Wearing My Halo Tilted (3 page)

My first novel,
Luv Right or Git Left,
hit the
Essence
bestseller's list. Word of mouth was making it fly off store shelves. Even though I was with a small Christian publisher, my distribution placed the book in mainstream bookstores like Barnes & Noble and Borders, mass-market stores like Target or Wal-Mart, and most Christian bookstores like LifeWay or Family. Released last year, it had sold almost fifty thousand copies. For a new author that was very good. So my publisher was eagerly awaiting the release of the next one.

“Don't answer the phone,” I said out loud to myself, although I knew I had to.

My book was a month late and I was nowhere near finishing the first draft. It wasn't like I'd been on extensive tours or anything, but I did have a new boss. Starr was a year old now and I knew when I signed the deal that I'd be having a baby. I felt more depressed than I thought. Whoever said that creative writing was a way to cope with life was lying.

Truth be told, a part of my depression was because I had wanted a boy both pregnancies. I never considered myself one of those ladies who were into girly stuff. After all, I married an NFL player. I liked sports and I think deep down I was closer to my dad than I was with my mom. I just didn't think female bonding was possible and I guess in some ways I shied away from totally giving my all to my girls.

But as so many people have told me, every time I looked into the eyes of my precious daughters, I realized God knew what He was doing. I was handling the barrettes, bows, dolls, hula hoops, ballet, and tap. I knew even my husband had wanted Stori and Starr to be Dustin and Dawson.

“Shari, are you there?” she said when I pressed the speaker button.

“Hey, Tina.”

“Dear, it rang eight times. I can never get a hold of you when I want to. I called yesterday and you hadn't responded. We can't operate like this, honey. You need to respond more promptly and be more accessible.”

“I didn't get your messages, sorry.”

She spouted off sassily, “Well, you need to check them. Do something.”

“I've been really, really working on the book,” I said, looking up in the air as I knew to myself that that wasn't the truth. “Okay, I've been really trying to work on the book, but nothing is flowing. I have true writers block.”

“Well, you need to get to working. But, honey, that's not why I'm calling.”

All of a sudden I sat up in the chair, took the phone off the hook, and listened intensively. “What's going on? You're not calling about the new book?”

“No, baby,” she said.

I could imagine her making things happen very comfortably from her big New York office. She was probably sitting back with her feet up on her desk, laid back in her, even bigger than mine, chair. I really admired Tina for all she had accomplished. I just wished she wasn't so hard on me. A lot of people said that was for my best interest.

Even Mrs. Kindle felt that though Tina got results, her harsh tactics could be toned down. Yes, she was the agent, but she wasn't my mom. Every time we talked she was ordering me around. I was intimidated. However, I knew she was able to make me the impactful author that I wanted to be. Her message was always blunt. I guess if I was going to continue to deal with her, I was going to have to get a little more backbone.

Breaking my thoughts, she said, “You remember what I was telling you about before?”

“Yeah, the play guy?”

“Yes,” Tina said. “I told you he was interested in buying the rights to
Luv Right or Git Left.
”

“Uh-huh.”

“Probably like in January.”

“Yeah, what about that?”

“Well, because I didn't want to come to you until I had something really firm to bring to you, it seems we've struck a nice deal. Not only will you get a nice payment for the acquisition, but the play
Luv Right or Git Left
will go on the road in a month.”

“What?” I said. “That's so soon.”

“I know, girl, but it seems they've been rehearsing since March. The presales were strong enough for them to stop trippin' over money and close the deal. They'll have a packed house.

“So the script still reads the same?”

“They changed a few things here and there, but the premise of it is your story. Bottom line, they are paying twenty thousand dollars.”

“Are you serious?” I screamed, very excited as I stood up from my chair.

“Yes, I'm such a good agent that you solely own your play rights. The publishing company won't be getting fifty percent.”

I still had to pay my agent fifteen percent. But what I'd be left with was a nice amount. This was such good news.

“But that's not all,” Tina said, as if I could see her patting herself on the back. “You will also get five percent of the play's profits. Listen, they are about to hit the road soon. The publishing company has agreed to pay for you to go on tour and sell your books. The producer, Trey Colon, will get ten percent of the book sales. So we have enough room for everybody.”

“Well, how long is the play going on?”

“Through September.”

“I can't do that Tina! What am I gonna do with my girls?”

“I don't know sweetie, but you have to figure it out. It's the summer. It would be a really nice opportunity for you. Getting away for a while might help you finish that book on the road. You won't have no husband, no babies. All you have to do is sign during the day and sell books at night. And then while you're traveling, you can be writing and when you come back to the hotel you can be writing.”

