Page 65 of Bless This Hot Mess
Suwarna ticked a checkbox on her clipboard with satisfaction, “Double the rate. Worth it.”
No one noticed that out in the lobby, the phone was already ringing again. Then the fax machine rang down the hall, a shrill and insistent bleat like a goat in heat. Everyone froze, the room still thick with their sweat and the curiousarousal and anxiety caused by the pressure of the cold read of the Ware Wear & Wares spot.
“I’ll get it,” Carrington said breathlessly, and they tottered out in their too-high shoes, sequins flashing in the low hallway fluorescents. Trinity slumped in their studio chairs like marathon runners at the finish line. Minutes later, Carrington returned, face pale and hands trembling as though they had just glimpsed Jesus’ face in the printer tray. “It was him,” they whispered, “Micah.”
“Is he here?” Japheth asked, jumping up from his chair and smoothing down his shirt.
Rebekkah crossed her arms, still fanning herself with the crumpled script, “Please don’t tell me he wants us to do another cold read today. I don’t have enough emotional range for back-to-back spontaneous character arcs.”
“No,” Carrington said, ignoring Rebekkah and addressing Japheth as he looked more precariously on edge, “He’s not here. He sent anemail.”
“An email!?” they collectively queried.
Carrington held up a freshly printed sheet, still warm from the clunky beige printer in the lobby. The heading read:
FROM: Micah Ware, Esquire
TO: WWJD
Carrington cleared their throat with the gravitas of a town crier before reading aloud,
“Dearest Trinity,
What you did today was not an advertisement.It was a revelation. It was not radio; it was resurrection. Hearing your voices wrap themselves around my vision of Ware Wear & Wares was like feeling the hand of God adjust the waistband of my chinos. Youarethe future of fashion. Youarethe fabric of my destiny. Japheth…”
“Wait, what?” Japheth sat down and then shot up onto his feet again, cheeks flushing, “He wrotemyname?Correctly?”
Carrington squinted at the page, “Yes. He singled you out. And knew you’d be the type to use a ph. I don’t understand why you don’t just get f’d. Sure, you’re keeping company with Ralph, Rudolph, Joseph, Randolph, Dolph, and Moseph. But youallcould have caused less confusion and saved everyone some ink by being Jafeth, Ralf, Rudolf, Josef, Randolf, Dolf and Mosef.”
“Moseph? Never mind. Keep reading!” Japheth demanded, sitting down again and waving his hand in the air in a circular motion. He leaned forward so far, he nearly toppled out of his chair as Carrington continued earnestly,
“Japheth, when you asked, ‘Where will you wear Ware Wear?’ I heard not simply a trite alliterative device placing homonyms in harmony but as a spiritual summons. You didn’t just say the words. You embodied them. YouareWare Wear. I can see you now, striding boldly through life in a Razzmatazz kimono blazer or lounging in my signature Ware Wear smoky topaz satiny towel-robe. You are not only my muse. You are my message.
Yours in fabric and faith,
Micah Ware
CEO, Designer, Orphan Advocate, Dreamer, Esquire.”
There was stunned silence. Then Ronald whistled low, “that man just about proposed marriage through an email about a satiny towel-robe.”
Rebekkah rolled her eyes so hard they nearly lodged in her sinuses, “You are my muse! You are my message? What even is a satiny towel-robe? Is it satin or terry cloth? What colour is smoky topaz?” She realized everyone was staring and that her jealousy of Japheth was perhaps showing, a little. “Youweregreat, Japheth. Really solid on the mic. No popping of Ps at all.”
Suwarna threw an arm around her favourite new employee at WWJD, “Great work today, Japheth. I always knewyouwere a star. Ialwaysknew. Carrington, if Micah’s willing to keep paying double the rate, I’ll officiate this wedding myself. In the lobby. I can bring my own priestess cape.”
As Carrington wondered what a priestess cape was, and why Suwarna had one, Japheth had already left the building, at least in spirit. His eyes were misty, faraway, as he imagined himself wrapped in satiny, terry-cloth towel robes and smoky topaz kimono blazers and dear Lord, Micah’s tan and taut embrace.
Chapter 10
Rainbow Bright Jesus
Some people find God in church pews, others in quiet contemplation before bed. Ronald, naturally, finds Him in free throws.
The basketball court sat on the edge of a tired suburban neighbourhood, the kind where every house had a chain-link fence and at least one questionable lawn ornament leaning crooked in the tall grass. The afternoon was brisk, the kind of crisp that promised a clear evening but still smelled faintly of a recent thunderstorm. Sneakers squeaked against the cracked asphalt, sharp and rubbery, and the hollow swoosh of a ball slipping through the chain net was followed by cheering coos that were equal parts congratulatory and cruel. A pack of pigeons, clearly ruffled, launched themselves into the sky with a furious flutter.
