TALK TO ME, November 2008, Urban Christian

FINAL EXCERPT BEFORE October 28, 2008 release

2008-08-31T21:20:00.000-07:00

Saturday afternoon, I sat slumped in a chair at Starbucks. I was still stewing over the previous day’s events while I stared out the window. Propping my elbows on the table, my forehead rested on my fists.
To passersby, I was praying. I wasn’t, but I should’ve been. That had been my problem. I hadn’t had a consistent prayer life in years. Thanks to the recent church service and a very pretty interpreter, things were about to change. I smiled, thinking about my brief encounter with Mackenzie. A tap on my shoulder distracted me. Turning around, Caleb Richardson stood behind me with a concerned expression.
“You okay, bro?” He fumbled a signing that translated into “You okay, uncle?” I frowned in mock annoyance. After sixteen years, a person would’ve thought that my brother knew the difference between placing his two index fingers near his right temple, which meant uncle and two fingers poised near the forehead as if gripping a cap for brother. One thing that impressed me about the church was a few members could finger-spell their names, some could sign the phrase how are you, but the competency seemed to be with the Deaf Ministry. That alone showed an attempt at inclusion.
Before the deadly accident, Caleb and I were inseparable. We didn’t have a choice. Sharing a bedroom and bath created a special bond—until I caught one of Caleb’s legs sneaking into my new designer jeans. There was no way he was going to wear my brand new stuff before I had the chance. That’s where I drew the line. Our sharing days were over.

August Excerpt

2008-08-01T19:57:00.000-07:00

INTRODUCING Todd Daniels, Chicago, IL...

When God closes one door, another one opens. Alexander Graham Bell perhaps knew what he was talking about, and despite who said it, I welcomed a crack in the door.
Maybe my co-worker, Todd Daniels, was that crack. He was a nice guy, good-looking, and church-going. A transplant from Houston, he was a designer’s assistant at Goodman. A day didn’t go by where he didn’t compliment my attire, encourage a smile, or engage me in a production decision.
More than once he invited me to lunch, which I always declined, but Todd was wearing down my resistance as he cornered me the moment I stepped off the elevator.
“Hey, Mackie,” Todd teased. At first, I considered his pet name, a pet peeve. Now I enjoyed hearing the endearment. His habit of invading my space forced me to come in contact with his nameless cologne. At least he smelled good. “Are you hungry?”
My stomach growled; answering before my lips lied. Grinning, I blushed with embarrassment, which made his eyes danced with mischief.
Grabbing my hand, he tugged me toward the lobby. “I’ll take that as a yes. A bunch of us are going around the corner for a quick bite.” He smiled, exhibiting a slightly chipped front tooth.
I squinted and admired his clean-shaven face. Maybe, my mind softly suggested, just maybe it was safe to dive into the dating pool. If nothing else, I could dip my toes in the water. It was time to let my guard down. Todd and I were becoming more than casual co-workers, we were on the road to being good friends.

July Excerpt

2008-06-30T06:49:00.000-07:00

Introducing Rhoda Wilkerson, Mackenzie's best friend at times (and also a fictional character based one of my ancestors)
Mackenzie arrives, finally, in Chicago for a visit...

Rhoda peered through the car window. “Did you come for a visit, or to stay? I haven’t seen this much stuff since we moved off campus, and don’t think I didn’t notice the bags under your eyes, the weight loss, that dingy half-smile, your unkempt hair, wrinkled clothes, and—”
“Geez, Rhoda, sure you don’t want to check to see if I’ve got on clean socks? I’ve been driving for five hours. How do you expect me to look? I’m not about to walk the red carpet for a premiere.”
With one hand on her hip, she squinted. “If that piece of rock wasn’t blinding me, I wouldn’t have noticed the other stuff.” She lifted my hand as if she was Valerie’s assistant manicurist. “Mack, this is some serious love going on here. This rock is telling me it ain’t over.”
I snatched my hand back, briefly looking away. “At one time, I thought so, too…c’mon, Rhoda, no questions.” Looping our arms, we matched our steps as we strolled on the curved pathway to her porch.
“Hmmm mmm, right, so how long are you staying before school starts?”
“Honestly, I haven’t made up my mind,” I said with a sigh.
“Well, you know my hospitality is legendary, but I will put you out,” Rhoda joked followed by the melodious sound of her laughter. The pitch, the tone, and the duration never changed.
As soon as we walked through the door into her living room, I used Rhoda’s cordless phone to call Daddy and assure him I had made it okay.
“It’s time for you to get a more dependable car. Get something like Noel’s Cadillac. I’m thinking about buying one myself.”
I ignored the reference to Noel’s car. “I’ll think about trading Old Gertrude in for something else, but not a platinum Cadillac CTS.”
Rhoda leaned against the back of her sofa and chuckled at my Mazda’s pet name. Although it was my third car since college, I called them all Gertrude. I figured if George Foreman could name all five of his sons George, then I hadn’t broken any records yet. When I disconnected, I looked at Rhoda unfazed. “Hey, let me grab my stuff and—”
Frowning annoyance, Rhoda shooed her hand. “Girl, please, Heath can get that.”
Heath, of all the names to call her man, Rhoda picked one named after a candy bar—a deep, dark chocolate treat.

