A Good Man (40 page)

The boy is definitely workin’ it, Sonya thought. Way too much for my taste, and only, it seems, for Kim. Did Babyface gyrate like that? I don’t think so. Tony hasn’t even made eye contact with me yet. The nerve! I’m not that mad about it, cuz the boy can sing and I’ve never seen that look on Kim’s face. She almost seems scared, anxious, and hyped at the same time. Is that what love is? Being scared, anxious, and hyped that you won’t get picked by the one you love? I’m so scared John will bomb this challenge and give up completely, but I’m also hyped that, miracle of miracles, he’s gonna nail it.

And all this is making me anxious!

After Tony bowed and blew a kiss in the general direction of their table, Sonya grabbed Kim’s arm. “You can put your tongue back in your mouth now, Shani.”

Kim closed her mouth.

“Next on our show tonight,” Graham said, “is Gary, singing Luther Vandross’s ‘A House Is Not a Home.’”

Strange choice, and yet … it’s not. And dag, he looks absolutely huge in that velvet purple suit. And, yes, he’s sangin’ it, and a whole lot deeper than Luther did. But he’s not singing it to me or to Kim. He’s only looking into the cameras. He’s singing to his baby mama back home. He’s singing to his children. That is so sweet. Maybe this is what love is. Ignoring the world and focusing only on the people we love.

Gary did a simple bow and left the stage.

“Third on our song-and-dance program,” Graham said, “is Justin, singing Biz Markie’s ‘Just a Friend.’”

No … way! As good a voice as that man has, he’s singing that song? He’s nailing it, though, and Kim and I are trippin’ fierce! So funny! And he’s so nimble on his feet, spinning, sliding, clapping, doing a one-man cha-cha slide with a little mashed potato thrown in. But of course. The man loves him some potatoes.

Justin moonwalked off the stage.

“That man is a trip,” Kim said.

Sonya nodded. Maybe he’s no longer “Jumbo” to her anymore. There is always something more to a person than meets the eye.

Graham returned to the stage holding a card. “Um, I’ve just been handed this card.”

“Duh,” Kim said before Sonya could think it.

“It reads: ‘One moment while we change into costume for the grand finale.’” Graham slipped the card into his pocket. “I guess they’re, um, changing, for the, um, grand finale.”

“What grand finale?” Kim asked. “Arthur hasn’t gone yet.”

“Maybe Arthur is the grand finale.” And there go my feet again. Geez, I’m gonna need another foot rub soon!

Justin, Tony, and Gary entered the stage wearing African robes, bell bottoms, and big Afros. They look exactly like Earth, Wind and Fire! Which song? And where’s John?

John stepped onto the stage wearing a golden African robe, a smaller Afro, and shiny white platform shoes.

Oh … my … goodness. Am I breathing? Is that really John?

The intro to “Reasons” filled the air.

Oh … wow. “Reasons”! O … M … G … This is … wow. He hit the first note! He’s really crooning, and he’s hitting all the notes. This is … wow. And he craves my body, oh, yes, Lord! I am definitely in the wrong place for any of this to be real, but this is real, this song is real, what he’s singing to me is real—but only for one night? I know it’s just a song, but that’s all I’ve wanted, one date, one night, and this show is a game of love, all right. And he even sang “hypnotized” instead of “hypnotized”! Oh, squeeze me real tight all night! Who cares if your Afro’s slipping over your eyes—

What’s this?

He’s beckoning to me?

Sonya stood, mesmerized by the man with the falling Afro and the three men behind him dancing absolutely in synch. She ran up to that stage and stuck out her hand.

John pulled her up onstage with him.

And now he’s singing to me and we’re dancing and his hand is dangerously low on my back and his voice is so pure, so right, and his eyes never leave mine and, God, please keep me from laughing at the line dance back there because now they’re doing some old Jackson Five moves and I’m smiling so much my face may explode all over this stage and the cameras and, hey, his thigh is getting right frisky with mine, and he’s pulling me in for a … hug … and he’s doing it right, he’s doing it right and it feels like love and … Oh, a whispered “thank you” in my ear … And why does the music have to end? Why couldn’t this be an extended version?

As the music faded to nothing, Kim broke the silence with loud laughter. “Oh … my … God!” she shouted over and over.

John led Sonya down the stairs and back to her chair. He bowed before her.

Sonya started clapping.

“You can’t be serious!” Kim shouted.

“That … that was amazing,” Sonya said.

“Yeah, it was,” Kim said. “It will be a viral hit on the Internet in seconds under ‘White Guy Can’t Sing or Dance.’ That was too funny!”

