Wearing My Halo Tilted (12 page)

I took a deep breath and decided I was going back to my room. I could call Bryce on the telephone and we could talk about whatever in the world was going on with him. We didn't have to have a face-to-face conversation to get to the root of his problem. He had come to the right one. I was ready to listen, ready to keep him encouraged. I did owe him something. Inspiration was what I was ready to give him, but I could do that with distance. But as I turned to go away, my elbow brushed the door. I couldn't get away fast enough; it opened and Bryce was standing there in the cutest long-sleeve silver blue silk PJs I had ever seen.

He said, “Dang, I was wondering what was taking you so long. Come in.”

But I didn't go in. I just stood firm looking at him. What I saw before me wasn't even something I could stay away from. However, me just looking wasn't adultery. But the more I checked him out the more I saw his deep pain. He didn't have his normal wide grin plastered across his face. He did need my help. Something serious was going on with this guy. This wasn't about me, this wasn't about sex. This was about something heavy going on with him. My friend had lost his sparkle.

“C
ome on in, beautiful,” Bryce said as he took my hand and ushered me into his suite.

Being a huge star did have its advantages, not that I was complaining at all about my room at the Ritz-Carlton. But this particular pad was laid out. It was three times the size of my room and he had converted the space in the corner into a mini-recording studio. I walked over looking as goofy eyed as a child seeing Mickey Mouse in person for the first time.

His warm breath on my neck made me shiver as I heard him say, “You like?”

Deep inside I thought,
Ooh, there is so much I like Bryce Maddox, and that's what scares me. Why in the world am I here?
Coming into his private space was wrong and I couldn't imagine anything going right because I was ready to lose myself to whatever he wanted to do. But then it dawned on me, something was weighing him down. What was the major thing he needed to talk to me about? When I turned to find out, our lips were real close.

Ignoring the attraction filling the air however, I said, “Let's sit.”

I walked over to the conference table and pulled out a chair for me and him. I motioned for him to sit. After he did, I joined him.

“What's going on? It's really late. What's on your mind?” I was getting a little irritated after a few minutes passed and he just stared into space.

It seemed like there was nothing wrong because he wouldn't open up and just talk. I had to ask him millions of questions. He called me up here. He shouldn't make me jump through hoops for his agenda. But this was a good thing because I was feeling too connected to this guy and needed something to put distance between us. Maybe the Lord was at work, because again I was getting a little fed up.

“Maybe you just need to sleep on it and things will seem better for you in the morning. I'm a little tired. I'm sorry I gotta go.”

When I stood up to head toward the door he gently yanked me back toward him. “I'm a failure.”

Those three simple words put together wounded my heart. The way he said it to me made me know he meant them. Placing my hands on both sides of his cheeks, I massaged them a little.

I said, “Are you kidding? You're the most successful man I know.”

Then he turned his head away from me and walked over to the hotel window. I knew this was major. The man was severely depressed. Leaning next to a chair he looked abandoned.

“Seriously, Bryce, this play is successful because every night you pump up every actor. You give the crowd a show. You're a leader and we're all soaring because of that. This play is now selling itself with record numbers in terms of black plays. Your album is also selling like crazy. You're the bomb. Why would you feel otherwise?”

“I can't write a gospel song,” he turned and said to me. “Like, I don't have my skills anymore. The words just won't come out. It's like before I've always been able to hear from God and right now He's telling me nothing. I guess it's because I'm just not living right. Maybe it's because I left my family. I don't know. It's just not working out. I can't write,” he said as his fist pounded on the table.

He went over to the keyboard and slammed his finger and the chord was awful. As if to send a sign to both of us that, yes, he was no longer a musical genius.

“You know we all fall short though. I mean, we all have thoughts and we all want God to suggest, and honestly,” I said, going over to put some ice in two small round glasses, “I'm having more problems.” His face lit up like that was the coolest thing he'd heard in a while. It's funny how people never want to be alone in their misery.

“Okay, my brotha', you're smiling too happily over there,” I said as I opened up the bottled water and poured some in both glasses.

Bryce walked over to me and picked up his. “Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to say I'm happy you're struggling too, but the creative bug seems to have left you as well. So I figured maybe we can help each other get bit again.”

