A Good Man (48 page)

“Too fast to make a simple phone call?” his dad said. “We had to hear it from Mrs. Crosley, and you know how we don’t like to hear anything from her.”

Mrs. Crosley, professional church gossip. She has to be a hundred and ten by now. “I’m sorry. Did you watch tonight?”

“We have to watch now,” his dad said.

“James, please,” his mom said. “Yes, John, we watched. I’m so proud of you. You made it to the final two.”

“Which surprises me,” his dad said. “You only had one date with the girl, and you had to go running off somewhere where no one could find you.”

“Yeah, Dad, story of my life, huh?” I shouldn’t have said that. “We wanted some privacy, and I got it for us. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Well, it sends the wrong message,” his dad said. “It puts carnal thoughts in people’s minds.”

“Dad, if you had all those cameras on you twenty-four hours a day, you’d try to escape, too.”

“Where did you go?” his mom asked.

“To the beach for a real date,” John said.

“Sounds romantic,” his mom said.

“So why are you calling now?” his dad asked.

“I want you to meet Sonya.”

“Who?” his dad said.

“Jazz. Sonya is her real name.”

“I told you, Phyllis,” his dad said. “No one names their kid Jazz.”

I have too much of my father in me. “So could you come down to Alabama and meet her? She’s visiting New Orleans, Tony’s hometown, first, and then she’ll be coming to Burnt Corn.”

“That’s not your hometown,” his dad said.

“It is my hometown, Dad. It’s where I make my home.”

“You can’t make a home alone, Son,” his dad said.

“Which is why I want to fill my home with Sonya, Dad.”

“In the same house where you and Sheila lived?” his dad said.

I’m surprised he remembered her name. “To start.”

“What do you mean, to start?” his dad said. “You haven’t had any income to speak of in twenty years.”

“I get paid to be on this show, Dad. I have about ten thousand dollars to put down on a house.” And if I win, I’ll have fifty thousand more.

“That’s great, John,” his mom said. “Are you two planning to have children?”

“She hasn’t even picked him yet,” his dad said.

“Oh, she will,” his mom said. “I can see it in her eyes. And his eyes, too.”

“She might choose Tony, you know,” his dad said.

“He’s far too immature for her,” his mom said.

Should I tell them that Sonya is my age? “Um, Mom, there’s something you should know about Sonya.”

“No, no, John,” his mom said. “Don’t tell me any of her secrets.”

“She has secrets?” his dad asked.

“That’s how these shows work, dear,” his mom said. “She’s going to reveal her secrets on the last show. Isn’t that right, John?”

“Yeah, Mom. She’s going to reveal quite a few things.”

“She is very pretty,” his mom said. “And so kind. I love her smile.”

“Her sister’s a piece of work, though,” his dad said. “Can you imagine having her visit you two?”

No. “Um, there’s something … weird going on here.”

“At the airport?” his mom said, her voice rising.

“No, Mom. This conversation. Y’all think I have a good chance of winning.”

“Oh, we know you’re going to win, John,” his mom said.

“We don’t know that, Phyllis,” his dad said. “I think John has a sixty-forty chance. You know how women are, John. Always changing their minds. And that Tony and Shani have more in common anyway. Are her tattoos real?”

They have really been watching. “Yes, Dad. They’re real.”

“Can you see her as a grandmother holding a grandchild with that dragon on her skin?” his dad asked. “I can’t.”

“I can’t either, Dad.”

“Your mother has the whole church praying for you,” his dad said.

“It sure makes Wednesday prayer meetings more interesting,” his mom said.

This is … surreal. “Um, so do you think y’all could come down for a visit? You’ll both be on TV.”

“Oh, goody,” his mom said.

“What’s good about being on TV?” his dad asked. “I read online that it adds fifteen pounds to you.”

My dad goes online? Man, has he changed.

“You don’t look fat at all, John,” his mom said.

“Thanks, Mom. So … will you … come down and meet her? Sonya will be in Burnt Corn Friday through Sunday.”

“It’s kind of short notice, Son,” his dad said, “but I’ll see what I can do. I’m not making any promises.”

“We’ll try to be there, John,” his mom said.

“Y’all can do better than see what you can do and try to be there,” John said angrily. “I need you to come down to meet her this weekend.”

