Wearing My Halo Tilted (7 page)

“Hey, y'all, hey, y'all. This is the author of that book all y'all women could not put down and you too Bryce. But you probably know who she is since her picture is on it.” Bryce looked surprised as he came very close to us and smiled.

“You're the author of . . .” he said, chuckling.

“Luv Right or Git Left,”
I affirmed, as I nodded.

“You two know each other?” Melvin chimed in.

Twitching my lips, I said, “Yeah. Well, sort of. We were just talking on the elevator.”

“Oh, that's what took y'all so long to get down here. I've been waiting on you for ten minutes.”

“She's gonna be touring with us y'all,” Melvin said to break the ice, as Bryce just kept staring at me with a little bit more intrigue this time.

He appreciated me. His warm dark eyes, displaying that he wanted to get to know me better. He leaned over and huffed quietly in a tone that only he and I could hear.

“Now I know why you asked me a question about your book, mystery lady. How'd I do?”

I felt grand. I had to chuckle to keep my composure as I could see folks around us grinning and talking. Bryce and I were almost lip-to-lip.

Taking a deep breath, I said, “You got me.”

Bryce leaned in even closer, and said, “I like your style.”

“I like that you actually read and dug my work. Now put on a great show and make the world love it more.”

Bowing, Bryce said, “Yes, ma'am. Don't worry, with your story and my acting we'll take this thing far.”

I
was one of the last to get off the tour bus. The cast seemed to be in such a hurry and I didn't have to get ready to perform so I had no problem letting others go before me. But when I stepped out into the beautiful night's air, I looked up at the sky and saw amazing stars shining down on me. Though my life wasn't great, I knew I had hope. God was up there. And though I felt unsure inside, sorta shaken up and frazzled about what this tour would do for me, I remained positive. Just as the stars blinked off and on, they reflected the dimness in my life that God would make bright again. I just needed to hold on, have faith, and be strong.

The first night it was amazing to actually watch the play. Bryce was a true star. The way he worked the stage and commanded the lines made his performance believeable. I was proud to have written the story.
Luv Right or Git Left
had loads of drama and tons of passion, but it also had a message that Bryce allowed to shine through. At the end of the first performance when the cast got a standing ovation, I rose to my feet as well.

When I went into the hallway to my little table to try and sell books, I was a little down. As people were purchasing memorabilia and CDs, my books weren't moving. I knew I wasn't a big-time author or anything, but this whole thing burst the bubble in my head. As hard as I was trying to promote and pitch my novel for folks to pick it up and buy, it wasn't a go.

For the next three nights, it was the same thing. I was starting to get fed up with this, and sick and tired of watching the play. No one cared about my product or me.

The fourth night, while the play was going on, I called up my girlfriend, Josie, and filled her in on what was up with my life. “Girl, I need to take my butt home. Them bringing me on this tour is like I'm collateral damage or something. It feels like I'm bringing down the house, you know.”

She teased, “Child, keep your head up. You know how black folks are. We come to a play to get a lil' drink, laugh a lil' bit, and go home to get busy.”

“You are so silly. How are things with you?” I asked, hoping that being a true friend would lift me up.

“Same ole same ole. My crazy mother-in-law is still jealous as ever. Causing her son to choose her over me again. But don't worry, girl. I'm 'bout to leave his butt.”

“No, what's going on now, Josie?”

“Shoot. He just got me a brand new ring. A round three-carat stone set in a platinum band. I only had to be with the guy for five years.”

“Oh my, gosh, J. That's the bomb!” I said a little too excitedly.

“Whatever, girl. I just found the receipt and it happened that he had bought his mother a ring as well.”

“You're joking, right?”

“Nope. It's like she's got to keep up with me. Don't she know I'm his only wife? We'll fix that later. Enough about me. Did you meet Mr. Maddox yet?”

“Hmm, funny you should ask,” I said, feeling better just at the mention of his name. “A few days back on the elevator actually.”

“Is he fine for real? Does he get you hot and bothered?”

“Girl, he'll make you sweat,” I said, rubbing my chest as I thought back on our encounter.

“Watch out now! I might need to join you.”

“Maybe you should so you can help me sell some of these books.” We laughed.

