White Lines II: Sunny: A Novel Read online

  Sunny shrugged. As much as she wanted to have the movie opportunity, she had other things on her mind at the moment. She glanced at her purse lying on the bed, filled with the forbidden fruit. She turned her attention back to Malcolm, eager for him to leave so that she could get high again.

  Malcolm rose to leave. “I’ll come back to pick you up at seven.”

  Sunny frowned, confused. “Pick me up?”

  He nodded. “Tonight is Abe’s charity ball. If you still want the chance to win them over, this is it. Get all dolled up and pull out your megawatt smile, and let’s go.”

  Sunny nodded. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll be ready at seven.”

  * * *

  Ingrid Graham sat on the sofa in her living room, sipping some hot cocoa as she looked adoringly at her only son. Born had stopped by her apartment in Staten Island’s Arlington section, where she still lived after more than thirty years. She had raised her son in that apartment, had stuck around even after the neighborhood had declined from one of affluence to one riddled by crime and mayhem. Despite the neighborhood’s decay, it was home to Ingrid and she loved the familiarity of it—the grocers in the corner bodega knew her by name, as did all of the people in her building and in the ones surrounding it. She felt safe there. After all, no one would ever dream of fucking with Born’s mother.

  She hadn’t been seeing much of him lately, since he was busy managing his adopted nephew DJ’s rap career. Born took his responsibility to DJ very seriously and Ingrid admired his dedication to the son of his deceased best friend. She smiled at him now and he returned the gesture as he sat across from her in what had been his father’s favorite chair.

  “You look good, son,” Ingrid said. “I see Jada’s been feeding you. Looks like you put on a few pounds since the last time I saw you.”

  Born laughed a little. “So you’re saying that I’m getting fat, basically.”

  Ingrid laughed, too. “No, I said no such thing. Don’t go putting words in my mouth.”

  “You said I ‘put on a few pounds,’ which is a nice way of saying that I’m fat now.”

  Ingrid shook her head at her son, still grinning. “The extra weight looks good on you, boy. Stop being paranoid.”

  Born loved his mother with all his heart. She knew him better than anybody and had been ride or die his entire life. Her words today were somewhat prophetic, for he indeed felt that he might be slightly paranoid. “I got something on my mind, Ma. I need your advice.”

  Ingrid sat back, got comfortable and gave her son her undivided attention. “Let’s hear it.”

  “It’s Jada.”

  Ingrid held her breath, praying silently that Jada hadn’t gone back to using drugs. Since the two of them had rekindled their love affair, Ingrid had watched as Born slowly let his guard down again, slowly allowing Jada to take up residence in his heart as she had many years ago. And she knew how hard it was for Born to let himself fall back in love with her. She prayed that Jada hadn’t let him down.

  Seeing the look of concern on his mother’s face, Born knew what she must be thinking. “It’s probably nothing,” he said, dismissively.

  “I’m listening.” Ingrid looked into her son’s eyes, trying to discern what was bothering him.

  He cleared his throat. “I love Jada, Ma.”

  “I know you do.”

  “I asked her to marry me.”

  Ingrid nodded. “I know. You told me. You know how much I love Jada.”

  Born smiled, too, nodding.

  “I want to have a big wedding, too.”

  “Sounds like you thought this thing out.”

  He had. “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time now.” His smile slowly faded. “And that’s kinda the problem.”

  Ingrid frowned slightly, confused.

  “Maybe I’ve been thinking too hard about it. Maybe I’m just paranoid like you said.” He shook his head before taking a deep breath. “But I’m worried that she’s gonna start getting high again. And if I marry her, it won’t be as easy to walk away from her like I did the last time.”

  Ingrid set her mug down and looked seriously at her son. She thought about what he was saying, thought back to the years she’d spent married to his own crack-addicted father and how Leo had repeatedly gone back to the drug despite her efforts to keep him clean. She completely understood Born’s apprehension.

  “Do you think she slipped since you got back together?” she asked.