“And we’ll try to get there, Son,” his dad said. “I have to see if we can get a flight out on very short notice.”

“You’re not hearing me, Dad. I need you to meet her. I haven’t asked either of you for anything since Sheila’s funeral. I need you to meet my future wife.”

“Have you asked her already?” his mom asked. “Will your proposal be on the next show?”

“No, Mom. I haven’t asked her yet. I just know in my heart that she will be my wife.”

“If she chooses you,” his dad said.

“I’m positive that she will, Dad.”

“You’re asking a lot of us, Son,” his dad said.

“No, I’m not, Dad. And I’m tired of asking. I’m telling you to come down and meet her.”

“What’d I tell you, Phyllis?” his dad said.

“Yes, you did, dear,” his mom said.

“Told her what, Dad?” John asked.

“That her attitude would rub off on you,” his dad said.

“Her attitude? Sonya is a wonderful, loving woman.”

“Could have fooled me,” his dad said. “She orders around that announcer fellow to death. I’m surprised that he didn’t pack his bags and leave tonight, too. He might as well have, all the good he does for the show.”

John heard his flight being called. “Look, my flight is getting ready to board. Are you coming down or not?”

“Like I said,” his dad said, “this is short notice. I’ll have to check for available flights. Oh, yeah. And a rental car, though weekend rates will be cheaper. And a hotel.”

“I’ll pay you back for your expenses, Dad.”

“We can stay at that nice Holiday Inn we stayed at for Sheila’s funeral,” his mom said. “Oh, but didn’t you say those beds were too mushy for you?”

“Those beds killed my back,” his dad said.

“You can stay with me somehow,” John said. “Just … get down here, okay?”

“We’ll try,” his dad said. “Good hearing from you, Son.”

“Yeah. Um, good to hear your voices, too. Hope to see you soon.” He picked up his bag. “Gotta go.”

He looked at his phone and saw his battery down to one bar. I’ll just plug it in to an outlet—

Where’s my charger?

Back at the mansion.

Still plugged into the wall beside my bed.

I gave Sonya my number.

I do not have her number.

How can I call her?

He turned off his phone.

I hope she calls the next time I turn it on.

Sonya tried to call John immediately after he left the mansion in the limo.

She let it ring twenty times.

John probably forgot to turn on his phone.

She tried to call an hour later.

She let it ring twenty-five times.

Either it’s still not on or he’s not turning it on while he flies.

She tried a few hours later and heard a busy signal.

Yes!

She hit redial twenty-seven times until she heard: “The number you have reached … is not in service.”

He made a long call, then turned off his phone? What’s his deal? And what kind of crappy cell phone company does he have? No text. No voice mail.

Why didn’t I give him my number?

Oh, yeah. I don’t give out my number to anyone.

How am I going to talk to him?

The next day—between futile calls—Sonya met the entire Charpentier clan.

All thirty of them.

They swarmed her and Shani at the airport and created quite a disturbance. WB had to charter a bus to get them all to and from Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport.

On the short ride to the Terrytown, a suburb of New Orleans on the west bank of the Mississippi River, Sonya met all eleven of Tony’s siblings, his ancient mother and father, and seventeen cousins. She found out that Tony’s real name was Antonin, his nearest sister Antonette looked just like him, Mama Charpentier was Creole and black, and Père Charpentier was full Cajun. Everyone called her and Shani “Sha” or “Cher” as in, “Sha, you are so thin,” and, “Cher, you have such eyes!”

They toured New Orleans in a minibus and found places still boarded up and vacant since Katrina. They ate beignets, bisque, boudin, couche-couche, dirty rice, okra, gumbo, fried oyster po’ boys, tasso, and jambalaya. They spent the first night on Bourbon Street, working off all that food at the House of Blues.

These people never stay still! Sonya thought. They don’t even need sleep!

When the cameras were off and the crew finally gone from the Charpentiers’ split-level house, Sonya, Mama Charpentier, and Père Charpentier sat in rockers on the patio looking out at the above-ground pool and the stars.

“I guess I better explain what’s about to happen,” Sonya said. “Um, Tony and Shani are going out on a date.”

“No need to explain, Sha,” Mama Charpentier said in the most melodious accent. “I knew. You are not his type.”

Sonya smiled. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or hurt.”

