White Lines II: Sunny: A Novel Page 20

  Ava wanted to ask Zion what happened, wanted to ask what happens next, how would things go between them now that they’d been intimate. But she didn’t—hadn’t wanted to make the situation more awkward by asking questions. So she had gathered her things, brushed her hair and left his apartment with nothing more than a kiss on the forehead and a promise that he would call her later.

  She sat now in her office, barely able to keep her eyes open after suffering through another sleepless night. She decided that she needed a cup of coffee to help her make it through the day, so she exited the solitude of her office and headed for the firm pantry.

  On her way, she passed the reception area and stopped short when she saw Sunny sitting there. Sunny wore a scarlet wrap dress and nude-colored Louboutins. She looked radiant and Ava was instantly self conscious, wondering if she looked as shitty as she felt.

  “Sunny, what a surprise! Did we have a meeting today?” Ava looked confused, wondering if she had scheduled to meet with Sunny and forgotten about it.

  “No,” Sunny said, standing and smiling at Ava. “I’m here to meet Malcolm for lunch.”

  Ava nodded, ignoring the gnawing feeling inside her.

  “There she is!” Malcolm walked up behind them and smiled as he looked Sunny over from head to toe. He kissed her softly on her lips and held her around her waist. “I have a surprise for you.”

  Sunny’s smile was radiant as she stared at him, wondering what he had in store.

  Ava couldn’t stand it for another moment. “Good seeing you both,” she said, before scampering off in search of some caffeine. She was starting to wonder if moving back to New York had been the right thing to do after all.

  “What’s the surprise?” Sunny asked.

  He smiled at her, loving the twinkle in her eyes. “I’m taking you away for the weekend.”

  Sunny’s eyes danced even more.

  Malcolm kissed her again and led her toward the elevators. “I’ve cleared my schedule and we’re going to a cozy bed-and-breakfast in the Delaware wine valley.”

  Sunny’s smile faded slightly. “Delaware?” She didn’t mean to seem ungrateful, but there was nothing appealing to her about spending days holed up in some bed-and-breakfast in a small town—days without the freedom to get as high as she pleased.

  Malcolm noticed her hesitance and laughed. “Yes. Delaware.” He pressed for the elevator. “I promise you’ll love it.”

  Her smile was completely gone now. “Babe … I’m not cut out for country living. There’s nothing about it that appeals to me.”

  He pulled her close, not caring that he was still at work and that his fellow attorneys might find his hands on Sunny’s ass inappropriate. He was in love, and he didn’t care who knew it. “I know you’re used to being in control,” he said. He rather liked that about Sunny—especially when they made love. But he wanted her to let him take the reins this time. “This weekend, I’m in charge. All I want you to do is pack your things, get a babysitter for Mercedes, and come take a road trip with me. I swear you’ll have a great time. Trust me.”

  There were two things Sunny didn’t do very well—relinquish control, and trust other people. But as they boarded the elevator she decided that maybe Malcolm was the first man worthy of such things since Dorian. She looked at him, and opted to give him the chance to prove himself.

  “Okay,” she said. “Delaware it is.”

  * * *

  “You must be crazy,” Born said, standing on the porch of Anisa’s house. She was refusing to let him inside. He had come to pick up Ethan to spend the weekend with him and Anisa stood blocking his entry with a serious look on her face.

  “I’m not crazy. Your fucking stepson is crazy.” Ethan had told his mother all about the puppy episode at Miss Ingrid’s house and Anisa was irate.

  Born took a deep breath and told himself not to lose his cool. Anisa always knew which buttons to push to piss him off. He told himself that this time her bullshit was justified. After all, what Ethan had witnessed was traumatizing. Born knew that Anisa had every right to be upset.

  “Let me in,” he said, calmly.

  Anisa stared at him without budging, thinking about it.

  He was losing patience. “I pay the bills in this bitch. So step aside before I get mad.”

  Anisa turned and walked into the living room. Born followed her, shutting the door behind him.

  “He’s not going with you today, Born. If you want to see him, fine. See him right here. I don’t bite. I’m not gonna interrupt your time with him. But I’m not letting you take him over there anymore. Not until that little bastard gets some professional help.”

  “Watch your mouth.”

  “No!” Anisa barked. “Somebody needs to talk some sense into you, Born! The kid drowned a damn dog in your mother’s bathtub.” Anisa laughed at the peculiarity of it. “Are you gonna walk around like nothing happened? Just keep bringing our son around that type of crazy?”

  “No, I’m not—”

  “You’re damn right you’re not. Ethan is my son, too. And if you can’t step back and see this situation for what it is, I can. Jada is a crackhead, Born.”

  “I’m gonna ask you one more time to watch your mouth.”

  “Am I lying?”

  “She’s not anymore. She’s been clean for years. You just like to bring that shit up cuz it makes you feel good about yourself.”

  Anisa laughed again, and it felt to Born like she was mocking him. “Okay, so she doesn’t get high any more. But she did enough damage to her son when she did get high that he’s fucked up now. He’s a sick kid, Born. What, are you gonna wait until he attacks Ethan before you see the shit for what it is?”