  Born shook his head. “No,” he admitted. “I watch her like a hawk and there’s no real reason for me to think she’s gonna go back down that road again. But at the same time … I can’t help thinking about the last time … how I ignored the signs. She was losing weight, shit was missing from my stash, she was partying hard and having mood swings.”

  “Any of that happening now?”

  “No.”

  “So why are you worried about her going backwards?” Ingrid asked.

  Born shrugged his shoulders, his eyes fixed on his mother’s. “I don’t know, Ma.” He tried to find the right words. “Her son…”

  Ingrid sat back. “What? Her son is the problem? I thought the kid is like nine years old.”

  Born shook his head. “Sheldon’s eleven, and he’s been acting up, challenging authority.”

  “Your authority?”

  “No,” Born thought about it. “Not me, but … his mother, his teachers at school.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I get worried that the stress of him acting up is gonna drive her back to the drugs again.”

  Ingrid picked her mug back up, took another sip of her hot cocoa and sighed. “So do you ever step in and try to talk to him? Maybe he would respect it more coming from the man in Jada’s life.”

  She watched Born think about it.

  “You know, Marquis, in all the years that your father got high he never managed to stay sober for more than a few days. Never in all those years did he succeed at that. He tried plenty of times, but that high always called him back. So if you ask me, the fact that Jada has been clean for more than ten years is incredible. The chance of her going back to that—knowing everything she lost before—I think it’s pretty slim.”

  Born listened intently, praying his mother was right.

  “I know for a fact that she loves you,” Ingrid continued. “She always has. Even when she slipped and started getting high again I know she loved you still. She’s a great mother, too. So for those two reasons alone—her love for you and her love for Sheldon—I think it’s safe to say that she has too much to lose by going backwards.” Ingrid grinned at him. “Talk to her son to find out why he’s not listening. Try to reason with him and remember what it was like when you were his age.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  Ingrid laughed. “Seems like only yesterday.” She took in all the features of his face. “You are definitely your father’s child. When Leo was alive—before the drugs took their toll on his body and put him in the wheelchair and out of the game—Leo would think about a thing so hard to the point that he saw problems where there were none sometimes.”

  Born smiled, thinking of his father in his heyday. Leo had been his hero back then and he appreciated being compared to him that way.

  “It’s the hustler in you that’s got you looking at this thing from all these different angles. Just stop overanalyzing it and trust your heart. Jada loves you. You love her. That’s all that matters. Love conquers all.”

  Born smiled, nodded at his mother and was glad that he had come to talk to her today.

  “You’re all right, ole girl.”

  Ingrid stuck her middle finger up at him. “I got your ‘ole girl’!”

  Laughter filled the rest of their afternoon together and for old times’ sake, she cooked his favorite soul-food dish and he ate until he fell asleep on her sofa with a smile on his face. There was something therapeutic about a mother’s love.

  * * *

  Jada was exhausted. She was finishing up her Thanksgiv
ing shopping at the Pathmark on Forest Avenue, and all she wanted was to get home and relax. Dressed demurely in some jeans, a black turtleneck and black Timbs, she yawned as she pushed her shopping cart from one aisle to another. She was having trouble sleeping lately, and when she finally did fall asleep each night she was tormented by dreams of Jamari, and of her mother.

  Jada thought about Edna often around the holidays. Toward the end of her life, Jada had reunited with Edna and had spent the holidays bonding with her in a way that most girls took for granted—brushing her mother’s hair, cooking with her, laughing with her. Jada cherished those memories. The holidays became a bittersweet time as she pondered old times and enjoyed the new good times she’d been blessed with.

  She entered the vegetable section and scoured the greens for some collards. Standing there, she yawned for the hundredth time. Her day job as assistant editor at a premier black women’s magazine was demanding. Mothering Sheldon and trying to write a new novel were added burdens she bore.

  “Mm-mm-mmm! Still looking good after all this time.”

  Jada heard a voice behind her, but was so lost in thought that it didn’t register at first that the person was speaking to her.

