Sweet Submission: Jenny and Max Complete Series Plus Bonus Short Story (8 page)

Strengthened Through Him

The flat screen TV flickered to life. It showed a young blonde woman applying makeup to Max’s face. I could see Max clenching his eyes, obviously uncomfortable. When she was done, Max’s skin was smooth, and his scars had disappeared. The makeup artist moved on to Adam Williams, the host. He was much more at home under the makeup brushes, glaring lights, and the audience of about fifty that mumbled with anticipation. Max shifted in his chair, clearly out of his element. With his new status of celebrity MMA fighter, Max knew it was part of his job to go on shows like this to promote his upcoming fight. It was in his contract after all. He tolerated it well, and usually came off as gentle and charming, if not a little guarded. His agent had instructed him to be more open, and Max had promised to try tonight.

“Beer, wine, champagne?” a young, brunette page asked me.

“Sparkling water?” I said, hopefully.

“We have that,” she said, nodding, then scurried away.

I clutched the cross pendant that hung around my neck and said a little prayer for Max.

“In five,” the director said through the TV, then started the countdown.

Max straightened up and smiled when the cameras started rolling.

“We’re back with Max McCall,” Adam Williams said. “So, Max we’ve talked a lot about your fighting career, but that’s not all you’re about, right? You’re a family man.”

“That’s right,” Max said, then cleared his throat. “I have a beautiful wife, Jenny, and an amazing stepdaughter, Lily.”

“It sounds like you and your wife have a great relationship,” Adam said. “What advice would you give the men out there, how can they keep their ladies happy?”

Max drummed his fingers against the arms of the chair. He was starting to sweat through his makeup. “Just, um-“ he started.

“Come on, baby,” I whispered.

Max took a deep breath, regaining his composure. “What works for me is to remember that my wife is my spiritual partner. God is central to our marriage, and keeps our relationship strong.”

“Yes,” I said, victoriously, thinking that was a brilliant answer.

Adam seemed surprised. “God, huh? You’re a religious man?”

Max nodded. He looked uncomfortable again from talking about matters as personal as faith on national television. “Yes, I’d say I am.”

My breath caught in my chest. After we’d relocated to California, we’d encountered many secularists, especially in the entertainment industry. It wasn’t like back home where we could talk about our beliefs openly. Though people were nice here, as soon as we mentioned something about God, they seemed to silently judge us.

“Jesus was a pacifist, am I right?” Adam asked.

“In a way,” Max said.

Adam cracked his knuckles, preparing to take Max to task. “So, all the beating people up, is that kosher in your religion?”

This got a tremendous response from the crowd. They cheered their host. Adam smiled with a ‘gotcha’ look in his eye. Max waited for the cheering to die down before he responded.

“MMA fighting is about so much more than beating each other up,” Max said. “It’s a sport of skill and strategy. It draws on traditions that are centuries old. Look, it might look bad to you. You may wonder, how can they take punches like that? But MMA fighters aren’t like average people. They’re tough, tougher than nails. They can take it, trust me.”

Silence fell over the studio, and a second later, the crowd erupted in cheers. Max smiled humbly at the adoration. Adam raised his hand, trying to control the crowd.

“Gotcha,” I said under my breath.

When the interview ended, I waited eagerly for Max to make his way backstage. When I saw him, I jumped into his arms and kissed his lips.

“Max, you were great out there,” I said. “You’re starting to get good at this.”

“I don’t know about that,” Max said. He rubbed his lips, and a thick layer of beige makeup smeared across his fingers. “I’m ready to get this stuff off.”

The makeup artist came in and starting removing Max’s makeup with cotton pads. I waited on the couch, looking forward to going home and eating the ice cream we had in the freezer. Publicity days were long, relentless, and often left me feeling exhausted. If it was this bad for me, then I wondered how it was for Max.

Mark, Max’s agent, entered the room with a cellphone pressed against his ear.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Mark said. “I’m here with him now.” Mark put the phone in his pocket, and looked to Max with a befuddled expression. “What was that?” he asked.

“I thought it went pretty well,” Max said.

“Me too,” I said.

“Pretty well?” Mark said. “What was all that God stuff? Social media is going to go crazy.”

Max shrugged. “Why is talking about God suddenly so controversial?”

“Because you have to keep business and religion separate,” Mark said. “We’re here to sell, not divide.”

I was starting to get annoyed. Mark had wanted Max to be more open, and that was just what Max had done. “I’m sure there are plenty of people of faith watching at home. They probably liked what Max said.”

Mark’s phone dinged in his pocket. He picked it up and stared at the screen while talking to me. “You mean middle of nowhere Americans who don’t buy tickets or merchandise? Not exactly our demographic.”

I clenched my hands into fists, seething. Max gave me a look, telling me to drop it.

“We need to put out this fire before it gets out of control,” Mark said. “I want you to write a nice little post explaining that when you said ‘God’ you meant a universal god. That you weren’t citing any one religion in particular.”

“Forgive me for saying this, but that’s complete bullshit,” Max said.

Mark’s phone rang. He answered it, then placed his hand over the receiver. “Write the post,” he whispered harshly, then left the room.

Max and I rode home in the white, stretch limo sent by his agency. We didn’t speak much, both staring out of our windows. I watched the massive buildings pass by as we navigated the congested highway. This wasn’t at all like back home, where there were more trees than houses. There were only a handful of churches in this city. Max and I had found one thirty minutes away, but even that didn’t suit us. The pastor’s teachings strayed from the Bible both of us held to, and seemed tolerant of things that went against God’s word.

Max reached across the seat and took my hand. Even with these limitations, I never lost sight of God’s influence on my life. This was thanks mostly in part to Max. He was a strong and noble head of household, and I would follow his lead anywhere.

