And It Was Good (Jessica Christ Book 2)

by H. Claire Taylor

  Jess was surprised how much she liked that idea. If she couldn’t gain Eugene as an ally, at least Chris would have her back.

  “Is that okay?” she asked Eugene.

  The reporter looked at Chris, lifted a hefty brow, then looked back at Jess as a small smile slid across his face. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

  Having only ever done small-time interviews for local or school publications, the high-tech camera and lighting equipment intimidated her more than she’d expected.

  You’re the daughter of God! You can’t be scared of cameras!

  But it wasn’t just the camera. There were more people on the Channel Six crew than any of the others she’d encountered so far. Eugene, a cameraman, two guys who looked twenty—tops—and were in charge of holding big white panels that reflected the sunlight into her eyes, an audio tech, and a thin, tightlipped woman whose sole purpose seemed to be looking at her watch and shooting anxious glares at everyone on the crew. Sure, Jess had done a handful of interviews this season, but nothing so major as Odessa freaking Texas. This was the big league.

  The interview, however, was like all the ones she’d done before … for the first thirty seconds—Jess and Chris settled in, the camera framed them up, Eugene went over his notes, and then he turned to them. And that was when the interview diverted into new and dangerous territory.

  “Jessica, I want to come right out and say it. I’ve been contacted by an old friend of yours, a man of high social standing in Midland, Reverend Jimmy Dean.”

  Jess’s heart sank. Perhaps there’d always been a cord of dread within her subconscious mind that knew the two things—football and Jimmy—would collide eventually. It’d been four years since the last time she’d seen Jimmy in person, and she still couldn’t shake herself of him or his crazy.

  This was obviously not going to be an interview like the one for the Mooremont Mundo. She immediately lamented the lack of penis-related questions.

  “Reverend Dean gave me an interesting backstory on you, and I want to give you the opportunity to address some of his claims. It seems only fair.”

  Nothing about Jimmy Dean seemed very fair to Jess, but she let Eugene continue.

  “He says, and I quote, ‘Jessica McCloud is the Antichrist.’ Do you have a response to that?”

  Wow. There was a goddamn sound bite.

  She felt like a hog in headlights. Did she have a response to that? Oh hell yes she did, but not one she wanted on the record.

  She could feel Chris staring at the side of her head. She had to say something. “Um. That’s not true.”

  “Are you saying a reverend lied? Is that what you’re telling the people of west Texas?”

  Heat grew in her chest. “No. Well, yes, but—”

  “Hmm. What exactly is your relationship with Reverend Dean?”

  “I don’t really have one anymore. He showed up the night …”

  STOP.

  Jess snapped her mouth shut. “I, um, don’t know him very well. I went to his church once because he kept bugging me to go.”

  Eugene nodded but looked unconvinced as he glanced down at his notes. “So, just so we’re clear, you claim that you are not the Antichrist?”

  “Uh, yeah. That’s what I said.”

  “Interesting. Okay, so how do you explain your perfect field goal record? You haven’t missed a single one this season, and, as far as my anonymous sources tell me, you’ve never even missed one in practice. What’s the secret here?”

  DON’T BITE. THOU SHALT NOT BITE.

  What am I supposed to say?!

  It didn’t matter though, because before she had a chance to say anything, Chris chimed in. “Reverend Dean has it backwards. Jess isn’t the Antichrist. She’s the Christ. She’s God’s daughter. So maybe you should show a little more respect.”

  Jessica shut her eyes to brace herself against Chris’s obvious misstep. The topic that every interview thus far had tiptoed around was now being shoved to the forefront of conversation.

  Eugene’s eyebrows quivered with restrained excitement. “You’re telling me that you believe Jessica McCloud is the second coming of Jesus?”

  Chris cocked his head to the side and looked at Eugene. “Uh, no. Jesus was a dude. Jess is not a dude. She’s just God’s daughter.”

  Eugene looked to Jessica, who felt lightheaded and slightly detached from reality. She wished she’d left her hair down so she could’ve at least hid her red ears, which felt like they were on fire.