June 2008, Talk to Me Excerpt

2008-05-30T20:59:00.000-07:00

Introducing Nick Dixon (in love with the wrong woman) ...

Once inside the vestibule, the doors to the sanctuary were propped open for an easy entrance. I crossed over the threshold, mesmerized. The already beautiful sanctuary was transformed into a majestic playhouse, and the new setting seemed to spill into the hall as if the splendor couldn’t be contained.
The lighting gave the illusion that the pews had shrunk. Nick bumped into me as I walked admiring the changes. The transformation had the Mackenzie touch.
“You don't need any interpretation. Everybody knows the story of Christ's birth,” he said, suggesting in another section where we were three rows from the makeshift stage. I agreed, shook off my coat and followed. I knelt to pray then sat and rested my coat and Bible beside me. Stretching my legs I had just thanked an usher for a program of the night’s performance when Nick tapped me on my arm.
“You know I’m in love with her,” Nick said, his expression serious.
“Who?”
I followed the direction of his star-gazed eyes—Valerie.
I was about to say good luck, but thought better of it. Then I reconsidered. The brother needed to know what he was getting into. “She’s a piece of work.”
Nick blew out a deep breath. “Don’t I know it, but God knows it, too. She doesn’t know that the man she’s searching for is right in front of her. I’m waiting, watching, and praying for God to not only speak to her, but give Val the mind to hear what God has in store for her.” He grinned and nudged me. “You and Mackenzie can’t be the only happy couple in church.”
I wished Nick’s confession was an answer to my prayers and could possibly deliver Valerie’s tormented soul. The lights dimmed to my relief. I didn’t want to talk or think about Valerie until it was necessary. For the next hour, I lip-read some of the songs. When those around me put their hands together, I mimicked them. When their bodies shook with laughter, I laughed, knowing I had clearly missed the amusement.

May 2008 Excerpt

2008-05-01T07:21:00.000-07:00

Introducing Mr. Fred Norton, Mackenzie's father. This is his response once he is introduced to Noel:

Also standing, I stepped forward, extending my hand. “Mr. Norton.”
“Noel Richardson, huh? Mackenzie said I’d be pleased and impressed. So far, I’m waiting for both.”
When the bearded man didn’t stir to reciprocate my greeting, Mackenzie moved to my left side, took my hand, and gave it a squeeze. A gesture Mr. Norton didn’t miss or seem to like. Pulling back my hand, I stuffed it in my pocket while he sized me up. The man didn’t know me besides a name, yet his expression showed nothing but contempt.
“Stop it, Daddy. I’m not nine. I’m twenty-nine,” Mackenzie ordered.
“I’m sorry, sir, I meant no disrespect.” The kiss outside his door must’ve really ticked him off, but apologizing seemed the proper thing to do. I wanted to get beyond that.
“Well, Mr. Richardson, sit down. Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Show on the road?” I frowned and looked at Mackenzie for an explanation, but she shrugged. Mr. Norton’s body language told me I’d missed some of his words. When I turned back to face him, I lip-read “…you’re going to hit the road.”
Stepping carefully in front of him, I cupped my right hand and pointed it down into the palm of my flat left hand, signing repeat. “I’m deaf.”
“Ah naw,” Fred Norton responded, rolling his head as he dived for me.
Mackenzie jumped and barricaded me. I gently pushed her out of harms way. I would try my best not to hurt the man, but I steeled my body for him to get his best shot before I would restrain him.
When I dodged his first swing, I had to admit this wasn’t how I imagined my year would end.

April 2008 (Excerpt)

2008-03-28T21:32:00.000-07:00

Introducing Noel's friend, Lana...