“But I talk on a tape recorder. I wouldn't have anybody to transcribe for me.”

“Girl, send them tapes home to that little girl you have over there, the little fast high school girl.

“Or you just gotta be like all them other writers, take that laptop with you and do it yourself. Just think about it. But I do need an answer tomorrow because I've got to put all your accommodations in to get you ready to go out. The first tour goes to Atlanta. Either way, you'll get something. That's cool with you, right?”

“Yeah, yeah that's fine. Thank you, Tina.” How could I ever even think of getting rid of her? This was definitely good news.

“Call me tomorrow now. I've got to go into another meeting and figure out a way to tell them their book is horrible. I thought I had a deal for it but now I gotta go over here to this publishing company and try to sell them to somebody else.”

“Alright well, take care.”

“Shari, call me tomorrow, please, with an answer. Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, and happy birthday.”

“Tina you remembered!”

“Of course I remembered! Consider this bonus as your present.”

“Sounds good.” I hung up.

All of a sudden, I got down on my knees and just praised God. I ran upstairs and found a CD from my favorite gospel artist, John P. Kee. Playing the song “Show Up” really spoke to my situation. God let me know He was there. He had showed up and shown out in my life. My blessing was on time. I played Kee's song four times repeatedly.

I ran a hot bath, sat down to soak in it, and closed my eyes. In heaven was I, as I imagined Dillon and me making love in our king-sized bed. I thought that if I told him the news he'd be real proud of me. And he'd express his gratitude by pleasing me. I could almost feel his kisses all over my neck. Taking my index finger and sucking it passionately with his tongue. Yes, my dream was good. But my whole body longed for it to be reality. Getting my groove on was going to be my birthday present to myself. The real thing was going to be much better than the dream. I was sure of it. Well, at least I hoped so, because it was my birthday wish.

A
ctually, maybe I was getting excited about nothing. Dillon hadn't said anything about my birthday. We hadn't even been speaking in the house.

Going over to my closet to find something to make his head turn, I assumed he had planned something to celebrate the date of my birth. He had always done something special for that day. Five years ago, he took me to Charleston, South Carolina. We stayed in a villa overlooking the water. Not only was the room romantic and cozy, but the mud bath was gritty and sexy. He'd been trying to outdo himself every year since then. So I just knew, even in the midst of all our trials, this was going to be another magical night.

Knowing Dillon, I would need to secure a babysitter. We'd had stupid arguments before, because he'd told me I should have known what part of the date was my responsibility—the sitter. Honestly, I was last minute in getting to that because the anger I'd felt for him over the last week made me not even want to see him in public, much less be together on some romantic outing.

Remembering, I dashed over to the phone and called my assistant Malika. She was on point and only lived a few houses up the road. Because I talked into a digital voice recorder, I needed someone to transcribe my words. I felt bad that I hadn't had any chapters to give her this last month. I knew she needed extra money for the car she was saving up to buy. Hopefully, getting her to keep the girls would be something she was up for.

“Malika,” I said in a mischievous tone like I wanted something.

With a teary voice, she said, “Ms. Shari, I can't talk right now.”

“What's wrong?” I asked with serious concern.

“If I tell you you'll hate me,” she uttered.

That statement really scared me. I'd known Malika and her mom for the last three years. We both moved into the exclusive neighborhood around the same time. My heart ached for her because she'd just lost her father in a horrific train accident. He had been the conductor of a freight train and there had been a faulty part that had gone bad causing the engine to explode. Thankfully, her mom's settlement would help ease the financial burden of not having him around.

From the moment she batted her sad eyelids at me, we clicked. I was like her older sister or mentor. And since her mom was gone most of the time working on community service projects, Malika spent a lot of time helping me. What could be the problem? She was a straight A student with complete focus.

“My mom has me on lock down,” she said, slowly revealing details. “I'm pregnant.”

My heart plummeted, like an elevator shaft falls. Why did a girl with so much promise veer from the path the Lord had intended for her. She'd already had it tough. How was she going to endure more?

“Shari, are you there?”

“When did this happen? I didn't even know you had a boyfriend.”

We hadn't talked in a few weeks. I know she wasn't that gullible to fall for some weak line from a deadbeat. I was ticked at myself for not checking in on her. What was a seventeen-year-old going to do with a screaming infant? She was still wet behind the ears herself.

“My mom is yelling for me again. I gotta go. Please don't hate me,” Malika asked strongly.