  “Do you agree with what Chris is saying? Are you the daughter of God?”

  Now she was left with the decision of making Chris look like he was crazy or saying something that she hadn’t publicly proclaimed since the debacle in Midland.

  YOU KNOW WHAT? JUST TELL THIS ASSHOLE THE TRUTH.

  Because that went so well when I did it at White Light Church.

  YOU HAVE A BETTER IDEA?

  Yes, actually.

  THEN BE MY GUEST.

  And so she took a deep breath and then opened her mouth to calmly explain that she was not the daughter of God. “Of course I’m n—” Bile leapt up in her chest, and she had to shut her mouth to keep it from coming all the way up. She cleared her throat. “Excuse me.” Eugene stared impatiently, and she wondered if making him wait would actually cause him to stroke out and die. “The claim that I’m the daughter of God is cra—” There was that bile again.

  Shit. Fine. You win.

  She balled her hands into fists in her lap. “Yeah. I’m the daughter of God.”

  The corners of Eugene’s mouth quivered and moisture gathered in his eyes like all his prayers had just been answered.

  “Just so the viewers are clear, you’re not using that phrase in the generic sense of each of us being a child of God, you’re actually claiming that your mother became pregnant with you by Immaculate Conception.”

  Jess clenched her jaw and nodded.

  IF HE’D SEEN THE BACKSEAT ONCE WE GOT THROUGH WITH IT, HE WOULDN’T BE USING THE WORD IMMACULATE.

  I was conceived in a car?!

  Eugene had asked another question, but Jessica had missed it because of God’s unwanted factoid.

  “Huh?”

  “Do you really expect viewers to believe that bit of narcissistic blasphemy?”

  “I’d rather they didn’t, actually.”

  That left Eugene speechless. It was about all the gratification she would get for the rest of the interview, which took a sudden left turn into more personal territory.

  Was it hard being the daughter of a single mother?

  Did she get bullied at school?

  How was her dating life?

  Was she still a virgin?

  What kind of early childhood trauma did she suffer?

  And as God commanded that she answer no comment to each one, she was more than happy to oblige. Why would anyone want to know about all that in her life anyway?

  Finally Eugene turned to the camera and closed with, “Well, there you have it. Christ? Antichrist? That’s up to you to decide, and what a decision to make. It is, perhaps, the ultimate decision that could lead you up to the pearly gates or straight down into the fiery pit. Stay with News Six as we continue to cover this story of the alleged Mooretown Messiah.”

  THAT’S CATCHY.

  Seriously shut up.

  “Okay, great interview,” Eugene said, smiling at Jess. Then he looked at Chris. “I’m really glad we were able to get you in on that.” He turned to face the field. “So now what I need you to do is go kick some field goals so we can get good B-roll of it. Chris, if you could hold for her, that would make a good shot.”

  She could see Chris’s jaw clench quickly. “That’s second-string QB stuff. I don’t hold for the kicker.”

  “Yeah, and I don’t really feel like kicking right now,” Jess said. The thought of giving Eugene a second more of usable footage made her stomach churn. All she wanted to do was smite him, but she was pretty sure Channel Six would find a way to use that agai
nst her.

  But just in case …

  Can I smite him?

  BEST IF YOU DON’T.

  Eugene wasn’t dissuaded. “You have to kick for me. You knew that was part of it when you agreed to this piece. It’s about you kicking. Viewers are going to expect to see it.”

  “You heard her,” Chris said, walking around to stand in front of the reporter, only inches away. Chris dwarfed the stocky man. “Beat it.”

  “Are you trying to intimidate me?” Eugene asked.

  Chris didn’t move. “Why, is it working?”

  Eugene met Chris’s stare for a moment, then chuckled and stepped back. “This ass-backward state. I swear evolution skipped over this place …” Then he nodded to his cameraman and they headed back toward the Channel Six News van with the rest of the crew following behind.

  Coach Rex walked up to Chris and Jess when he saw the news team leave. “That was quick. Didn’t they want to see Jess kick?”

  “Nah,” Chris said, watching them go. “They didn’t earn it. Real jerks.”