Fingers danced before my eyes. They were not Mackenzie or Sharon’s. Jerking my head, I frowned. A staffer grinned. “Stay with us, boss, or we’re likely to go to lunch at the company’s expense.”
I slapped my hands on the table. “Okay everybody, year end reports are due in two weeks.” I waved two fingers in front of them. “No excuses. It’s going to take all of us to achieve next year’s fundraising goals. That’s it.” I stood, adjourning the meeting and headed down the hall. I had almost reached my office when Lana elbowed me.
“Noel, are you okay? You seemed to zone out at times.”
“I’m fine, better than fine.” I chuckled. “I’m back in church, one that has a great Deaf Ministry. I was thinking about inviting you since you have no reason now to say no.” Folding my arms, I waited.
Displaying a seductive smile, she slanted her head, thinking. Finally, her eyes sparkled as if a light bulb turned on. She signed yes, moving her fist up and down.
Ecstatic, I wanted to squeeze her in a hug, but she often complained that I didn’t know my own strength, so I refrained. “I met a woman who I would consider special. Well, it’s hard to describe her. Mackenzie epitomizes so much.”
“No.” Her angelic look faded.
I frowned. “No? What do you mean no?”
Lana’s hands moved rapidly. “Noel, what do you know about her? You haven’t hidden your deafness from her, have you?” Her expression concerned.
“I don’t see how that’s possible.” Reaching out, I patted her shoulder. “Relax, Lana. Mackenzie is an interpreter at the church.”

March 2008 excerpt (Talk to Me)

2008-03-01T07:21:00.000-08:00

Introducing Valerie Preston, every church has one:

Grinning, I thought about our date at the concert last night. Swaggering in her direction, I stopped when I saw Valerie who seemed upset, judging from her body language. I should’ve walked away, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to intrude, but I was about to.
“And here, I thought we were prayer partners, making intercessory prayers on behalf of each other. What happened, Mackenzie?” Valerie’s lips dripped with venom. “You sure you didn’t slip in your request first and just so happened to remember mine later?” Valerie wagged her finger so close to Mackenzie’s face, Mackenzie should’ve taken a bite.
“How could you steal Noel from me? I’m the one who wanted a husband. You wanted God to open a door for you in Chicago.”
How ridiculous? God wouldn’t be that cruel to bind me to Valerie till death do us part. Exactly what did Valerie mean about Chicago? I stepped back, but I didn’t go away.
“Girl, I’m going to be praying night and day for you to leave permanently. You’re nothing more than a husband stealer. You took what God sent for me!” Valerie’s lips were so tight with emotion I thought she said God sent me for her. If it wasn’t for Mackenzie, I would leave now and return to televangelist sermons.
It was getting a little warm, so I loosened the knot on the tie that took me three tries to manipulate to perfection. I processed Mackenzie, husband, and Chicago. Neither would be happening if I wasn’t involved.

2008-02-14T14:48:00.000-08:00

RT BOOKLOVERS Convention

2008-02-14T14:02:00.000-08:00

Don't miss the 25th annual RT BOOKLOVERS Convention in Pittsburgh, PA, April 16-20th.
Mingle with 300 bestselling author, including Heather Graham, Brenda Jackson, Christina Skye.
Eric Jerome Dickey is the guest speaker at the Awards Luncheon, and he will sign copies of his bookies.
More than 1000 readers are taking over the city from across the world--yeah across the world: Australia, London, Switzerland, etc.
Visit www.rtconvention.com for more information and to see last year's pictures.
The annual Mr. Romance Competition is the most popular attraction. Fred Williams, a finalist from last year, will return and go for it all. Fred will be featured in GQ and on the next cover of my book, Talk to Me, Urban Christian, November 2008.

February 2008 excerpt (Talk to Me)

2008-02-01T06:33:00.001-08:00

Mackenzie Norton, 29, Elementary School Teacher/Theatre Assisant and Church Interpreter.....