  Born sat down on Anisa’s sofa, trying not to hear her, but admitting to himself that she had some valid points.

  “You’re marrying a former crack addict—a crack addict who had a crack baby. And now that crack baby is growing up and he’s already killing living creatures. You know what? Serial killers murder small animals before they graduate to human beings.”

  “You’re buggin’.”

  “No, nigga, you’re buggin’!”

  “Anisa, what the fuck do you want me to say?” Born was at his wit’s end. He felt torn. He knew that Anisa had every right to be concerned about their son. But he loved Jada, and he didn’t want to let Sheldon come between them.

  Anisa sat down across from him and lowered her voice at last.

  “Say that you’ll think about what you’re doing. Your getting married doesn’t just affect you, it affects your son.” She shook her head. “It’s not about me and you. I already accepted the fact that it’s over between us. But we still have to raise Ethan together. If you marry Jada, she becomes his stepmother and her son has to interact with ours—for better or worse. And it’s only been worse lately. You know I’m telling the truth.” She paused, giving him a chance to deny it, but he didn’t—he couldn’t.

  “All I’m saying is think before you go through with this. Loving her is one thing, but that son of hers … he’s another story. If he hurts Ethan, I’ll never forgive you,” she said. “And you’ll never forgive yourself.”

  Born nodded, reluctantly. “I hear you.” He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands. He looked so helpless that Anisa felt sorry for him.

  “Don’t be afraid to change your mind about marrying Jada,” she said. “You have to do what’s best for you.”

  Born sat there for several moments before he looked at Anisa. “Yeah. That’s the problem. I don’t know what’s best for me anymore.”

  Anisa offered him a weak smile. “Then don’t be afraid to put everything on hold until you figure it out.”

  Born heard wisdom in Anisa’s words, and acknowledged that he might be in over his head. He looked at his son’s mother and nodded again. “I hear you. Can I see my son now?”

  Anisa smiled and gestured toward the stairs leading to Ethan’s bedroom. “By all means.”


  Born headed up the stairs and spent several hours playing Xbox with Ethan. He took the opportunity to talk to his son in the comfort of his own room, and Ethan admitted that he didn’t want to be around Sheldon anymore.

  “He’s spooky,” Ethan insisted.

  Born assured him that he didn’t have to hang out with Sheldon if he didn’t want to, and Ethan seemed grateful. To make him feel better, Born let his son beat him over and over again at Madden. The two of them ate the lunch and dinner that Anisa prepared and brought up to them. And Born fell asleep in his son’s bed, lying beside Ethan as he softly snored with the game controller still in his hands. Anisa peeked in and smiled, shut off the light and prayed that she had gotten through to Born at last.

  16

  HUMAN NATURE

  Sunny was breaking free. Valentine’s Day had passed, and she was grateful. All the overtures of love from Malcolm were beginning to suffocate her.

  She knew that she was lucky. Malcolm was handsome, educated, funny, romantic, thoughtful and caring. He had a roughness in bed that stood in stark contrast to the sensitive side he usually exhibited toward Sunny. He was almost too good for her, she thought. She felt overwhelmed by all the wining and dining, the weekends away, and all the attention he was paying her was starting to make her wish he’d stop. Part of her loved what he was doing, how he was making her feel. But part of her was scared to death of it, having never had anything so close to perfect in all her life.

  It was late February, and the cold winter winds that normally brought lovers together were having the adverse effect on Sunny. She felt an icy shell forming around her heart and she wanted nothing more than to escape the comfort she found in Malcolm’s arms. She wanted to get back to the life she knew—a life of partying, white lines and bottomless bottles of alcohol. Now that the Vintage launch was finally upon them, she couldn’t be happier. It meant that her schedule would be packed with fittings, press, fashion shows, and parties, parties, parties! Sunny wanted nothing more.

  Malcolm had taken her life by such storm that she felt dizzy from it all. He enjoyed taking her out of her comfort zone, and what surprised her most was that she actually enjoyed it. She had never imagined herself as the type to take a road trip to Delaware as opposed to a chartered flight to an exotic island. But when Malcolm had taken her away for the weekend a month ago, she had found herself oddly comfortable as one half of a blissfully happy couple. They had made love by the fire, sipped wine, enjoyed candlelit dinners, fed each other strawberries as they lay together talking until the wee hours of the morning—talking about their lives, their dreams and the things they were afraid of. Sunny had bared her soul to Malcolm and he only loved her more because of it. Seeing her so vulnerable as she spoke about her feelings of being responsible for almost everyone in her life, Malcolm had wanted to fix every wrong in her life and make it right.

  Sunny hadn’t shared everything with him, though. While he held her close and tried his best to fill her every void, she was secretly longing to get back to civilization so that she could retreat into the world her mind and body was now familiar with. Sunny wanted to get high again so desperately.

  She had returned to New York and gotten back to that right away. And in the weeks since then, she had purposely been seeing very little of Malcolm. Her focus was on her career again—something she was far more comfortable with than falling in love.