The limo winded up the hills before stopping in front of the Mediterranean style mansion that was way too big for our small family. The agency had rented it for us, even though we’d requested more modest accommodations. The floor to ceiling windows at the back of the house looked onto the terrace, and the pool below. Neon lights of changing colors flashed under the water. They came on every night, making it look like a spaceship was landing outside. Inside, the kitchen countertops were thick slabs of marble, which looked beautiful, but were easy to knick with a wayward knife or heavy cooking pan. The house was filled with unpractical touches like this. To me, they were nothing more than garish displays of wealth. Instead of paying for this lavish house, the agency could have donated to charity and helped those in need.

Max and I settled onto the white leather couch that was more stylish than comfortable, the pint of ice cream between us.

“I didn’t like the way the host dug into you like that,” I said, licking my spoon. “What’s wrong with believing in something?”

“It’s the culture out here,” Max said, shrugging it off. “They’d rather worship money and success than the God who created them.”

I ate another spoonful of ice cream, contemplating while the chocolate sweetness melted on my tongue. “And Mark, he acted like you’d committed some kind of crime. All you did was share your beliefs.”

Max grabbed my wrist, steadying my hand which I just then realized was shaking. “Calm down. Don’t get yourself so worked up.”

“It just makes me so mad,” I huffed.

“It’s not worth the energy,” Max said, calmly.

I pointed my spoon at him. “You should write that post. Say that you believe in the truth, the truth of God’s word, and that’s why you’re so blessed. I’ll help you draft it up.” I started to stand and looked for paper and a pen, when Max grabbed my arm.

“What did I say?” Max said in a stern voice.

I relaxed back on the couch. “You said not to get worked up,” I said, timidly.

“And I expect you to listen the first time I tell you something,” Max snarled.

He yanked my arm, pulling me over his lap. In an instant, he had my skirt up and my panties down. He laid his hand flat across my bare bottom.

“Good sense makes one slow to anger, and it is in His glory to overlook an offense,” Max said. He raised his hand and swatted me hard against the left cheek. “Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.” He spanked the other cheek.

Max continued rattling off Bible verses, followed by heavy spanking. As my bottom grew sore and red, the sacred truth comforted me. I shouldn’t hold malice against nonbelievers or anyone else who offended me. God was clear on this point. I should instead, forget anger and pray for those that offended me.

Max ended with a particularly sharp smack that landed just below my bottom on my upper thighs. When he helped me sit up, my anger was gone. I breathed easier and my muscles relaxed.

“That’s better,” I said, stroking his face.

“Don’t let them get to you,” Max said, giving me a gentle kiss on the cheeks. “You know the truth, you live the truth. Be happy with that.”

I rested my head against his chest. A thought occurred to me, and I let out a soft laugh. “Could you imagine if people found out that you spanked me? The media would go crazy. Feminists groups would be up in arms.” I looked up to Max, smiling, but he had a serious look on his face.

“It’s a shame that we have to hide who we are,” Max said. “Think of all the others out there like us.”

“They wouldn’t understand,” I said, solemnly. “You know Mark isn’t going to rest until you right that post.”

Max stroked my hair away from my face. “I know.”

“What are you going to write?”

Max exhaled, deeply. “I don’t know.”

“Think about it tomorrow,” I said. “I’ll help you. Now, come on. Let’s go to bed.”

*

Max was in the office looking at the computer. He was hunched over towards the screen. I brought him coffee, and wrapped arms around his shoulder.

“Don’t look at that stuff,” I said.

“I can’t help it,” Max said. “This person called me a hypocrite. And this one says I’m a misogynist. Where did they get that from?”

I closed the laptop. “These people don’t have the privilege of knowing you. Besides, anyone can write anything on the internet these days.”

“Speaking of writing on the internet,” Max said. “I’ve been thinking about this post. I don’t think I can give Mark what he wants. I can’t disavow my faith.”

“Then don’t,” I said. I pulled up a chair and sat next to him at the desk. “Let’s see what we can come up with.”

We worked for the next few hours writing draft after draft. We wanted to make absolutely sure we got Max’s point across, and that his words couldn’t be misconstrued. The finished product turned out way longer than we’d anticipated, but I think the following lines sum it up nicely.

There are plenty of people out there that agree with me, and there are plenty that don’t. That’s perfectly fine. Each of us seek God in our own way, and those journeys differ immensely. While I am tolerate of others’ beliefs, Hollywood, and the show business industry in general, has been anything but. Anytime my wife or I utter a silent prayer, or thank God for something, we are looked at as if we are lepers. Why can’t they make room for our beliefs? Is it because they know, deep inside, that there is truth there, and they’re too scared to look?

Max and I looked at each other, satisfied, then clicked publish.’ It uploaded immediately to the social media site.

“Glad that’s done,” Max said, closing the computer. “I’m not training today. What should we do?”

Max was incredibly busy, so it was rare when we had a day to ourselves. Lily was out with her friends, and I didn’t have anything on my to-do list.

“I want to do something,” I said. “Maybe get out of the city so I can breathe.”

“That sounds good to me,” Max said. “I know just the thing.”

We drove to the coast and walked down to the dock, looking for a boat we could rent. The water was calm when we sailed the small boat out. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the sun shined down sunny and bright. A light breeze kept us from getting too warm.

“This is the rainy season,” the owner of the boat had informed us. “This beautiful weather is unseasonable.”

Max set the anchor far from the coast. In the foggy distance, we could see the buildings of the city stretching up towards the sky. I gazed out onto the endless ocean. The monuments built by man had nothing on the beauty of God’s creation. Max and I ate the lunch we’d prepared, and enjoyed the calming silence. The nearest boat, the nearest person, even, was miles away.