“So, I just want to say once again that it really is an honor for me to be standing here before you,” I said after I’d introduced myself and given them a short verbal résumé.
I knew the choir had been prepared for my being here tonight; Brother Steve told me so. But there were only a few smiles on the faces of the thirty-seven people who sat in front of me. Most wore curious expressions, like I was a stranger from another land. But then there were some who, like the folks in the board meeting, sat with their arms folded, and scowls on their faces as if they’d been training with Reverend Davenport. Although I hadn’t quite won over Reverend Davenport, I was sure that I would get the choir on my side. After all, I had charm. And I could sing. Singing always impressed a singer.
“I want you to know that I’m not coming in to make major changes. I was here last Sunday and I heard y’all rock, so I know what you can do.”
When I said that, some of the scowls disappeared. As I said, I had charm.
“I want to shake up the songs, not the singers.”
There were a few more smiles, but still nothing but the deepest of frowns from the blond woman who sat front and center. Her arms were still crossed as if she planned to never let me in.
“But I do plan to bring a taste of Jaylen Richards to our sound. I want us to be different, not another Kirk Franklin–sounding choir.”
Now, everyone nodded in agreement. Everyone except the blond woman.
“I don’t want to keep you later than usual, so let’s get started.” I reached into my bag for the sheet music to the song I’d written. Sitting down at the keyboard, I said, “Tell me what you think of this.”
Then, I hit the first bars and began to sing, “Though I walk through the valley of the shadows, I didn’t know how I would make it out. Had troubles in my life, and it seemed like me no one cared about.”
I’d started this song the night my uncle told me that I had the job. It had taken me days to make it tight; usually, I could write the basic part of a song in a couple of hours. But for this gig, I wanted to come out my first Sunday fresh!
Leaning back, I closed my eyes, and my fingers danced across the keyboard. I sang the way I’d been singing my whole life. I played the keyboard with so much passion. Though I’d had extensive training growing up and at Berkeley, this still came so naturally to me. Music was part of my soul.
I sang, never opening my eyes, just looking at the light behind my lids. There was not a word I sang nor a note I played that wasn’t a part of me. At the end, I waited a couple of seconds before I slowly opened my eyes. The members of the choir were staring at me once again. But this time not like I was a foreigner, but as if I were from another planet totally. Then, they did something I didn’t expect. They clapped.
“We’re gonna sing that?” one of them yelled out.
I grinned and nodded. “Yeah, we’re gonna sing that on Sunday, so we better get started. First,” I said as I glanced around the choir stand, “we’re gonna need a soloist.”
Before I could finish my words, the blond lady raised her hand.
“I’m the soloist,” she said, like she was the one making the decision.
I could feel my eyebrows coming together in a frown, so I smiled to change the expression on my face. “Okay, what’s your name?” I asked, holding out my hand to shake hers.
“Sister Maggie,” she told me.
Behind her, I heard some of the younger ones in the back row giggle.
“Okay, Sister Maggie, come on up here.”
For the first time since she’d walked into the room, she smiled. My eyes glanced through the whole choir stand, and that was when I noticed her–the girl from the parking lot. I hadn’t recognized her before, because today she wore a Spelman hat. But it was her for sure. I knew because I could see her eyes. Just like last week, her eyes smiled at me before her lips did.
I shook my head a little so that I would stop staring at her. “Anyone else?”
“Anyone else what?” Sister Maggie asked.
“Is there anyone else who wants to try out for the solo?”
“Try out?” Sister Maggie looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “I told you,” she added, her voice a bit stronger now, “I’m the soloist.”
I didn’t even try to hide my frown this time. “How do you know? This song might not be right for you.”
“Every song is right for me,” she said, twisting her neck as if she were straight from the hood and thirty years younger. “I’m the soloist, have always been the soloist, and will always be the soloist.” She pressed her lips together as if she was trying to hold back what she really wanted to say.
Now, as I said, charm had always worked for me. But I wasn’t feeling charming right now. What I wanted to do was to tell this old lady to sit down. But, as I also said, my parents had raised me right.
So I took a deep breath, and remembered that I was James and Pamela’s son. “Sister Maggie, I’m really glad to know that you’ve been the soloist; that means that you can really sing.”
She nodded and stuck her chest back out as if she’d shown me something.
“But I’m sure that there are other people in the choir who can really sing too.”
Sister Maggie looked like she wanted to slap me.
I kept right on explaining. “And the thing is, not every solo is perfect for everyone. I want to find the best voice for this song. Does that make sense?”
Now, she looked as if she wanted to slap me twice. But she had enough sense to step back, knowing that if she didn’t, she’d look like a fool.
“Make sense?” I repeated, purposely putting her on the spot.
“I guess,” she growled. But one thing was for sure, Sister Maggie hadn’t lost her confidence, because she added, “Bring ’em on!” as if she was ready to give someone a beat-down. “Try us all out,” she said, waving her hands at her choir partners. I didn’t miss the way she stared down everyone behind her, as if she dared anyone to even think about stepping up.
