A Good Man (41 page)

“Where’d you get this truck?” Sonya asked.

“Rent-A-Wreck,” John said. “This is the quintessential American truck.”

“But how did it get there?” Sonya asked.

“As soon as I knew where we were supposed to be going,” John said, “I called up Rent-A-Wreck and paid a little extra for them to drop it off for me.”

“Where are we going?” Sonya asked.

John let out a long breath. “We’re just going, Sonya. Up one-oh-one and just … going. A real date. No cameras. No microphones. Just two people out for an adventure.”

Sonya held tightly to the armrest on the door. “Will this thing get us there?”

I hope so. He checked the gas gauge. “Yep. Full tank. We’ll need it.”

“A long trip, then,” Sonya said.

“About three hours. Consider it an escape to reality.”

A Volvo cut in front of him without the courtesy of a turn signal. “I hate that. I can’t read your mind, sir. God bless you, sir. Yes, God bless you. No, God bless you. That wasn’t a gang sign, was it?”

“No,” Sonya said. “He’s just rude. He cuts you off then flips you off and curses you. I hate that. No wonder my car insurance is so high. It’s fools like that who make everyone else pay higher premiums.”

John looked in all his mirrors. “Where is all this traffic coming from? Everyone seems to have the same idea today. Back home, there is no Saturday traffic.”

“I’d rather take the long way home than deal with traffic any day,” Sonya said. “I know all the side streets in Charlotte.”

John pushed the power button on the radio. Nothing happened. “No radio.”

“You can sing to me.”

“I don’t have much of a voice left after last night.” He fiddled with the radio again, even tapping it. “I don’t much like top-forty music these days anyway. It all sounds the same to me.”

“I haven’t heard a decent song in years,” Sonya said. “Except for last night. That was wonderful.”

“I was so nervous.”

“You didn’t look nervous,” Sonya said.

“The shoes were too big,” John said. “I had to stuff socks into the ends. I almost fell a few times. Until I had you up there to steady me. I hope I didn’t embarrass you.”

“Not at all,” Sonya said. “I haven’t danced with anyone since high school.”

And I haven’t danced since the night before Sheila died. Boo, what are you doing back in my head again? What was the song? Keith Sweat’s “Nobody.” And after you left me, I became one.

“Are you thinking about Sheila?” Sonya asked softly.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“We danced the night before she died,” John said. “In the dark, though, not in front of the world.”

“That’s sweet.”

“It was so cold that night, yet …” Geez, I’m about to cry, even after fifteen years. Get a grip! I finally get to be alone with Sonya, and I want to cry? He blinked rapidly. “Your body was so hot last night.”

“Was it now?”

“I mean, I was burning up in that robe and the Afro,” John said. “I’m sure my head lost weight. I didn’t expect your body to be as hot as mine was.”

“I was flushed with the intense heat of your crooning,” Sonya said.

Flushed? “Is that a good thing?”

“It’s a very good thing, John.”

I like very good things. “So if I dance with you again, will your body get as hot?”

“You’ll have to try it and see,” Sonya said. “I may burst into flames.”

“Like the phoenix, huh?”

Sonya sighed. “My sister can be so snooty sometimes.”

John hit the power button on the radio. Still nothing. “I wish we had a working radio so I could pull over and we could practice.”

Sonya patted the bench seat. “We could do a front-seat-of-an-old-Ford-truck dance.”

“Might be squeaky.”

And there’s that silence again. I say three words, and poof! But this silence isn’t hearing-crickets silence. It’s comfortable. It’s easy. It’s calm. He looked sideways at Sonya’s left leg. It’s even sexy.

“I have really missed talking to you, John,” Sonya said. “You don’t know how much. You made such an impression on me in such a short time, and then poof! Aaron’s stupid rule, which we’re still keeping though he’s long gone. Why is that?”

“I don’t know. Safety in numbers? Yeah. That’s probably it.”

“You don’t feel safe around me?”

Safer than I’ve ever felt, actually. “It’s not that. It’s your safety I’m worried about. Widowed and alone for fifteen years. Hot woman in the house who might burst into flame the next time she dances. Both of us early risers. Darkness that early in the morning. There’s no telling what I might try to do if I were alone with you again. We’d set off every smoke alarm in Malibu.”

“What might you try, John?” Sonya asked.

And now arrive very carnal thoughts. “How ’bout them Lakers, huh?”

Sonya laughed. “What might you try?”