“My love for you is unconditional. Go see what your mom wants and we'll pick this up soon.”

Malika said, “Thank you, Shari, for being so understanding. Everyone else is freaking out. You get me.”

“Wait now, I am disappointed. But God loves us in spite of ourselves. Hold your head up and seek the Lord. He'll help work this for the good.”

“You believe that?” she asked, as timidly as that of a new preschooler who is unsure if his parents will pick him up.

“Yes, I wholeheartedly know God can turn a mess into something exquisite. Believe in Him, girl.”

She said, “Thanks. I really needed this. Bye.”

When we hung up I prayed for her. I had peace that though this isn't what I wanted for her, the Lord would not forsake her. I vowed to be more involved in her life.

The evening was drawing near and I was faced with having no babysitter. My mom, dad, younger brother, and his fiancée were off visiting her parents somewhere in Baltimore, Maryland, so they couldn't help me out.

The only person I knew I could trust with my babies was Grandma. I hoped she was home and not at one of her many church concerts. She was the organist for about twenty local churches. It wasn't that many, but every time I turned around she was playing for somebody different. She said she didn't even need to practice. Whatever she struck up playing, the choir would chime in singing. She was a strong black lady.

One day I got into her business, and I said, “Please tell me you ain't doin' all this for free.” I'm not saying the Lord isn't good, but they were using her and wearing her out! She told me that she was getting a little something on the side so I was very excited that Grandma had business savvy. She was racking up with all them churches.

Glad for a fashion breakthrough, I pulled out a sexy, black cosmopolitan dress. I needed something to excite Dillon. I wanted badly to energize him more fully than a charged battery.

“Oh, yeah, this is it,” I said, trying on the piece that had been in my closet for far too long.

It was strapless and it was form fitting at the top. At the bottom it flowed out like a fishtail. He wouldn't be able to resist me. I was sure about it. I was actually quite happy about being happy about us. Grandma just had to be available!

“Shar-
ri,”
she said with a country twang, “I just don't feel well. I'm quite tired, not tonight.”

“Yes, Mame,” I said, sounding polite, but saddened.

“You understand don't you, sweetie?” she said, sounding even more pitiful that she couldn't do it for me.

I couldn't get mad at my grandma. Of course, this was last minute and she was getting old. She needed to rest, but I just was counting on her. I wanted to yell, “It's my birthday, Grandma, please! It'll be alright, the babies will sleep. Come on, it's my birthday.” I could hear that she did sound quite weak. I didn't push it.

“Mommy!” my oldest yelled as she ran into my room and tugged at my housecoat.

She didn't care that she didn't give me any respect while I was on the phone. Dillon had her so spoiled that she wanted what she wanted when she wanted it. Breaking her out of that would be my mission.

Cutting my conversation short with Grandma as I told her to get some rest, I said, “Okay, Stori, what's so important, sweetie?”

“The baby fell, the baby fell!” she squealed.

At first, I couldn't hear screams coming from my child, but when I listened more intensely and walked to her room the horrifying sound became all too clear. I jetted into my baby's bedroom at that point and found her blaring at the top of her little lungs.

At that same insane moment, the garage door went up. I knew I needed to calm that child down before Dillon came in the house. He goes incessantly crazy whenever he thinks something is wrong with the girls. Our night would be ruined before it began.

Trying to figure out what happened, I thought back that she had been asleep when I put her down. I guess Stori went in there and woke her up. Starr had a few more minutes before she normally got up and she must have decided to climb out. It was okay because I handled it. No brain damage was done. We broke the crying for that matter. She was fine.

I was so proud of myself as I held Starr and walked her around in circles. Saying sweet little lullabies in her ear made the noise dissipate. The problem was last month I told Dillon to let down her crib two notches 'cause she was now able to stand up. He kept putting it off. So if there was anybody he'd need to get on, it was himself.

It didn't matter. My oldest had gotten to my husband anyway. I heard him swiftly stomping up the stairs.

Dillon barreled into Starr's room and asked, “Why weren't you watching the baby? Stori said she fell out of the crib while you were on the phone?”

I couldn't respond to that at first because I was still stuck on how in the world was I going to break the news to him that we wouldn't be able to go out? That was until I looked in his empty hands and was a little dumbfounded that he held no flowers. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I thought that they were downstairs or still in his car. So I walked over to him and tried to give him a kiss but he walked around me.

“No, no. I'm serious. Did she fall out of the crib, Shari?”