She may have intimidated them, but not me. I didn’t care what she had to say.
“Okay, who else wants to try out?” I asked.
When no one raised their hand, I let my eyes wander. But people looked down, looked up, looked away; everyone had stopped looking at me. I glanced at the back row, and paused when my eyes once again settled on the girl. Her arms were straight by her side, and though I couldn’t tell for sure, it looked like she was sitting on her hands. Now, she could have been doing that because her hands were cold. But I doubted it, because even though it was March outside, it felt like August inside the sanctuary. So, if she wasn’t cold, there was only one other reason she was sitting on her hands: she was trying to stop herself from volunteering for the solo.
“Why don’t you come up here?” I said, looking straight at her.
Her eyes widened just a little bit, but she didn’t move. Just stared at me as if I couldn’t possibly be talking to her.
“You.” I pointed, just to be clear.
My direct acknowledgment didn’t make a difference. The girl didn’t move until the guy with the spiked hair sitting next to her nudged her a bit.
She shook her head slightly, as if she wanted me to change my mind, but I wasn’t going to. I was just about to walk to the back and pull her up when she finally stood. She moved so slowly, like she was trying to let the whole hour go by so that she wouldn’t have to sing.
For a second, I wondered why she was so hesitant. Could she have a voice like a bear? Well, I was soon going to find out.
When she finally stood in front of me, I handed the sheet music to both Sister Maggie and the girl. “Either of you have any questions?”
They shook their heads.
I asked, “Who wants to go first?”
Sister Maggie pointed at the girl. “Let Simone go.”
Simone. Her name sounded like a song, and right then I knew that I didn’t have to worry about whether she could sing. Before Simone opened her mouth, it
was the instinct inside of me that let me know she could blow. Now, I couldn’t wait.
“Okay, Simone,” I said, taking my place behind the keyboard. I played the first few bars, then looked up at her. She was shaking, as if she was nervous. But then she opened her mouth. And released exquisiteness.
“Now I know that I can make it through by and by. Because all things are possible with God on my side,” she sang.
It took everything I had to keep playing, because all I wanted to do was sit back and listen to babygirl sing.
“You brought me through it all, Lord.” Her voice filled the sanctuary. Her range was wide, and, truthfully, this song didn’t do this young lady any kind of justice. I wanted to stop playing, run home right now, and write something special for Simone.
Finally, she finished. For a moment, everyone stared . . . until they started applauding. And stomping. Like they’d just seen a concert or something. I was supposed to be impartial, but, dang, even I had to stand up and clap.
I wondered if Sister Maggie could get close to that. But it looked like I wasn’t gonna find out. Because while we were cheering for Simone, Sister Maggie rolled her eyes and slinked back to her seat. I guess she wasn’t about to go up against that.
I said, “That was incredible, Simone.” Turning back to the rest of the choir, I said, “But I still want everyone to try out who wants to.”
While everyone else shook their heads, Sister Maggie crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at me and Simone.
“Okay.” I shrugged, and turned back to the young lady who had just mesmerized all of us. “Well, Simone, it looks like you’ll be singing the solo on Sunday.”
“Really?” She looked as thrilled as I felt, and she must’ve been, because before she or I could think about it, she threw her arms around me and hugged me as if I’d just given her a gift.
Simone felt so good that all I could do was hug her back. But, suddenly, her arms fell from my neck, and she took two quick steps back away from me. I frowned, not sure what had happened. Her glance was in my direction, but beyond me. I turned around so that I could see what had taken her attention away. And I looked into the eyes of Reverend Davenport.
His face was tight with the same scowl that he wore the day we met, and I began to wonder if he’d reserved that disdainful smirk just for me. When he shook his head slightly, I frowned.
Quickly, I turned and faced Simone, but she had gone back to her last-row seat in the choir stand. And, once again, she looked like she was sitting on her hands.
I had no idea what that was about; it seemed as if the reverend was upset about something. He should’ve come into the sanctuary a little earlier. Maybe if he’d heard Simone singing, he would have been in a better mood. Well, whatever, I figured. He’d be straight on Sunday, because with the way Simone could sing, she and I were going to turn Greater Faith Baptist Church out!
Chapter 7
This was how fame felt. I was sure about that.
I stood in front of the choir, exactly the way Miss Maggie had been doing for as long as I could remember. And I stayed there as the sanctuary exploded with applause and cheers. It felt like they’d been clapping for five minutes. And all of the applause was for me!
I grinned so hard my cheeks hurt. But my face didn’t ache just from being happy today; I’d been grinning like this for the last week. My smiley face had started when Minister Jaylen picked me to be the soloist. At that moment, I felt as if I were living inside someone else’s dream, though at first, it wasn’t all good.
I’d had no plans to stand up and fight Miss Maggie for the solo. I was just like everybody else; I was just going to let her have it. As Miss Maggie said, it’d always been that way. But Minister Jaylen forced me to get up. And once he put that music into my hands, I wasn’t going to half step; I was gonna bring it for real. When the choir cheered and Miss Maggie sat down, I knew I’d done good. I was so happy that I hugged Minister Jaylen, shocking him–and myself–in the process.