We were in Cleveland and Bryce had many fans here. Women came into the play wearing T-shirts with his face on them. He had to be the biggest gospel singer of our time. Crossing over to R&B would be easy for him, his fan base was mega.

During intermission, he surprised everybody when he came out and mingled for a brief moment. I was a little irritated because I was about to make a couple of sales to the T-shirt wearing crew. As soon as the women heard his voice, they practically threw the books down at me and rushed over to greet him.

Bryce happened to glance over and see where the ladies were coming from. When our eyes met, I made the biggest pout face I could. He had to understand his stunt to gain attention just screwed me over.

Mending the tension, he brought the twelve women over to my table. “Ladies, have you heard of Shari McCray? Well, she is the bomb. I read her novel three times. If you're diggin' the play so far, trust me, you'll get a high from reading the book.”

I couldn't believe he kept ranting about how if I hadn't written the book, there would be no way they'd be enjoying the play. I didn't just sell twelve books to those ladies, I sold forty. Melvin came and removed Bryce from my table to inform him it was time for the second act. As they walked away, I knew I was never going to forget his kind gesture.

Since things picked up, I decided to stay on the tour. The next couple of weeks, it was the same. The play was sold out night after night and during intermission the paying crowd was paying for my books. During the breaks, I tried to find the time to finish the novel I was working on. However, writer's block had me held up and bound.

I couldn't focus. I couldn't concentrate. I probably felt bad for leaving my kids with my mom. And with my husband; I was still so confused and mixed-up. I felt that God had given me this opportunity so that I could seize the moment and find myself.

Going into the hotel, I saw Bryce in the lobby trying to get away from a lady. Their conversation didn't seem too friendly. She was tugging at his shirt collar, practically wanting to choke him.

Melvin came over to me, and said, “Don't worry. That's his wife, Pamela. I'm sure you've read in the tabloids that they are estranged. He's trying to get a divorce, and she's trying to work with anyone to ruin him. It's just a mess.”

“You don't have to tell me,” I uttered aloud, without even thinking I was alluding to my own ugly union.

“What, you're having marital problems too? A cute little thing like you should be able to hold hers down. Marriage is hard enough, but being on the road can add even more tension to the relationship if your dude isn't supportive,” he said to me.

“Speak the truth again,” I said, as I looked over at Bryce's wife crying.

I could tell she was in pain, but yelling and screaming in the hall wasn't helping her cause. I had no clue what caused Bryce to want out, but if I was a man she wouldn't attract me.

“Melvin, can I speak with you for a second?” Lacy, the leading lady of the play, came up to him, ignoring me, and asked.

She didn't give Melvin a chance to say bye to me. She rudely jumped between us, swung her weave in my face, and jerked him over to a secluded corner. As they walked a few steps away he held up one finger, motioning for me to wait. Standing there I overheard Lacy gripe.

“Look, Melvin, I don't even understand why his wife is here. I mean, we're together now,” she said, as I swallowed hard, wishing I hadn't heard that information.

“Lacy, I can't speak for Bryce, but it sounds like you're thinking the two of you have more than is really there.”

“Ugh!” she screamed, before scampering away.

Melvin stepped back over to me. “Guess you didn't know that being on tour can give you a lot to write about, huh?”

“I try to stay out of other people's business,” I told him, giving him the politically correct answer. “My mind can think of enough warped things on its own.”

“Your agent said something about you having to report to a conference?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that's great. We got a little down time before we head to the next city. Come back.”

“I don't even know if I'm doing any good here. I'm just selling the books. You guys can do that.”

“Your presence is uplifting. You're the writer of this amazing story. Knowing you're around lifts the cast. Bryce has even talked about you many times in the preshow meetings. You're wanted back.”

I smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

And just like the stars I saw the first night of the tour that blinked on and off, I had hope. That maybe there was a real purpose why God had me where I was. Maybe if I stuck it out, that reason would become clearer.

 

 

I was in Orlando, Florida, seated beside my agent at the big banquet that the Christian Bookseller's Association hosted annually. Looking around the large ballroom I could see that there was nobody who looked like me. You know, no black folks were in the room. But they'd added a new category: Best African-American fiction.