I couldn't believe that he had a little attitude with me. He was the Negro that didn't let down the mattress. He could see she was fine. Let it go and tell me, happy birthday.

“She's okay, baby,” I said, still trying to diffuse the situation.

Dillon wasn't having that though. “Answer my danggone question. Did she fall out of the crib or not?”

“Yes, she fell out,” I said quite rudely. “Because you didn't let down the stupid mattress like I told you to. You said you'd get to it this weekend. Well, this weekend wasn't soon enough.”

His tail couldn't say nothing then. He went ahead and grabbed the screwdriver that I'd had on her white-washed dresser since May. Knowing that I was right, he tried to let down the crib mattress. He had screwed the thing on so tight when she was born that he was struggling to undo the screws.

Actually, I was happy he was straining himself. Shoot, I got no happy birthday words from him. He didn't say I've got some place special to take you. He didn't even tell me I looked really beautiful. Even though I hadn't put on my spiffy outfit yet, he was still supposed to notice me. I was crushed when he didn't do that.

After he finished adjusting the crib, I handed him his daughter that he was so concerned about. He could see up close that his baby was okay. I walked down to the kitchen; Stori quickly followed behind me. When I got there, I was quite upset that I saw no flowers, presents, or anything. It appeared he hadn't even made plans. No wonder he hadn't mentioned them.

I picked up my three-year-old in my arms and headed over to the TV in the family room. I found her favorite
Barney
tape, popped it in, and she danced around. I sat on the couch and let a few droplets fall from my face. A few moments later when Dillon appeared, I didn't even see him staring at me. No part of me cared.

Sensing my agitation, he calmly said, “I was a little rough on you, I'm sorry. You know how I am about those girls though. I didn't mean to make you cry.”

I stared like a zombie at the television. The little stuff he was talking about was a poor excuse. I was hurt, I couldn't help but show it.

“Evidently,” he said, “since you're going to be mad at me, you're probably not planning on cooking. Am I supposed to go and pick up dinner? I thought you'd have something ready, and I'm hungry.”

“Why? I thought you knew,” I finally said, peering over at him with very evil eyes. “It's my birthday! I've just turned thirty. I guess it's no big deal. 'Cause I thought you would've had plans for us.”

His eyes went wide. The jerk had actually forgotten. Football was intensive, but darn I was supposed to be foremost on his brain.

The words, “I hate you,” just came out of my mouth as I got up and went upstairs and locked myself in our bathroom.

“God, this just isn't fair! Tell me why we are so unhappy? I mean, help us. Why did this happen on my birthday? Oh, Lord,” I cried in desperation to the Heavenly Father, as I physically felt like just keeling over.

I heard Dillon on the outside of the door.

“Open up, honey, please.”

“Please don't give me any lame excuses, Dillon. I just want to pray, okay? There is nothing to be said.” I had my knee up on the toilet looking out of our small window at a tree and a little bird. I really wished the bird was me so that I could fly away too.

“I'll be right back,” he said. “Relax, baby. I'll take the girls with me.”

I didn't need for him to try to piece everything back together. My high hopes for the night had already taken a big dive. When I made it to our bed, I quickly fell into a deep sleep.

About an hour later, Dillon tapped on my shoulder and one of my favorite dishes was before my eyes. He had brought dinner to me. Sautéed mussels, scallops, and shrimp was embedded in pasta with marinara sauce. I hadn't had that in a while. Also, we rarely drank. For him to buy wine along with all of this, he was trying to make up for his mistake. Sipping on the chilled glass of white Zinfandel relaxed me.

“The girls are asleep,” he said, as he fed me a piece of the garlic bread.

After I finished my first glass of wine, he kissed me intensely. His firm hands slid all over my upper body. A masseur could not have made me feel better.

“Oh, you smell good,” he said, as he undid my robe and took in the apricot-grapefruit body spray on my body. “I did forget your birthday and I'm sorry.”

His nose traveled me like a dog in heat. Deep breaths kept me from losing it. I couldn't give into the arousal he was making me feel. I was angry.

“I know I usually have plans or something, but with what we've been going through lately, I guess . . . Know that I do love you. I know I give you a hard time. I know I'm a jerk,” he said, as he placed my left toe in his mouth and made my butt twitch from one side to the other.

Gosh, Dillon did all the right things and all the moves. He wasn't as wild and adventurous as the dream I had the day before, but my husband definitely softened the blow of my disappointment with how I wanted my birthday to actually be. Dillon McCray had something special and he was really making me want it. And since it wasn't often enough, he had me. Being with him felt so pleasurable.