That was when my dad walked into the sanctuary. Boy, if looks could kill, Minister Jaylen and I would both be laid up in some cemetery right about now. I wasn’t sure what my father was upset about. It could have been because I was all up on the new minister, or that I had been given the solo. I never found out what the deal was, because all my father did was turn and walk right out of the sanctuary without saying a word. Even later that night, when he called to make sure that I’d arrived at my dorm safely, he didn’t mention anything about what had gone down at church. I guessed he didn’t want to talk about it . . . and that worked for me, because it wasn’t like I wanted to explain a thing to him.
But aside from worrying about my father, the last week had been wonderful. Jaylen may have been young (I found out that he was just a year older than me), but he worked us way more than Brother Steve ever did. And he made me work the hardest, though I didn’t complain. There were nights after rehersal when Jaylen and I practiced alone in the choir room, working through every detail of the song. What was best was that Minister Jaylen even allowed me to change the words of one verse. He told me he respected my opinion. He treated me like a real singer, the same way everybody in the church was treating me right now.
I glanced into the sanctuary, and Chyanne and Devin were on their feet like everyone else, cheering me on. Right in front of them, in the first pew, was my mother, standing too, clapping and smiling. It was my mom who made me think about my dad. I glanced to my right and saw him. He was the only person in the whole church who was still sitting, there in his great big ol’ chair in the middle of the pulpit. When he saw me looking at him, he pushed himself up as if he didn’t want to, but had to. But that was all he did, just stand. It was as if he couldn’t find a way to bring his hands together. It was as if standing was the best he could do.
I felt a little pain in my heart, but I wasn’t about to let my dad take away all my joy of these minutes.
Finally, I turned to the man who made this all possible, and he was cheering the loudest. It was Minister Jaylen’s smile that made mine wider.
Yup, this had to be what fame felt like.
Finally, grudgingly, I moved my feet and went back to the last row. When I got to my seat, Minister Jaylen motioned for the whole choir to sit down. I did, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to stand up and sing again so that I could feel that good feeling over and over and over.
But then my father slowly walked to the podium. He waited for a moment, for the people in the sanctuary to settle down. Then, he said, “Saints, turn in your Bibles to . . .”
I was so shocked that I didn’t even hear what scripture my father wanted us to study. That was all he was going to say? I wanted to yell out for him to stop and acknowledge me and the choir the way he always did when Miss Maggie sang her solos. But even though I tried to stare him down, my father was already in preachin’ mode, as if my song never happened.
The pain in my heart that I felt a moment ago was so much stronger now. Maybe it was just that my dad couldn’t accept me as a singer because he couldn’t see me as one. Maybe all he saw when he looked at me was a fat girl who would be better off being an accountant.
Why did I keep doing this to myself? When was I going to realize that I needed to stop all this dreaming and just do what was best?
I peeked over at Carlton to see what scriptures my father wanted us to read. And as I turned the pages of my Bible, I made a promise that I was never going to do this again. I was going to stop with the big dreams and just focus on reality. I needed to get excited about being a paper-pushin’ accountant. I could be good at that; plus, top accountants made lots of money. I just needed to keep it real and keep it moving.
But what was I supposed to do with all of these feelings inside of me? I lifted my eyes from the Bible and peeked over at Minister Jaylen. This was all his fault. Because after working with Minister Jaylen, I had really started to believe.
Chapter 8
I didn’t want to brag, but it was hard not to a
s I sat in the middle of Chili’s. The Hawks were playing on every big screen in the place, and, though my boys were the Lakers, I still liked a good game of b-ball.
“So, what did you guys think?” I asked once the waitress dropped the hamburger platters in front of me, Quintin, and Miles.
“That’s what’s up,” Miles said. He took a sip of his Budweiser, even though we hadn’t been out of church for more than an hour.
I’d dragged Quintin and Miles out of bed early this morning and made them go to Greater Faith with me. Actually, it wasn’t all that bad. This was my first Sunday, and even though Quintin, especially, tried to give me a hard time about having to get up so early after a long Saturday night, I knew my brothers were going to be there for me.
Miles had given me his opinion, and now I wanted to know what Quintin thought; so I asked him directly.
He took a sip of his beer as if he needed time to think. Then, he said, “Can’t front. Y’all rocked it.” He was still talking with his newfound Southern accent. But then, as quickly as he gave that compliment, he took it away. “I still think working at that church is bogus. You haven’t done a thing to build our label.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked with a frown. “I told you, since I’ve been at the church, I can’t stop writing. Man, I’ve got an arsenal of songs ready for Tru Harmony.”
I’d told Quintin and Miles earlier this week that the church had inspired me, though that wasn’t the total truth. It wasn’t the church alone; Simone was the one. Her voice got me going. Made me want to write song after song after song.
“Okay, so you’ve been writing,” Quintin said. “But who are you writing for? Are we even close to discovering the next hottest thang?” he asked with a twang. “What about that? You can’t have a label without talent.”
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