“Where are you?” Dillon accused in a harsh sounding tone. “I called your hotel room, your parents gave me the number and, um, it went to voicemail. I just heard a man’s voice in the background. Clearly you’re not headed to bed.”
Well, I actually missed my husband’s voice, and I was so happy he was a little agitated that I wasn’t securely locked in my hotel room. In Dillon’s own unique way, he was trying to say I miss you.
Carefully trying not to tick him off more or say the wrong thing, I replied by saying, “I’m just getting a bite to eat, that’s all. Why’d you call?”
I didn’t know how long Bryce was going to be out of my presence so I wanted to keep the call short so I’d be off the phone when he came back to the limo.
“Your mom called and I talked to the girls tonight.”
I didn’t respond, I just held up the phone waiting for him to continue. “And,” I thought.
“The girls are well,” he continued. “It’s not like you called to check on everybody.”
That comment was a little insensitive and I felt my veins bulging out as my heart rate increased. My whole body got a little testy. He didn’t want me to cut the fool with him. I was already out on my own. He didn’t know he didn’t need to push me too far.
“I already checked in with my mom, Bryce.”
“BRYCE!” he yelled, realizing I had called him the wrong name. “I mean, what’s going on, who are you there eating dinner with? I’m calling you to congratulate you on winning an award and you’re calling me some other Negro’s name. What’s up with that?”
How in the world was I going to get myself out of this one? I knew my husband didn’t come from the smartest family in the world, but he was no dummy. Surely he could put two and two together. Waiting for the bomb to drop, I sighed.
“That singer guy, are you out with him? Y’all not staying in the same hotel room or something like that are you? How did he get down there, I thought he was in the play with you? He’s not supposed to be at your book conference thing.”
Twenty thousand questions came at once. And if that wasn’t enough tension the real Bryce walked back to the door.
“Look you don’t need to grill me,” I said. “I’m just having dinner with him. He came down here on his own.”
Knowing inwardly that I didn’t have any ties to Bryce, I didn’t need to be all secretive or anything. Whatever he heard he’d just have to hear. I had no double life. I was a married woman talking to my husband. Surely Bryce would not have issues with that.
To get myself back on track and convince myself that this was no big deal, I simply said to my husband what I needed to say. “Bryce and I are friends. End of story. Thank you so very much for calling me about my award. I appreciate it. I will talk to you later. Good-bye!”
“Dang, girl!” he said as he sat down beside me. “You let your man have it didn’t you? You not gone be in the doghouse mentioning me.”
I’d already been in the doghouse. I didn’t even know why I tried anymore. Sucking my bottom lip in, I fought back the emotion that was welling up inside of me. No, it didn’t make me happy that I had to cut off my conversation with my husband. But before he could call me back and let me have it, I did turn off my cell phone. No need getting embarrassed twice in one night.
“I understand though,” Bryce said as he gently stroked my hand to calm me. “I got problems in my marriage too. I’m sure you’ve read about it all over, heard it, and seen it. I should be served with divorce papers any day now. It’s tough staying committed to one person your whole life. You can’t let that person get you down so much that you don’t even want to strive for your own dreams and goals. If they’re constantly tearing you down, making you feel inferior, making you just . . . hate ’em. You gotta cut ’em loose.”
I looked directly in his eyes, wiped the water from mine, and said, “Honestly, I hear you. I’d never thought I’d be in a failing marriage. We got two young babies; it’s just not fun anymore. And I know it’s not only one-sided, Bryce, I know he hates me just as much. He’s jealous and he’s probably turning red right now because he can’t get me on my cell phone.”
“Do you still love him?” Bryce asked out of the blue.
“I’ve got so many issues with myself, I don’t even know if I have any love to give anybody.”
“We gotta do something about that. What’s your day like tomorrow?”
As we traveled to the sushi spot, I bored him with details about my book signing at the Christian African-American Booksellers booth, the interviews with magazines and Christian broadcasting stations.
As we got seated, he asked, “Okay, so when will the busy lady be free?”
“After four. Sorry to go on and on, it’s just that no one has ever sent me anywhere. This is huge.”
The waitress came and brought a menu of seafood choices, from octopus to cooked sea eel. I was excited because my husband never wanted to share one of my favorite foods, but Bryce seemed to love it more than me.
We enjoyed the rest of our evening, not talking about either one of our marriages. We laughed, giggled, and enjoyed our bliss. My depressed feeling phased away and Bryce had me glowing all over. By the time Mr. Maddox was done with me, I was beginning to look forward to four o’clock the next day.
Bryce’s male companionship was uplifting. Later, however, when I got back to my hotel room, I noticed that I had eight messages. I reluctantly played them back and heard my husband’s angry voice screaming into the receiver. I had to call Dillon.
“What’s going on with you, Shari, out with other men and stuff? You hung up on me, turning off your phone so I couldn’t get you back. I mean what are you doing? Are you throwing the towel in on our marriage? Is it over? If so, you need to tell me so I can move on too.”
“I can sense you’re angry.”
“Oh, you don’t think I have reason to be?”