  “Yeah … you ain’t changed much at all.”

  Jada turned to see who was talking to her and froze in place upon seeing who it was.

  “Aw, come on now. Don’t stand there like you ain’t glad to see me,” Mr. Charlie said. He wore a black Kangol, leather jacket and black slacks, and to Jada he looked like the devil himself. He was the one who truly hadn’t changed. His lips were drawn into a snarling smile and he looked at her as if undressing her with his eyes.

  Jada felt her blood boiling and her hands clung tighter to the shopping cart, gripping it so hard that her veins bulged.

  “Get away from me,” she hissed.

  Charlie’s smile remained. “That’s no way to treat an old friend, Jada,” he laughed. “You all cleaned up now, I can see that. You look good, too—real good. I saw you standing over here all by yourself and figured I’d come on over and say hi. Haven’t seen you since your mama’s funeral but I heard you done blown up—writing for a magazine, got a book out.” He nodded as if these were impressive accomplishments. Then he leaned in so close that she could smell the Newports on his breath. “But some of the stuff me and you did together … you couldn’t put that stuff in no book. Ain’t that right, baby?”

  Jada’s face felt hot and her jaw was clenched as she stared back at him. “Get the fuck away from me.”

  “Charlie,” a familiar voice called out. He turned to face the person and Jada looked, too. She was shocked to see her old so-called friend Shante Howard walking toward them. Shante was the same age as Jada and they had known each other since they were teenagers. In fact, it had been Shante who introduced her to crack cocaine and then laughed from the sidelines as Jada descended into a dark and hellish life because of it.

  “Charlie,” Shante said. “I called your name like three times.”

  Shante wore a raggedy, old green bubble coat with a rip on the right arm. When she opened her mouth to speak it was clear that most of her teeth were missing. She had a ratty scarf tied around her head and she looked at least twenty years older than she actually was.

  Seeing Jada, Shante looked visibly embarrassed. Jada looked better than ever, despite the fact that she had on a simple outfit and no makeup. Her eyes were clear, her hair clean and combed, and these things were in stark contrast to Shante’s appearance. It was obvious that Shante was still in the clutches of drug addiction while Jada showed no visible signs of what she had once been.

  “Oh,” Shante said, as she stood beside Charlie. “Look who’s here.”

  Jada looked at Shante sympathetically. Despite the contempt she felt toward her, it was hard not to feel sorry for the woman, seeing her condition. Jada looked from Shante to Charlie and back again, realizing that the two of them were there together.

  “Shante’s with me now,” Charlie said proudly, as if reading Jada’s mind. “Kelly died last year—cancer,” he explained, as if Jada would care. “So now Shante is my lady.”

  Jada shook her head, trying to shut out the memories of giving herself to Charlie, his hands on her body, his old penis invading every part of her. She thought of how he had turned her out, enticing her to sell her body to strange men in exchange for crack. She looked at Shante—someone she had thought of as a friend at one time—and saw nothing but a snake.

  Shante read Jada’s disgusted expression and scowled at her. “Don’t look at me like that, bitch. You musta forgot where you came from. You cleaned yourself up and now you think you better than me?”

  Jada looked at Shante, then at Mr. Charlie and retrieved her purse from the shopping cart. She would finish her Thanksgiving shopping some other time. She turned to walk away but first she took one last look at both of them and said, “I am better than you.”

  She all but ran from the supermarket, tears streaming down her face, her every instinct telling her to get as far away as she could.

  8

  LUSH LIFE

  Sunny stood staring at her reflection in the mirror as she put on her diamond earrings. She was getting ready for the charity ball and had been listening to a Mary J Blige playlist on her iPod while she dressed. She was high as a bird, her eyes sparkling with anticipation and her stilettos tapping the floor as she kept time with the music.

  “To those pretty memories … for the record, I love you.”