“Have you prayed?” I asked as I put down the glass that he'd just picked up and held both his hands tightly.

I could tell by the blank look in his eyes that he couldn't even recall the last time he asked the Lord to help him with a new song. Then he started to tear up as he realized he'd become that removed from God. To restore healing, I began.

I prayed,
“Father,
Bryce
and I come to you right now. We ask for You to speak to us and give us direction. Your expectations are so high and we certainly don't want to let You down. Lord, help us, help us please.”

After the prayer Bryce hugged me. “Okay, okay,” I said pushing him away because the hug was feeling a little too comfy. “What you're thinking right now, this whole situation with God. This frustration that He's not speaking to you, that He's not directing you. That's it! That's a song! That's something! Come on, come on work with me!” I said as I moved my arm in a circular motion round and round hoping he would get my vibe and work with me.

“Okay, I'm feelin' it. Give me a second.” He walked over to his keyboard and started playing a beautiful chord.

After an hour of messing around with words and notes, he had the first verse of a song called “Please Talk To Me.”

He sang, “Please speak to me, please speak to me. I don't know what to say, sing, or do. Please speak to me.”

“I love the chorus!” I said to him as I ran over and choked him around the neck.

Before I realized what was happening, our eyes were locked on one another's. Though I was sure God wasn't speaking, Bryce's heart was speaking to mine. Mine was answering back. There was something there. Something that was growing more powerful by the second.

“Um, excuse me, I gotta go to the ladies room,” I said.

I took both of his hands from around my waist, smiled larger than I thought my mouth could, backed away, and then bumped into his bed. Course I was embarrassed. After a quick laugh, I turned around to head to the restroom.

Quickly, I splashed water on my face. It was so late there was no makeup anyway that could run, and the warm water made me realize I needed to get out of there. I sat on the toilet for a bit, soaking in the strength to leave. My mission was accomplished; I'd helped my friend. He was on the way to writing a wonderful song for the Lord. Yup, my work was done. I needed to go.

But as I opened up the door, I heard voices.
How long had I been in the bathroom,
I wondered. And who was the female Bryce was talking to?
Well, obviously he was talking to Lacy,
I thought. I couldn't let her see me in his room this late at night. Then of course the green-eyed monster rose up in me, because I wondered what the heck she was doing coming to his room at night. But when the voices escalated I didn't have to eavesdrop. I clearly heard this wasn't a girlfriend pleading for another chance. This was a domestic dispute about two times uglier.

“You told the boys you were gonna call them. Your youngest son cries himself to sleep every night because you never do. If you were a gospel singer doing a play about living God's way, your real life is sure far from it. If the walls could daggone speak, the whole world would see what a hypocrite you are! I hate you!”

Peeking out of the bathroom I looked down toward the keyboard and there was the lady I remembered seeing when the tour first started out, pounding her fist into Bryce's chest. He let her. She was crying.

He asked, “Why'd you come all the way here? How'd you get a key to my room?”

“I'm still your wife you jerk!”

Cracking the door, it made a loud squeaking noise. He looked up and spotted my face. Bryce wore a look on his face that said he was sorry for all this. I waved motioning it was okay, but our subtle gesture wasn't enough to keep his wife from figuring out something wasn't right. She quickly turned around. I jerked back into the bathroom and shut the door, like I didn't want to get caught doing something wrong. Unfortunately, I didn't shut it softly. I kind of slammed it by accident, and I heard footsteps storming over there to me. She quickly opened the door and spotted me.

“Who is this lady, Bryce? It's three o'clock in the morning? You got some trick up in here! You better sweat too heifer,” she said as she looked at the water I had splashed on my face, but was not dry, and misinterpreted it.

However, I didn't correct her. I let her vent. This was a mess. She went on for another minute or two calling me everything but my name.

Then I said, “Listen, you've got it wrong. We were just working on a song. I'm not trying to take your husband.” Even as I said it, it didn't even sound like the truth and I didn't even know if it was the truth. What was I doing? I came out of the bathroom and stood beside Bryce.

“Who is she? Tell me who is she!” she yelled at him.

