Page 20 of Bless This Hot Mess

Come on sexy Jesus, everything feels so right.

Come on sexy Jesus, I need that holy spray

Baptize me now, let’s wash my sins away!

Come on sexy Jesus, lay me down real deep,

I’m praying for You to rock me till I sleep.

Come on sexy Jesus, make me feel divine,

I’m your faithful lover, let me taste the wine!

Oh, oh, oh, Jesus! You’ve got me feeling blessed,

But deep inside, I’m just a holy mess.

Come on sexy Jesus, touch me with Your grace,

Take me to Heaven at Your perfect pace!

Come on sexy Jesus, fill me with ecstasy,

Just like St. Theresa–oh, pierce me, please!

Pierce mewith Your… with Your… with Your…

Pierce me with Your… oh, oh, oh! Jesus!”

His voice cracked with the final note, his eyes squeezing shut in a blend of passion and prayer. He opened one eye, peeking at the calendar. Sexy Jesus looked back down at him, and Japheth could have sworn that He winked.

LISTEN toCome on Sexy Jesus

Convincing a basketball star to join their band was a long shot, but if Jesus could walk on water, surely, He could alley-oop them through this.

The basketball court stretched out under the fading sun, the heat from the asphalt still radiating into the evening air. The distant hum of cicadas mingled with the rhythmic squeak of sneakers on pavement, the thud of a basketball bouncing like a heartbeat echoing through the empty park.

The court itself was little more than a cracked concrete slab, with bobbing yellow dandelions laying down opportunistic roots and claiming the less than fertile ground as their urban home. There was a sagging chain-link fence on three sides and a patch of overgrown grass on the fourth. Faded white and yellow lines, half-erased by time and wear, marked the boundaries of the game in a nod to geometric abstract art.

Rebekkah and Japheth emerged from the far edge and stepped off the overgrown grass, their shoes sticking slightly to the warm pavement, still unsure about their approach. A breeze swept through the trees lining the court, rustling the leaves and carrying the faint smell of freshly cut grass from a neighbour more mindful than the city park custodians. The air was humid, thick with the promise of a summer night that hadn’t yet cooled down. Beads of sweat gathered at the back of Rebekkah’s neck, and she tugged her shirt away from her skin as they watched Ronald.

He was alone, dribbling with effortless precision, his sneakers squeaking in perfect rhythm with his play. Every move he made seemed calculated, like he wasn’t just playing basketball, but dancing with the ball, his body pivoting, crouching, leaping, hovering, above the asphalt beneath his feet.

He was shorter than they’d expected, no more than 5’2”,but the way he moved made him seem larger than life. His dark, muscular frame glistened with sweat, his skin the deep shade of polished mahogany, with shoulder muscles like two scoops of chocolate ice cream heaped on his long and lean arms. His basketball shorts, hanging precariously low on his hips, seemed to defy gravity with every leap and bound.

“So, all we have to do is…” Japheth said quietly, his eyes glued to Ronald as he seemed to tango with his shadow across the court.

“... walk up to him and say, hey, we have a proposition for ya,” Rebekkah finished Japheth’s sentence, her tone conspiratorial, and her accent, new and not quite defined, attempted to marry with her mouth, but the engagement was a mess.

Japheth shot her a side-eye, “A proposition? It’s a bit too corporate sounding. I would also lose the accent, Rebekkah. Whatever it was… Polish mafia? Needs some work before a showcase of this importance.”

Rebekkah rolled her eyes and suggested, “A proposal?” The Polish mafioso accent still marbled her mouth.

“Uh-uh. Sounds indecent,” Japheth grimaced. “Or like a marriage.”

“Japheth, this is like a marriage,” Rebekkah said firmly. “It’s our band. It’s ride or die. For life. And now, we need to stir in this… tall drink of holy moly, isthatRonald?! Okay, stir in that short drink but still, holy moly!”

Japheth squinted as Ronald dribbled toward the hoop, “I think so? I mean, Suwarna and Carrington said we could find him here, driving to the hoop. He’s the only one here, so I’m guessing that’s him.”