  She hadn’t been able to push thoughts of the good ole days from her mind. All afternoon as she got high off the coke she’d taken from Sean’s room, Sunny had been reminiscing about when she and Jada had taken New York City by storm. They had had it all then. And Sunny wanted it all again. She decided that it was time to accept the fact that Jada was on a different page than she was now. Sunny wanted the joy she’d felt once upon a time, while Jada had found a new contentment. It didn’t matter. They would always be friends, Sunny told herself. But her life was moving in a different direction and she liked the way it felt being back to her old self.

  The front desk rang her to announce Malcolm’s arrival. She took one last hit, grabbed her small clutch bag and left, ready for a night on the town. Sunny emerged from the elevator looking like she had just stepped out of a dream. Malcolm stood frozen in place, watching her glide toward him. She was resplendent in an Elie Saab gown. It was a nude color, entirely embroidered with sequins. It was backless, with a draped and plunging neckline and a high slit. Malcolm’s mouth hung open in pure awe.

  He fought to compose himself as he took her in, breathtaking in the curve-hugging gown. He closed his mouth at last and smiled as she neared his side. “You look incredible,” he said.

  “You, too.” Sunny was checking him out as well. She thought he looked very handsome indeed. His Tom Ford suit fit him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders, and he smelled good, too. Sunny didn’t go for the clean-cut, Ivy League type. The men she found herself most often attracted to tended to be more rugged, more street. But she had to admit that Malcolm was looking good enough to make her rethink her type.

  She allowed him to lead her outside. All eyes were on the handsome couple as they walked through the magnificent lobby and out the door. Once inside Malcolm’s rental car, he looked over at Sunny and repeated, “You really do look incredible.”

  Sunny blushed, something she didn’t usually do. Seeing her turn red made Malcolm smile.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought you’d be used to people drooling over you by now.”

  Sunny shook her head modestly, gazed out the passenger side window and watched the L.A. nightlife unfolding around them. Tonight’s gala was being held in a ballroom at the Beverly Hilton hotel and Sunny was aware that this could be her last chance to court the executives at Kaleidoscope.

  “So do you think Abe will be mad that I’m still coming to the ball after not showing up this morning?” Sunny thought about the past tw
enty-four hours. What a whirlwind! She had gotten high off cocaine for the first time in years, only to awaken next to a dead body. She had stolen several grams of coke from her ex, been interrogated by the police with said grams still in her purse, and then interrogated further by her new attorney. She had spent all of that afternoon getting high in her luxury suite, and now she sat clad in a luxurious gown and her favorite diamonds on her way to a charity ball benefiting disadvantaged youth. Sunny’s mind was still reeling from it all, still floating from being high. But she was maintaining, had always been the type to maintain. She told herself that she had everything under control.

  “I think he’s gonna have questions,” Malcolm allowed. “But he’d be crazy not to want to move forward with the project after hearing your explanation.”

  They pulled up to the Hilton and gave the keys to the valet. They entered the hotel and Malcolm watched Sunny’s behind as she sauntered into the hotel. The sway of her hips nearly hypnotized him. They walked into the packed ballroom and Sunny was wide-eyed—both from the white powder coursing through her system and from the excitement that was palpable in the room. A live band jammed in the corner of the ballroom and guests were out on the dance floor making the most of it. As they walked through the room, they were both aware of the stares Sunny elicited in her dress, her long legs and toned thighs playing peek-a-boo with every step she took. Men started lustfully, women eyed her hatefully and Malcolm all but drooled. She was sexier than every bottle-blonde in the room.

  Abe spotted them from across the room, and Sunny watched him bend down and whisper something in Miss Marketing’s ear. With the coke giving her even more courage than she usually boasted, Sunny headed in his direction without warning. Malcolm trotted behind her to catch up.

  “Abe!” Sunny’s voice boomed as she reached his side. She air kissed him in greeting—something she’d been watching this Beverly Hills crowd do ever since she had stepped into the room—and flashed her most disarming smile. “I owe you an apology for missing our breakfast meeting this morning. But you would not believe the day I’ve had!”