“I think you've got a good shot at winning this thing,” Tina said to me as she looked at the other names in my category.

“Just being nominated is enough for me,” I quickly admitted to her.

She gave me a look of disappointment. Her tough demeanor was good for negotiating deals, but this time it was a little bit annoying. I didn't show any kind of resentment. I just chalked up her overbearingness to her caring. Despite what she said, I was happy to simply be there. Winning and losing was in God's hands. And as the evening went on and I got to be more up and personal with authors I'd admired, I'd forgotten all about why I was there.

Until Tina hit me in the arm and said, “Here's your category. Here's your category.”

“African-American fiction has been on the scene for over a decade now,” the presenter stated. “And I'm thrilled that the gold-medallion award this year will have representation from that genre. As Christians we all belong to the same race, but there is nothing wrong with us branching out as authors, publishers, and booksellers to reach all markets. So with the warmest regard, I present the first Christian Booksellers award for an African-American fiction title to Shari McCray!”

“Oh my God!” Tina shouted in the room.

It was a special moment for me. And the brightness of the lights and spotlight made me blink a few times. But I felt like a star, like this was my night. Like all my hard work had finally paid off.

Taking a deep breath I swallowed, stepped to the podium and said, “It took me seven years to get this book out there. I was rejected by so many companies I just wanted to quit. But the Holy Spirit living inside me told me to keep going. I realized God had me write this book to minister to the souls of the lost. The Lord has us here to bring people to Him. The title
Luv Right or Git Left
is a message to others letting them know that He doesn't want them to leave Him behind. I accept this award today grateful that the book has done well. May we all keep leading people to Him. I thank all of you for doing your work.”

I was just a little black girl going into the Christian bookstores, seeing many sections but never seeing a place for African-American titles. Standing here with this award in my hand, I felt more than accepted. The overwhelming feeling felt fabulous.

“Thank you for recognizing all God's people. Though we have different needs, we all need Him. So keep doing what you're doing and live for Christ.” I got a standing ovation and the tears fell.

The next day I was on the International Christian Retail Show floor signing copies of my book. I could see other booths where authors had their lines wrapped double for people to get signatures. My line was close to empty. But instead of sulking about it, I thought about sitting at the play and feeling ill about not selling a lot of books. I was there to uplift the Lord. Wanting to be the most popular author was not my purpose. The Lord just wanted me to be the best me I could, not put myself in competition with other authors. Though maybe my publisher wouldn't see it that way, I knew God was in control. So with every person who stood to meet me I seized the opportunity to overly exuberate how excited I was about the title. And before I knew it my line had grown extensively.

I hadn't had a chance to look up because I had to move faster with the growing line. My publicist said, “You have one more.”

“And who would you like me to sign this too?” I asked, looking down at the work.

“Bryce Maddox is fine,” the familiar husky voice said.

The pen trembled in my hand as I looked up to see none other than Mr. Maddox himself standing in front of me. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to come here to do some promotions with my new CD. I am a gospel singer you know. I heard all the buzz about this new Christian author. Had to come check her out for myself.”

“You have a copy of this book,” I whispered.

“I don't have it signed,” he whispered back. “What are you doing after this?”

“Um . . .” I uttered, having a frog in my throat.

He completely caught me off guard. Was he asking for my time? Not a date for sure.

“I think I'm done. I did some interviews before this so I got a second. What's up?” I asked, trying to act cavalier.

“Cool. Let's hang out.”

After speaking with folks at the publishing company and wrapping up at the booth, Bryce and I walked the elaborate floor. It was like the biggest, prettiest Christian bookstore you would ever want to be in. The booths were fabulous. Publishers were well represented. I didn't have enough focus to give to all the booths I was passing, because I was floored with the gentleman I was walking beside.

“So when do you leave?” I finally asked as any concerned friend would.

“Tomorrow. You free tonight?”

Hesitantly, I said, “Yeah.”

 

 

Sitting in my hotel room in Orlando, I saw I had three missed calls: one from my agent and two from my knucklehead husband. “I'm sorry, buddy. But I'm not calling you back,” I said, reflecting on Dillon. He'd made a bed with me and now he needed to lie in it; really understand how he's pushed me away.