I had waited my entire life for Noel Richardson. Physically, he was perfect, and I mean perfect, built like bodybuilder. He had hazel eyes, skin the color of maple butter syrup, and a smile that became permanent when gazed at me. He nurtured his silky black mustache that outlined his upper lip. There never a hair out of place. Lord knows, Noel was as pleasing to my eyes that at times, I couldn’t even blink.
Noel’s dress attire always amusingly reminded me of my childhood favorite action hero—good-looking as plain-old Clark Kent, but hidden under that quiet demeanor was the strength of Kent’s alter ego Superman.
His polo shirts, T-shirts, or sweatshirts couldn’t restrain his bulging muscles. The cuffs of his pants never, ever touched the dust on the floor. It was as if he had them trained to obey. Noel’s shoes—tennis, sandals, or dress shoes—were always properly maintained. He nurtured for anything or anyone he cared about, including me. So what happened?
Noel’s voice—Lord, thank You for Your handiwork—his voice. He had no idea how deep and mesmerizing his words sounded when he whispered. No one would suspect he was deaf. When he raised his voice, which was never until he shouted those scriptures at me non-stop, it was intimidating. Although Noel is deaf, his heart never seemed to having a problem hearing me. So what happened?
Spiritually, I thought he was a perfect man of God. We never clashed on scriptures, songs, or even how to praise God until—that night. I loved him, but if we couldn’t have a dialogue or a friendly debate—okay, argument—even if it was about the scriptures, how could we grow as saints of God?
When the school year began, I didn’t have Noel. It’s ended, and I still didn’t have Noel. We hadn’t talked since. Now sitting at home, I was restless. Staring out the kitchen window, I couldn’t seem to focus on anything. Turning around, I remembered to sip my coffee. The flavor was bland, not doused with my heavy hand of sugar. It was tasteless like my life.

January 2008 excerpt (Talk to Me)

2007-12-31T18:42:00.000-08:00

Introducing Noel Richardson, 31 years old, CEO of a non-profit organization, hazel eyes, 6'3", 210 pounds, and deaf.

I’m here for the deaf ministry, I signed, hoping the man understood me.

As if summons, an elderly usher appeared dressed in a faded black suit, white gloves, and a purple bow tie. After bowing like a butler, he did an about face. I imagined his heels clicked as he walked away. I took that as my cue to follow. Entering the sanctuary, the size overpowered me. It was spacious with purple cushions and eye-catching crystal chandeliers, sparkling like night stars.
Deep-purple carpet was so plush, I felt guilty for wearing shoes. Numerous ushers patrolled three aisles as if they were programmable toy soldiers. Others were sprinkled throughout the sanctuary.
I grimaced as my escort guided me to my seat. Why did visitors always have to be paraded to the front line? I didn’t have to guess that the four roped-off pews were the designated deaf area. Thanking the usher, I shook off my black cashmere coat and draped it over my arm. Scooting inside the pew, I laid it and my Bible down.
After nodding to those already there, I sat and bowed my head. “Lord, I thank You for leading me to this place, and blessing me through the years. Lord, please tell me if this is where you want me to be, Amen.” Opening my eyes, I stretched my legs and wondered if my comrades were members or fellow curious visitors.
Flexing my muscle, I crossed my arms, and waited for the show to begin. I have to be honest. I wasn’t expecting to be impressed because everyone who called themselves interpreters weren’t polished nor did they enjoyed the communication. It was a job, a well-paid one at that. As a first-time visitor, I made note of my surroundings. Despite the grandeur, it had a cozy feel.
The next thing that caught my eyes were the people crammed into a three-level stadium style seating--the choir several feet behind the podium. Then two women who appeared in the doorway stole my attention.
From a distance, neither was bad looking. The taller one was dressed to showcase her endowment, and I admired her bountiful assets. Her hair was straight and poured over her shoulders as a silver-colored dress clutched her body. Shimmer stockings hinted of tone legs. Her shoes' heels were tall and thick.
The other woman--the shorter one--seemed to possess a flair for creativity. She snatched my attention and challenged me to look away if I could. That's when I noticed her choice of colors. I didn't know red and brown matched. I smirked at the red scarf that attempted to restrain rebellious curls. Red boots raced and hid under a brown leather skirt. A short-waist brown leather jacket dared a red collar and red-patch work on the elbows. If nothing else, her attire showed she had confidence.
I closed my eyes to remind myself where I sat. Yes, I was in church, but God created men as visual beings to appreciate His handiwork. A beautiful woman was worth admiring. I inhaled a deep, measured breath.
The pair chatted as they walked, throwing air kisses, shaking hands, and returning waves to church members. Eventually they approached the roped-off pews and stopped. Briefly, they made eye contact with the group as they seemed to take a head count. The tall sister’s eyes met mine a second and third time.
Finally I looked away, thinking, I'm trying to behave. I did come for the Word not a woman. In sync, they sat in folding chairs facing us. Okay, show me what ya got, I smirked.
Unfortunately the endowed interpreter did. She yawned wide enough for a dental exam as her eyes darted around the sanctuary. Was she bored already? I wondered. That was not a good sign. So I focused on the shorter "express-yourself" woman as she bowed her head in prayer. The choir stood, opened their mouths, and swayed to sounds that prohibited to one of my five senses. I could feel the powerful vibrations under my feet. My heart pounded in harmony. Masterfully, that interpreter moved her fingers,telling me a story that dared my eyes to blink or turn away.