“Pamela, calm down, baby, calm down,” he said to his wife.

“I'm gonna find out. You don't have to tell me, I will find out who you are.”

“Seriously, we're just friends. I mean, I'm nobody. I'm married too. I hope you guys . . . this is . . . this is nothing. Bryce, I'll talk to you later,” I said, all mumbled up.

I opened up the door and closed it behind me. Staring at the “Penthouse Suite” letters, I wondered what kind of mess I'd just got myself into? I didn't know if I wanted them to work it out or not.

 

 

Lying in the comfortable king-sized bed, it was ironic that I couldn't get comfortable at all. Mid-August was brutal and though the air was on, my body didn't believe that. I kept playing back last night's events. Seeing Bryce's angry wife's face in my mind made me so unsettled.

Looking at my clock, it was five something in the morning. I walked over to the curtain. Pulling back the sheer white fabric, I looked out on the gloomy city lights. Pounded again by the question, where in the world was all this stuff with Bryce going?

Because I wasn't in the cast, I didn't have to do sound checks, rehearsals, vocal practice, or anything like that. All I needed to do was eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner with the crew if I so desired. We had to show up an hour before showtime. Because I got no sleep, showing up before showtime was the only thing I could do and we didn't have to worry about a bus this time. Our theater was right across from the hotel.

“Ah, so there you are.” Bryce came over to me as if nothing had happened the night before.

I just kept stacking up my books and ignored him. Maybe he'd get the picture that now was not the time to discuss anything with me. He had issues much deeper than I wanted to fool with. With a fresh outlook on things, it was now time to cut whatever it was we'd begun.

“C'mon, c'mon don't be like that. I need to talk to you,” he said as he placed his hand on mine.

Quickly, I yanked back saying, “Bryce, what are you doing? There's nothing for us to say. Your wife wants to work it out with you. That's gotta be worth something. I wish my husband cared. I wish he came to my hotel room. Dang it, save what you can.”

“Pamela doesn't hold my heart anymore. She can't inspire me, she can't liven me up. She just drags me down and wants to cause problems. The only thing we did last night after you left was argue more. Honestly, she's not happy with the fact that I don't wanna be with her anymore, but that's just the way it's gotta be. And after she left, a couple of hours later, I think it was actually five something, all I could do was think about you.”

Wow, both of us were up at the same hour. He seemed to be genuine. But was it right for me to be taken in by his advances? Was I really ready to give up my marriage as well?

He touched my back and said, “I went over to my window and thoughts of you dominated my mind. As the sun rose everything started to light up. Then it dawned on me that's exactly how you light up my world; slowly, but wholeheartedly. After thoughts of you made me happy, I went back to the keyboard and finished the song. All because of you, I was able to get over a stumbling block that had been in my way for months. I played it for my boy, Mel, this morning. He thinks it's jammin'. And I want us to celebrate.”

Just then Mel came around the corner and said, “There you are, Bryce! Come on, man, no time for the lovey dovey stuff. I gotta get you backstage in wardrobe.”

“Are we on for a date or not?” Bryce asked as he was being dragged away by Mel.

Against my better judgment and everything I decided to not mess with anymore, I said, “Yes, sure why not?”

Bryce let go of Mel's grasp and jumped up in the air as if he had just won a prize. “Sell your books.” Then he blew me a kiss.

I reached my hand up and gently pretended to catch it. I brought my hand to my lips. Bryce showed all of his pearly whites. We were too silly and it felt good.

When he was completely gone, I sank down in my chair and prayed,
“Lord, maybe it's a good thing that our marriages aren't working out. I'm starting to envision a life with this man. Is this possible?”

Opening my eyes, I was startled to see Lacy angrily gritting her teeth in front of me. “Yeah, you better pray. You need to ask the Lord for forgiveness and help.”

“Lacy are you threatening me?” I stood up and said looking her eye-to-eye without flinching one bit.

“That man is married and so are you. Both of you are confessing to be Christians, but are sinning and stuff.”

“You know nothing about my life and what I do behind closed doors.”

Rolling her eyes and neck, she said, “I know you were in his room late last night before his wife kicked you out.”