Mama Charpentier smiled. “Oh, Antonin is a good boy.”

“He’s canaille, sneaky,” Père Charpentier said. “Good boy? No. He’s got the gumbo.”

“He means Antonin is too big for his britches,” Mama Charpentier said. “I have never seen him so … focused, you know?”

“No focus,” Père Charpentier said. “Motier foux.”

“Half crazy,” Mama Charpentier said. “Your half.”

“Always my half,” Père Charpentier said. “But, Jazz, it is really the other way around.”

Tony stuck his head out of the living room, Kim hovering behind him. “Ready?” he said.

Père Charpentier stood, shaking a set of keys from his pocket. “Do not wait up for us.”

Mama Charpentier cackled. “Do I ever?”

Père Charpentier puckered up and kissed his wife loudly. “All the time. We have twelve children. She waits for me.” He sauntered through the sliding glass door, shutting it behind him.

Mama Charpentier squinted. “So you tell me. How close are you to forty?”

There’s no use lying about it. “Right at it.”

“And John, your boo?”

“The same.”

Mama Charpentier tapped her temple. “I knew. You and he are in love.”

“I am. Not sure about him.”

Mama Charpentier rocked a few times. “He is, too.”

Do I tell her about “nope”? I’ve just met this woman … who already knows my age.

“So we play a charade for the cameras,” Mama Charpentier said, “and when they leave, we live.”

A fair way to put it. “Yes.”

Mama Charpentier nodded. “Tony and his père will keep your daughter safe.”

“It’s not Shani I’m worried about. It’s him.” What did she say? “How did you know that Shani was my daughter?”

“Sha, it is obvious. The way you look at her. The way you speak to her. You do not lie, and your eyes do not lie. They give you away. I had four sisters. I never look at them that way. I have many daughters. I know.” She laughed. “I will not tell anyone.”

“Thanks.”

“You were very young.”

Sonya sighed. “Yes. Too young.”

“And your boo does not know.”

This woman is amazing. “No. John doesn’t know.”

“And you are worried about this.”

Just another thing to worry about. “Yes.”

“This John is an amazing man. Strong. Focused. He will understand. You must call him.”

“I will.”

Mama Charpentier looked side to side. “The cameras are gone. You must call him now.” She stood. “I am tired. You will be all right?”

Sonya nodded.

“It will be all right, too.”

As soon as Mama Charpentier closed the sliding door, Sonya hit redial.

“Hello? Sonya?”

Finally. “What’s up with your phone?” Sonya asked.

“I only have one bar left,” John said, “and I left my charger plugged into the wall next to my bed at the mansion.”

“So get another charger.” Duh.

“I’ll go out and buy one tomorrow, but we have to talk fast now. Where are the two lovebirds?”

But I don’t want to talk fast! “Um, they’re out on a date to Richard’s in Lawtell, wherever that is, to listen to Rosie somebody play the accordion.”

“And you didn’t go?”

“To hear some accordion music? Really?”

“It’s zydeco music, and Rosie Ledet is one of the very best,” John said. “It ain’t the polka. They’ll be dancing all night.”

“Which will give me time to sweet-talk you until your battery dies.” She heard a banging noise. “What are you doing?”

“It’s supposed to be in the eighties Sunday, so I’m trying to fix the church’s air-conditioner.”

At this time of night? “With a hammer?”

“I tried everything else.”

Sonya heard a screeching sound. “What’s that?”

“The sound the air-conditioner makes when it’s working. The choir has to sing extra loud to drown it out.”

“Are you, um, done fixing things?” Sonya asked.

“I wish I was. I was gone a long time. I’ve used up two rolls of duct tape and a tube of plumber’s goop already.”

I like a man who is dedicated to his work but not when he’s supposed to be focusing on me. “Well, if you’re too busy to talk to me …”

“I’ll just come back tomorrow,” John said. “I have to keep my hands busy, Sonya.”

“Why?” Though I already know.

“You’re not here.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

“And, um, my parents are trying to get down here.”

He never talks about them. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

“You may have to,” John said. “They said they’d try, which means they might not make it down.”

“I hope to meet them.”

“I hope to see them.”

Sonya heard a crunching sound. “Where are you now?”

“I’m walking home.”

“Y’all have gravel roads?”

“I’m on the side of the road, Sonya. Where are you?”