Now I knew why I hadn’t talked to my husband in a while. Sure, maybe he had cause to be mad at me. And as he kept lashing out at me, telling me what a horrible wife, mother, and person I was, it wasn’t racking him any brownie points with me.
I didn’t wanna compare him to Bryce, because I barely knew that guy, but it sure was refreshing to just go out and enjoy someone who was in tune with my feelings. I didn’t have to spend the whole evening eating and talking about nothing or hating that I was there in the first place. Byrce even dressed up. My husband hated to put on cosmopolitan clothes. If it wasn’t an athletic look or feel, it had no appeal to him.
“I don’t know what to say. You’re accusing me of doing way more than what was going on. I’m sorry I called you his name. That was unintentional. I was out with a colleague who happened to be at the International Christian Retail Show. Don’t trip, I’ve gone out on business meetings before. It was no biggie. We were simply talking about ways in which we could partner. All I was doing with him was trying to figure out how to improve the showing at the play.”
Now I was starting to lie to Dillon. We really did have troubles when I could so cavalierly make up something. He wasn’t a saint either though. He’d called my bluff and what he got he got.
“You need to get off my back a little, ease up. Don’t be so harsh.”
He fussed more and I just held the phone away. The air cared to listen more than me. I truly was starting to hate him, as we came to no meeting of the minds. And he ended up hanging up on me, so the feeling was probably mutual. I was too exhausted to even pray for our marriage.
I took a long shower and enjoyed reminiscing about my evening out. I had good company and I had gotten an award. Things were looking up and I was looking forward to more good than bad. I finally felt like I deserved the best and, come what may, the best was coming to me.
“I’m really pleased with how well your book is doing. You’re such a wonderful role model for our young people. You’re doing this publishing company proud,” Mr. Gayley, the vice president and publisher of my book company, said to me du
ring a private meeting before I was to go sign at the Christian African-American Booksellers Association, CAABA, booth.
I loved getting my time with him. He was such a nice, humble man. I remember when I first sought out a publisher. Not only did my favorite agent in the world turn me down, before I landed with Tina, but I also personally talked to several different publishers. It was no problem getting the meetings. I guess since they didn’t have a slew of African-American women on their author roster, they couldn’t be rude to me. They just found a way to say, No, we’re not interested at this time. The rejections came in the forms of letters, e-mails, and verbal communication; any way they could say no, they found a way to do it.
Even though Mr. Gayley said no at first, I could really sense he was trying to help make me better. And of the things that he told me to sharpen, like getting a more realistic view of my characters and having a few other plots than the main one I was trying to portray, above all I had to make sure that God was the central character. Once I implemented his suggestions, Tina had no problem getting him to sign off on giving me a two-book deal. He was kinda growing me up in the publishing world, telling me a lot of stuff that I needed to know. He was such a godly man, and with most white folks not even speaking or smiling in my direction, I couldn’t say the same for most so called Christians.
Because it was a Christian company, I was limited in the drama I could put in my titles. Everyone sinned and fell short of the glory of God. Why couldn’t characters? But in order to stay in their game I had to conform and play by their rules. No profanity, no sex scenes, and no gay stuff.
“Thanks for all your compliments and getting my book in the right hands so that the powers that be could read it and give me a chance to win an award. I’m just so thankful,” I said, clasping my heart so he could see the sincerity. “And I should apologize to you guys for not getting my second book done yet. Believe me, my agent is on me so you’ll have it soon.”
“Well, I did wanna impose upon you our deadlines, and we are working with your agent to secure all of that. But we just wanted to let you know how proud we were of you. We’ve had to let a couple of authors go this year. One was a pastor who was stealing money from the church, they let him go as pastor and we looked into it and the evidence was right. We had to release him from his contract as well. Our motto is, ‘A message you can stand by,’ and no one can stand by an author who publicly is out living their own way, yet telling a message to others on how they should walk the straight and narrow. We want our authors doing and writing the same thing. We are glad you are upholding His standards. I know you gotta get down there to the signing so I’ll let you go,” he said as he looked at his watch.
We shook hands. I told him he would have the next manuscript soon. Thankfully, he told me an extension was acceptable. Then I was off to the ICRS floor.
Another day at the conference was even more special. Strolling alone to the African-American booth, I was able to appreciate the small things. The beautiful royal purple carpet, ushering me down each of the aisles, reminded me of what heaven would be like. Hearing my people sing praises to the King convinced me. I wanted to be fully used for him.
I had a line waiting on me. Tina was standing there along with the author relations person from the publishing company, ready to show me where to stand and start my line moving.
Tina whispered in my ear, “Look at all these people ready to get your autograph. A much longer line than yesterday. Next year, you’ll be over there in a private booth. You’re doing great, Shari.”
Grinning at her, I inwardly was okay that that wasn’t my lot this time. I was thankful the Lord had given me a larger crowd than the day before. I didn’t need to ask for me. I needed to be excited about what He’d given me.
With a gracious attitude, I had a ball. I met all kinds of people. Some that had read the book and some that had not. People that were hurting and people that were healed through the message in my book. Positive words of encouragement were coming from every person I met.