And now even more carnal thoughts involving a back rub. Should I tell her what I’ve been dreaming lately? Geez. “Are you going to keep asking that question until I answer it?”

“Yes.”

John sighed. “That Kobe Bryant. What a ballplayer.”

“Tell me,” Sonya said. “What might you try?”

“Nothing … untoward.”

“There’s an ancient word,” Sonya said.

“I’m an ancient guy.”

“No, you’re not. What would you try?”

Carnal thoughts, back off a minute, okay? “I’d try just to hold you for a while. Okay, more than just a while.”

Sonya’s left hand gripped the edge of the seat. “I’m suddenly not feeling so safe.”

“You’re in no danger.” Me? Yeah. I’m in danger. Her very presence tempts me.

“This bench seat has a seat belt in the middle,” Sonya said. “Tempting.”

And to think I originally wanted a vehicle that had captain’s chairs. Thank you, Rent-A-Wreck.

Sonya unbuckled her seat belt, slid over, and buckled up again. “I may rub against your thigh.”

“Will you purr?” John asked.

“I’m not a cat.”

“You were a stallion the first night I saw you.”

Sonya slapped his thigh. “I was not!”

“Quite a mane you wore for the main event.”

“Stop.”

“You made me hoarse just looking at you,” John said.

Sonya squeezed his thigh. “No more.”

John smiled. “Mission accomplished.”

“Pretty slick,” Sonya said. She ran her palm from his upper thigh to his knee and back. “You don’t have to annoy me to get me to touch you.”

“Message received.” My thighs adore you. Don’t stop rubbing.

“John, can I ask you anything, anything at all, and you’ll give me an answer to whatever I ask?”

This sounds dangerous. I like danger. “Sure.”

“Anything? I might ask you something crazy.”

I expect her to do that. “Ask away, and don’t be surprised if I ask you the same question.”

“Oh.” Sonya removed her hand from John’s thigh. “Um, do you ever … No, I can’t ask that.”

She’ll ask anyway, John thought.

“Do you ever … dream about me?” Sonya asked.

“Yes. I’ve had two dreams about you, both of them very nice.”

“Oh.” Sonya folded her hands together. “Two dreams?”

“Yes. Want to know what I dreamed?”

“Um, no,” Sonya said. “I was only curious if you dreamed about me. I’m not sure if I want to … know all the details.”

Aha! She said all that while she was smiling. She wants me to tell her. “We were on the beach in the first one and at a lake in the second one. We were outdoors, and then—”

“Um, what are some of your pet peeves, John?” Sonya interrupted.

“You don’t want to know what happened to you in my dreams?”

“I can … imagine.” She twisted her hands in her lap.

“I have a very passionate imagination. What do you think happened?”

Sonya looked out her window. “So … about those pet peeves. I don’t like people who pray to hear themselves pray. God has to have a great deal of patience.”

John slid his hand to Sonya’s thigh. “You really don’t want to know what I dreamed.”

“I do, but I don’t.”

John laced his fingers into her left hand. “It was a great dream, Sonya.”

Sonya squeezed his hand. “Mission accomplished.”

Sneaky woman.

“Okay, what happened?” Sonya asked.

“We walked along the beach and went swimming in the lake.” Said the spider to the fly …

“That’s … all?”

John sighed. “That’s all I want to tell you.”

“Oh. But what if I ask you to tell me more?”

“I’ll tell you.”

Sonya nodded. “Okay. Tell me … one thing … that’s not too untoward.”

So many things were untoward … “You look very nice in a bikini.”

Sonya gripped his hand firmly. “I was wearing a bikini?”

“Yes. Red. Very tight. Low-cut. Had little ties on the sides and, um, in front.” Is her hand getting moist or is mine?

“Is that how you want to see me, John?” Sonya asked.

I want to see you anyway I can, Sonya. “That’s what you were wearing in the beach dream. And, yes, I wouldn’t mind seeing you that way.”

“I don’t wear bikinis.”

“In my dreams you do.”

“What were you wearing?” Sonya asked.

“A smile.”

“No, really.”

“Really. That was all I was wearing. I have fewer clothes in my dreams than I do in real life. I’m sure that has some deep psychological significance.” Either that or I’m really horny in my dreams.

“You were …” Sonya’s voice faded. “But why was I dressed?”

“Who’s to say you were dressed the entire time?” John said.

Sonya didn’t speak.