He won, he won, he won, he won … my heart.

The Team arranged themselves onstage while Sonya tried to remember how to breathe.

“And now it’s time for Jazz and Shani to give the Team feedback,” Graham said. “First up is Tony.”

Where am I? Am I back on earth yet? “Um, Tony, you were workin’ it. You kind of worked it more for Shani than for me, though, huh?”

“I’ll say,” Kim said. She fanned the air in front of her face. “You got that whip appeal, boy. You can work it on me anytime.”

“Next up is Gary,” Graham said.

“Gary, you really sanged it,” Sonya said. “I love me some old Luther.”

Kim shook her head. “Not very romantic, though. You could have chosen something more appropriate. And you didn’t move from your spot the entire time.”

“Luther didn’t dance that much either, Shani,” Sonya said.

“He was supposed to sing and dance,” Kim said. “He didn’t dance.”

Sonya smiled at Gary. “Gary, I felt it.” Ignore her. She’s very young.

“You need your hearing checked, too, Jazz,” Kim said. “He was flat. And Luther didn’t sing it that low either.”

“It moved me, Gary,” Sonya said. “Thank you.”

“Next is Justin,” Graham said.

“Justin, funny as usual,” Sonya said. “I think Biz Markie would be jealous. I mean, you actually sang the song instead of whatever Biz Markie did to it.”

“You seriously need to be on Def Comedy Jam,” Kim said. “Or on Dancing with the Stars. You got some serious moves, man.”

“I couldn’t help singing along,” Sonya said.

“And last up is Arthur,” Graham said.

John took off the Afro.

There’s my man. Sweaty but sweet. “Arthur, man, it’s about time. You kilt that song.”

Kim laughed. “I’ll say.”

Sonya stared Kim down. “I meant that in a good way, Shani. That is one of my all-time favorite songs. You amazed me. I can’t sing those notes, even in the shower. And you guys kilt the backgrounds. Y’all should go on tour.”

“Ahem,” Kim said. “Artie, darling, you hit a majority of the notes. Some of those notes, though. Ouch. Pitchy. They sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard. And if that was dancing, I’d rather not go to the prom, know what I’m saying?”

Now that’s enough, Kim. “He danced with me just fine.”

“He was supposed to dance alone, Jazz.”

“You only said he had to dance,” Sonya said. “You didn’t say he couldn’t dance with me.”

Kim shook her head rapidly. “But that wasn’t dancing, Jazz. That was some in-the-basement-with-the-lights-out-hoping-no-one-sees-you, old-school slow-dragging.”

“Yes, it was. I like in-the-basement-with-the-lights-out-hoping-no-one-sees-you, old-school slow-dragging. By the way, Arthur, I love your shoes.”

John looked down at his shiny white platform shoes. “I don’t.” He kicked them off into the pool. “Much better.”

“Jazz!” Kim shouted. “That’s twice this man has taken off his shoes in front of you.” Kim fanned the air in front of her nose.

Sonya stood and kicked her own shoes off, one flopping into the pool. “What’s your point, Shani?”

“Artie, darling, you are no singer,” Kim said, “and I can’t call what you did dancing. It looked more like you were boxing with Jazz than dancing with her. I give you a C-minus for effort and a D-minus for execution.”

When will she stop? “Shani, you didn’t give grades to the others.”

“Because they were all B or better,” Kim said.

“Don’t listen to her, Arthur,” Sonya said. “It was wonderful. Truly wonderful. I’ll have that song in my head for the rest of the night.” And maybe even for the rest of my days.

“And now,” Graham said, “Jazz and Shani will consult with each other to choose the winner.”

Sonya walked up onto the stage and stood in front of John. “Not this time.”

“What?” Kim yelled.

“The clear and obvious winner is … Arthur.” She held up her arms, and John pulled her up onstage. “Give me another hug. I’m your biggest fan.”

Oh, yes, this is the hug, and, yes, it feels like love, and he’s the one giving it to me.

“Finally,” John whispered. “The last are finally first.”

“I can’t wait for our date,” Sonya whispered. She turned to Graham but didn’t let go of John. “Where are we going on our date, Graham?”

Graham looked out at a cue card. “After an intimate lunch at Café Provençal, you’ll be whisked away to a special showing of Warner Brothers’ next blockbuster movie, Goodfellas: Older but Wiser Guys, in theaters this July. And you’ll have the entire theater all to yourselves.”

Dinner and a movie. Okay. “What else?”