  Coach Rex nodded. “Yeah, I got that feel from them. Well, good on you for sending them away.” He patted Chris on the back, and Jess smiled.

  “Might as well run some more drills while we’re out here,” added Coach Rex. And the three of them jogged back out onto the field, though Jess had no intention of kicking and no one asked her to.

  The sun had already set completely by the time Chris’s truck chugged into Jess’s driveway. “Hey, thanks again for running off that Thornton guy.”

  “You’re not mad at me for interfering?”

  “No, I wanted to … Well, I was thinking about the bad things I wished I could do to him, so I’m glad you stepped in.”

  Chris paused, seeming to consider his next words carefully. “You wanted to smite him. Like that bird.”

  It was the first time Chris had ever brought up the grackle incident, and while Jess was surprised that he went there, she was mostly impressed that he did. “Yeah, like the bird. Hey. I’m sorry about that. I know it was a while ago, but—”

  Chris held up a hand to stop her. “Don’t even worry about it. I’m just glad you hit the bird and not me.” He grinned morosely. “Although, I probably deserved it. I was being a little shit.”

  She laughed, surprised. “You didn’t deserve to be smote just because you were being a little shit.”

  Chris laughed, too. “But you agree that I was being a little shit.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  He chewed his top lip and nodded as his grin faded. “You know, it sucks for you. You have the ability to smite, but most bad things in life aren’t that bad, so you just have to keep from smiting all the time. It must be hard knowing you have that ace up your sleeve but you can’t ever use it.

  “I mean, I get so sick of people lying and talking shit about you behind your back—”

  “I didn’t know they were doing that …”

  “—And I know that all you can do is stand there not smiting them, even though it would feel really good, I bet.”

  “Can we go back to the part where people talk shit about me?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I tell them to go fuck themselves whenever I hear it. What I don’t understand, though, is … Well, so you know how people around here feel about football, right?”

  Jess nodded. If he’d asked her three months ago, she would’ve thought she knew, but now, being involved with it as she was, she actually knew. And it was more than a little nuts.

  “It’s practically church to them. Honestly, it probably creates a stronger sense of fellowship than church does.” He paused for dramatic effect before continuing, leaning close like he was about to commit blasphemy. “I once saw a former Aggie football player kiss a former Longhorn softball player on the mouth at one of the Mooremont games when I was a kid. Pretty sure she was a lesbian, too. I’ll never forget it.” He leaned back again. “You don’t find that in church.”

  Jess tried to imagine it, but the sole church experience she had to reference was White Light. “You sure don’t.”

  “And the only, and I mean only thing that people in this town love more than football is Jesus. So what I don’t get is this: Why don’t you stop hiding from who you are, and that’s a beautiful football Jesus.”

  Did Chris just call me beautiful?

  “Jess, you could have this town bowing down to you, listening to your every word, respecting you rather than talking shit behind your back. Why wouldn’t you want that?”

  “Sheesh, Chris. When you put it like that, I sound like a real asshole. But it’s not that simple.”

  “Fine. What am I missing?”

  It took her a few seconds of considering that before she was able to put her finger on it. “That’s just not how it works. Maybe it works that way for guys, but not girls. It’s not the better you are, the more people love you. It’s the better you are, the harder people try to ruin you. Plus, why can’t I just be ordinary? Ordinary people get to have friends. There’s nothing wrong with ordinary. Greg agrees with me.”

  Chris gaped at her until she was finished. “First of all, there’s definitely something wrong with being ordinary if your dad is God. That’s a major duh. Second, you have friends. You have Miranda. You have me. And third, fuck Greg if he doesn’t want you to be who you’re meant to be. You should dump him.”

  “Uh, you don’t get to give me relationship advice. Greg seems to be the only one around here who can see me and not just who my parents are.”