I had already done interviews the majority of the morning. Then had my meeting with Mr. Gayley, followed by my signing. It was now four o’clock and I didn’t have a clue where Bryce and I were going to meet. I didn’t have to figure it out either, because again he was the last person standing in my line.
Tina gave me a fierce look as if to ask what’s up with this. I tried to hide my excitement but I couldn’t hold back the corners of my mouth from turning upward in a really big fashion. Boy did he look good in his black jacket, white shirt that was unbuttoned, brown slacks, and some cool Stacy Adams shiny, black shoes. Bryce didn’t have a stomach overlaying the belt area like my husband did. His clothes fit and they fit nice.
News flash to me . . . Shari McCray was extremely attracted to Bryce Maddox.
“So did you want a book or . . .” Tina stepped up two notches and looked at both our faces.
Quickly, I stepped in to answer for him. “Or what, what else would he be over here for?”
Ironically, her protectiveness was funny. Though she and my husband had had it out a couple of times, she was an advocate of the holy union of marriage. She was not going to stand by and watch me do something that she felt was morally wrong.
“I heard you’re out of books, but I’ve been standing in this line, so just sign my bookmark like you did for the last few people,” he playfully teased.
“Yeah, she ran out of books a little while ago, but you still stayed in line?” Tina questioned, looking up out of the glasses she wore just for fashion. “Why is that Mr. Maddox? It’s my understanding that you two talked last night, what else is there to say?”
Sounding real professional he flipped the script on her. “I brainstormed over some ideas in which I could improve her book sales for the play and I kinda wanna discuss some of that today. That’s okay, right?”
Tina’s whole perspective changed. “Oh, if you guys wanna talk about business, her business, that’s fine by me. Go on, get moving. Call me and let me know you guys made it back to Texas.” Tina hugged me and said, “My plane leaves soon. Keep the conversation to business.”
“Of course,” I told her as I pulled away.
Before Bryce and I left the convention floor, we walked down the aisles we didn’t check out the day before. Looking at some of the displays, we both were in awe of all the uplifting material that was out there for sale.
Then we came to the music side. He pointed to the new competition of up and coming hot-male artists that were flying up the gospel charts.
“I don’t know if I like this,” he said, being totally vulnerable with me.
“Other people taking your spotlight?” I said, keeping the conversation real.
“Oh, see you got jokes.”
“What is it that you don’t like, except the point that you want no one to outshine you?” I placed my hand on his bulging shoulder. “From what I see you have nothing to worry about.”
“Well, that’s mighty kind, my lady, but I’m not sure I like this straight, rigid, Christian way of having to do everything. That’s why I liked your book. It was Christian, but it was sort of—”
“What, almost secular,” I cut in.
“Yeah.”
“And I really struggled with that. It was even toned way down from the first version. It didn’t get picked up for a long time because of that. You really can’t walk the thin line; you have to come to one side or the other. Either your halo is on or it’s off.”
He shook his head, “I disagree. I think you might not wear it straight, but at least keep it on and God is cool.”
I shook my head unsure whether or not I agreed with him. Then I stopped walking. He kept going and once he realized I wasn’t beside him, he turned and came back over to me.
“What?”
“Well, I mean it’s just Bryce Maddox has been this big gospel star for what, ten, fifteen years now? You can’t just not sing gospel, I mean, what are you talking about? No one would let you tran
sition.”
“I strongly believe I’ll have my fans cross over with me. But there’s other stuff I wanna say, other stuff about relationships that’s dying to come out. My marriage is over, I’m a hurting black man, I got some things I wanna say and songs that I need to write. And every time I go to write a song to God and thank Him, I just can’t.”
“Are you mad at the Lord?” I questioned, already knowing that if the answer was yes, I could understand that.
“No one ever asks me these tough questions like you do. I don’t know, Shari, maybe I am.”
Bryce walked out of the facility and for the whole two-mile walk, neither of us said a word. His hotel was a couple of blocks down from the convention center and right out front we caught a cab.
“Where are we going?”
“Let’s go to Disney”
“I have on a business suit and so do you.”
“We can stop off at the mall and get something new. Then go to Mickeyland. You need to unwind. Actually, we both do.”
“Bryce, I just don’t have it like that, where I can go to the mall and buy a new outfit just because. I’m on a budget here. Plus, you bought me stuff yesterday. No more.”
“I’m the one that’s kidnapping you and taking you to Disney, right?” he asked as I nodded. “Then let me do what I want.”
The two of us argued back and forth because I truly didn’t want him to do that. He ended up swinging the car back around and letting me go upstairs to change my clothes. Fifteen minutes later, he’d come back to pick me up after he had done the same. It was a pain, but I didn’t want him feeling like I owed him something by him buying me the world.
Once we both got on the first roller-coaster ride, it was like all of our troubles, disappointments, and fears were a distant memory. We just laughed, screamed, and enjoyed the rides. It had been such a long time since I had basked in the goodness of what an ordinary day could be. The only major conversation we had was when we were getting an Italian sausage from one of the vendors.
Wearing My Halo Tilted Page 8