Graham squinted. “There’s nothing else on the card.”

That can’t be all! Sonya looked for Bob or Larry. “That’s … it? Lunch and a movie? For what Arthur just did? He earned much more than that. We should be going on a jet to San Francisco or Hawaii or Tahiti or something.”

John pulled her back to him. “It’s okay. At least we’ll be alone.”

“With fifty cameras seeing us in all our aloneness,” Sonya said. “Where’s the justice in that?”

John put his warm lips on her ear, whispering, “Dress as if you’re going hiking. Wear long sleeves and a Windbreaker and shoes you don’t mind getting wet, and please don’t ask why.” He moved his head back and winked.

“Okay.” Yes! We are so not going to dinner and a movie.

John stepped back from the embrace, but he still held Sonya’s hands. “This robe is scorching hot. I need to cool off.” He put his Afro back on his head. “I need a bath.” He smiled. “And look—there’s a big ol’ bathtub right over there. Go get your suit on.”

In two steps and a leap, John flew into the pool.

The Afro floated to the top.

In moments, three more Afros were floating in the pool as the rest of Earth, Wind and Fire did cannonballs into the pool.

Sonya didn’t want to miss the fun.

She jumped in fully clothed …

And danced in the water with her Afro-less prince.

Several hours later, a towel on her head, Sonya lay on her bed and tried not to let Kim piss her off.

“What were you two whispering?” Kim asked.

“Nothing.”

“Right. What are you two planning?” Kim put her laptop on Sonya’s bed. “I know you’re planning something.”

“I’m not planning anything,” Sonya said. John is.

Kim looked at her screen. “The online folks think you’re giving Artie Fartie a pity date.”

“I’m not,” Sonya said. “He earned that date. The only pity is that we haven’t gone out on a date until now.”

Kim sighed. “If you were playing by the rules, he wouldn’t even be here.”

“Good thing I don’t play by the rules, then,” Sonya said. Hmm. I should be getting my clothes ready. She went to the dresser and pulled out a blue and black flannel shirt and a pair of jeans, taking them to the bed to iron.

“Long sleeves and jeans?” Kim said. “It’s supposed to be warm tomorrow.”

“Movie theaters are always too cold for me,” Sonya said. And it’s not an outright lie. Movie theaters are always too cold for me.

As she ironed and Kim droned on and on about how John didn’t deserve to win, Sonya tried to figure out their destination. Maybe we’re going hiking. Yosemite? Can’t be. That’s at least seven hours away by car. Maybe we’ll just go walking in the woods. I’d like that. Just holding hands with John in the woods. And dodging bears. Do they have bears in Southern California? John will protect me. He said to wear shoes I didn’t mind getting wet. A Windbreaker.

Yes.

We’re going to the beach.

To watch a sunset.

I hope this works, John thought.

While two camera crews set up at Café Provençal, John and Sonya sat at a table looking at the menu. John slipped a simple note into his menu—“Go to BR, take exit instead, orange truck, c u in 3”—and slid his menu to Sonya.

“I think I have a different menu,” he whispered.

Sonya exchanged her menu with his, opened it up, read the note, and nodded. “Yes, it certainly is different.”

A few lights came on, as did the cameras.

And now, the flimflam begins.

“Jazz, what looks good to you?” John said, smiling and enunciating his words precisely.

Sonya pressed her lips together. “Well, Arthur, I think I’ll go with the three-course meal. How about you?”

“Oh, Jazz, I think I shall have the same.” He closed his menu.

Sonya put her menu on top of his.

John nodded.

“Oh,” Sonya said, “I have to go to the little girls’ room.” She pushed back her chair.

“Oh, do hurry, Jazz,” John said. “I hear the service here is excellent. I wouldn’t want your food to get cold.”

“Oh, I will hurry, Arthur.”

I am about to crack up completely, John thought. He watched Sonya moving toward the bathrooms. And now, it’s my turn. He drummed on the table. He hummed “Already Gone” by the Eagles. He straightened his napkin.

And then he smelled his hands. “Oh my,” he said to the camera. “I have forgotten to wash my hands. I must go do that. I will be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” He stood and waved at the camera. “See you soon.”

John walked casually to the bathroom, then zipped past it to an exit, slipped outside, located the orange truck—hey, it’s a Ford F-150!—and got in, Sonya already buckled in. He pulled down the visor, and keys dropped into his hand.

“Hurry!” Sonya whispered.

John started the truck, crept out of the parking lot, and pulled out onto the Pacific Coast Highway. Neither spoke until they were five minutes away from Café Provençal.