  Chris backed off. “Okay, you don’t have to break up with him if you don’t want. But … just hear me out.” He paused and sighed as he wiped his hand over his face. Was he nervous? The thought of confident Chris being nervous was an unsettling one for sure. “Listen, and this is super selfish of me to even mention, but … I grew up knowing I wanted to play college ball. I’ve sacrificed a lot to be the best I can be. I’ve fallen behind in school, I haven’t dated, I haven’t learned any other useful skills outside of football, and I’ve always been okay with that if it got me a scholarship at somewhere like Tech or A&M or UT.

  “But as long as you’re around, no matter what I do, how well I play, you’ll be the story for Mooremont football. You’ll probably draw recruiters, and maybe they’ll notice me, too, but maybe not. You can’t help but overshadow me, but still I would never in a million years ask you to stop kicking, because both of us know it’s a miracle. And the way I see it, if I can’t get noticed because someone else outshines me, that’s on me. All I ask is that you at least make it worth it. For me, it’s all about football. For you, not even football is really about football. Does that makes sense?”

  The pleading in Chris’s voice made her want to flee the truck and forget she’d ever seen this side of him, because she simply wasn’t sure what to do with it. “Yeah.”

  “I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but I’m going to anyway. Please stop half-assing this. You’re already in deep, so you might as well go for it.”

  It occurred to her that she’d never heard him speak even half as many words before, and now that he had, she was left with a lot to think about. “Okay. I promise.” There was really no other way to go.

  He bit his lip and nodded, staring at his steering wheel. “I’m sorry I unloaded on you.”

  “Hey,” she gently smacked his arm with the back of her hand to get him to look at her. She had seeing him like this, so vulnerable. But she knew there was one thing she could do to help cheer him up. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

  Once the effect worked its way through Chris’s body, he stared at her strangely, and she wondered if she needed to explain. But then he nodded like he understood. “Thanks for that.”

  “Um. You’re welcome?”

  “Jess, I—” He shut his mouth again, and she was left to complete his sentence in her mind with a thousand different possibilities.

  The urge to flee the truck finally won out, and she opened the door and climbed down. Re
aching in to grab her bag from the floorboard, she added, “Thanks for the ride,” and then scurried inside.

  * * *

  As soon as Eugene Thornton’s story concluded on Channel 6 News’ Sunday feature, Football in Focus, Jess reached for her phone and frantically called Miranda.

  “Hello?”

  “Miranda! Did you just watch it?”

  “Yep.”

  “I’m so sorry! I promise all the stuff about me and Chris isn’t true! Eugene Thornton is just a jerk who’s pissed at God for something that happened in Kentucky and Chris had to stand up to him, and I guess it made him angry that I wouldn’t kick field goals for his camera crew.”

  “Whoa, whoa. Slow down.”

  It was hard for Jess to slow down when there was so much damage control that had to be done after the series of false claims and conjecture related to the nature of her relationship with Chris.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just didn’t ever expect him to go there. To say that it’s clear we’re young lovers? That’s so ridiculous!”

  “Jess. Stop. I know nothing’s going on between you and Chris. And even if something was, it’s none of my business.”

  “Uh, no, it’s all of your business. You’ve liked Chris since forever.”

  “So … there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I started to the other day, but you had the audition …”

  Miranda’s tone yanked Jess off her previous trajectory. “Uh-huh?”

  “When I made out with Chris in Coach Rex’s office, it was awesome and fun, but I was actually sort of practicing for someone else.”

  Jess cackled. “Miranda!”

  Miranda giggled.

  “Who is it?”

  “Lewis Walker.”

  The name rang a bell, just like every name in Mooretown did, and she thought she knew who Miranda meant, but she wasn’t one hundred percent.

  Miranda must have guessed as much by Jess’s silence, and she went on to explain. “He plays baseball. And he’s a much better kisser than Chris.”

  “Wait, what?!”

  Miranda cackled with giddy laughter.

  “Miranda! What … when did this happen?” She wasn’t sure what left her more excited, the fact that Miranda finally had a crush on someone who apparently liked her back, the discovery that her best friend wasn’t mad at her for the news story, or the opportunity to catch up and gossip after school with another female. She didn’t realize until Miranda had dived into the juicy details of her and Lewis’s first kiss just how much she’d missed her best friend.