’m sayin’!”
“You’re just mad that Jazz told Aaron the truth about himself,” Juicy said. “I’m glad she told him off.”
“But she had a good date,” Bubble Bill said. “She was smiling out on that boat. She was always looking at him and smiling.”
“Bubble Bill, she was squinting. And what about that date? They couldn’t have shown the entire date. She looked so bored in what they did show.”
“She was pensive,” Bubble Bill said.
“You know that word, too?” Juicy asked.
“Yes, though I don’t know what it means,” Bubble Bill said.
“Aaron only talked about himself the entire time and showed no interest in Jazz,” Juicy said. “He always seemed to make sure his good side was framed in the camera at all times. She had much more fun with Justin.”
“I couldn’t tell him apart from the rhinoceros.”
“You’re bigger than he is, Bubble Bill.”
“Ha, ha.” Bubble Bill rang a bell. “But, Juicy, you’re still missing the point. Aaron was the ballplayer. He was the stud. He was the only hunk left.”
“They’re all handsome men,” Juicy said.
“You only say that because you’re as hard up as Jazz is,” Bubble Bill said. “She probably couldn’t handle Aaron anyway. Aaron was a man.”
“Lame date. Lame chili. Lame poem. Aaron was lame.”
“And Arthur isn’t lame?”
“No.”
Bubble Bill laughed. “How can you still be rootin’ for the white guy, Juicy. He’s at least fifty.”
“Well, if he’s older than thirty, he wears it well,” Juicy said. “I’d go out with him.”
“You went out with me once, and that ain’t sayin’ much.”
Juicy groaned. “We never went out, Bubble Bill.”
“Must have been another Juicy, then,” Bubble Bill said. “Speaking of juicy, the white boy’s chicken wasn’t juicy at all.”