Is she panting a little? No, that’s me. “And this is making me intensely hot.” He rolled down his window a few inches. “You were, um, talking about prayer. Yes, I believe that some people pray selfishly. I believe we should praise Him, thank Him, ask Him, and then say amen.”

“Amen. Um, are you really hot, John?”

John rolled down his window to the bottom. “Yes. Um, you know, about those pet peeves. I can’t stand people who ask, ‘How ya doin’?’ when they really don’t care how you’re doin’. I sometimes say, ‘Do you really want to know how I’m doin’?’ And they all say, ‘Huh?’ every time. They don’t even listen to the answer to their question. I know they’re just trying to be polite, but when I ask, ‘How are you?’ I will listen to the answer.” And now I’m babbling like an idiot.

Sonya used both hands to hold his. “A red bikini, huh?”

Does she have to put the back of my hand on her thigh like that? “And I was just cooling off. Um, what can’t you stand, Sonya?”

Sonya picked up his hand and kissed several fingers. “I can’t stand people who don’t speak to me when I speak to them.” She set his hand on her thigh again.

“Sheila used to accuse me of that. ‘You got no home training,’ she’d tell me.”

“Did Sheila ever wear a bikini?” Sonya asked.

I never should have mentioned the bikini. “No. She wore a one-piece, like you. I mean, she had to wear a one-piece after the Flo-rala State Park incident.”

“Do I want to hear this?” She flipped his hand over, his palm on her thigh.

My hand is now squeezing that thigh on its own. I have no control over it.

“Tell me what happened,” Sonya said.

“We went camping, small lake, no one around. She had this bikini that didn’t exactly cover her entirely, kind of like the one Shani wears, and long story short, she lost her top. It’s probably still in that little lake. That’s when she vowed never to wear a bikini again. I didn’t mind it, of course.” And I swear her leg is about to catch fire. No. That’s my hand.

Sonya smiled. “What … else … happened in your dreams?”

Think of something safe. Oh, that wasn’t. And that was dangerous, so close to the fire, but afterward … “We held hands kind of like this.”

“On the beach or at the lake?” Sonya asked.

“Only on the beach,” John said. “We, um … held each other in the lake. The water was very cold, so we had to hold on to each other tightly.”

“Oh. And that was when I was wearing the red bikini.”

“Um, no. Not then.” John tried to turn on the air-conditioner. “The AC doesn’t work either. Yeah, how about them pet peeves?”

Sonya returned John’s hand to his thigh. “Yeah. The pet peeves.” She unbuckled her seat belt, slid over to her window, rolled it down, and slid back.

I need a new topic that will not arouse me so much. “Um, I can’t stand TV sports announcers.”

“Neither can I!” Sonya said. “A guy drives in for a layup, and the announcer says, ‘He can do that, Norm.’ It’s so obvious that he just did it! Or the quarterback throws an interception and the announcer says, ‘He shouldn’t have thrown that one.’ Uh, duh.”

“What about the stupid phrases they say over and over. ‘They’re high on him.’ ‘The young freshman.’”

“Some of these freshmen are getting old,” Sonya said. “How about ‘incontrovertible visual evidence’ on a replay in pro football? I don’t even know what ‘incontrovertible’ means.”

This is fun. “What about, ‘He’s showing a lot of athleticism out there today’?”

“Is ‘athleticism’ even a word?” Sonya asked.

“I think it is now.” He reached for her hand.

Sonya took it.

“What about… ‘He’s shooting a three-ball!’”

Sonya nodded. “Which makes a free throw a one-ball.”

“Ouch,” John said.

Sonya giggled.

I like that sound.

“Um, John, how long were we in the water?” Sonya asked.

And now I’m in my dream again. “We lasted …” Oops. “I mean, we took our time in the water. And then I woke up.”

“You woke up? Why?”

Because my body woke me up. “How about this one: ‘Norm, he’s got a hamstring.’ I hope he has two! Or ‘The X-rays on his head were negative.’ That figures. All those concussions in football these days—”

“Why’d you wake up, John?” Sonya interrupted.

“Or ‘That was a terrible pass, shot, swing,’ as if the announcer could ever do that on his best day.”

“Were you excited?” Sonya asked.

Very much so. If my pillow had hands, it would have slapped me. “These athletes today. They’re all about themselves.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Sonya said.

John nodded. “I couldn’t sleep a wink afterward either.”

Sonya picked up his hand and kissed his palm. “I can’t stand athletes who think they’re more important than the rest of the team. I tune in to watch a team play, not you, fool. Um, you were too excited to go back to sleep?”