  Tonight was the Vintage debut at New York Fashion Week and, for the first time, Olivia was showcasing her entire line in front of the fashion-world elite. Olivia was nervous as she prepared for the runway show. Sunny, on the other hand, was completely ready—more ready than she had ever been for anything in her life. This was her time to shine.

  She had spent the day doing the things models do when they’re about to be put on display for all the world to see. She had gotten a facial, manicure, pedicure, a massage and had spent the day listening to the kind of music that made her feel empowered, cocky and ready for the world—Kanye, Jay-Z, Lil’ Kim, and Lil Wayne. She had arranged for Jenny G to spend the week at her place, setting her up in one of the guest bedrooms. Sunny had taken a bubble bath, thrown on a pair of leggings and an old T-shirt, and arrived at the venue with a bag full of coke and a smile on her face. She was ready for the world.

  She sat now in a chair at the legendary Lincoln Center, having her makeup professionally applied by one of many makeup artists scurrying around like rats in a maze. Olivia walked around anxiously barking orders at the stylists and one stick-thin model after another as she fluttered by. Sunny seemed immune to it all as she sat with her eyes closed, while her dramatic smoky eye was created. Sunny was the star of tonight’s show, starting and finishing the runway show, and she was ready for her moment in the spotlight. Sunny caught a glimpse of Olivia out of her one open eye. Olivia seemed frazzled and Sunny caught her by the wrist as she darted past.

  “Everything is gonna be fine,” Sunny assured her. “Try to relax.”

  Olivia plopped down in an empty chair, realizing the moment that her butt hit the cushion it was the first time she’d sat down in hours. “I’m so nervous,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t want the other models to know that she doubted herself. “What if it’s a flop?”

  Sunny sucked her teeth. “You sound crazy right now. This is gonna be the best show anyone in that audience has ever seen—guaranteed!”

  “It has to be,” Olivia said. “Everybody who is anybody is gonna be sitting in that audience.”

  Sunny watched her out of the other eye now as Sunny’s makeup artist switched canvases. “It’s gonna be perfect. Your work is incredible, Olivia. It will speak for itself, and Zion is gonna eat his heart out.”

  Sunny knew that was what was really troubling Olivia. She knew how it felt to want to prove yourself to the man you loved. When Dorian was alive he had often doubted that Sunny could make it as a model. She had found herself wanting to prove herself to him. So she knew how important this night was for Olivia. Zion had moved out of the home he and Olivia had once shared, and their relationship was definitely on the rocks. Olivia wanted this night to be perfect, not just for the fashion critics to eat their hearts out, but for her man to do the same.

  Olivia smiled at her friend. “I hope you’re right.”

  “I’m always right,” Sunny corrected her.

  Olivia laughed and got back on her feet. She had work to do. She had heard the saying that time tends to fly when you’re having fun, but she wasn’t having any fun and still the hours raced by like seconds. Before she knew it, it was only minutes until showtime, and her assistant was informing her that the audience was packed with boldfaced names, the front row loaded with the elite of the fashion world, and the press was hungry for a sound bite.

  While Olivia stood explaining to a reporter that her line was “street meets chic,” Sunny slipped away with a few other models and enjoyed a little nose candy. Backstage at a fashion show was like a smorgasbord of coke because the drug gave models what they wanted most—confidence, energy and a high metabolic content that kept them thin enough for sample sizes. Once she was sufficiently high, Sunny rushed over to her handler and was hustled into her first look—a floor-length, body-hugging, boldly printed dress splashed in a canary yellow, black-and-white pattern that called attention to Sunny’s tiny waist. A stylist put a black patent-leather belt around it and accentuated it even more. Her lips were the deepest shade of pink, her face painted to resemble a porcelain doll. They stylist fussed at her hair, which had been teased and styled into what could only be described as a beehive gone berserk. It was messy and unruly, but somehow worked to complement the very daring look she wore. All the models’ hair had been worked into a variation of this style and as she looked around at all of them, Olivia smiled, pleased at the sight of her vision come to life.

  Within moments, the show’s organizer was yelling “Let’s go, bitches! I need you in your places now! Three minutes till showtime!”

 
Olivia stood at the entrance to the runway with a single-file line of models beside her, all clad in her creations. This was her moment and she could hardly believe it. She had waited her whole life for this. With her heart galloping like a racehorse in her chest, Olivia stepped out on the stage and was met by instantaneous applause. Smiling, her eyes scanned the front row and she spotted her brother and all of the A-listers her assistant had mentioned, including the Kardashian siblings, Amber, and RiRi. Even Kimora had come to check out the competition. Olivia was flushed with a combination of excitement and fear as she held the mic up to her lips.

  “Thank you all for being here tonight.” Her eyes scanned the audience and she spotted him. Zion sat in the second row sandwiched between Ava and Gillian Nobles. She tried not to feel so happy to see him there. “The Vintage woman is bold, edgy, and walks the fine line between street and chic. She’s effortlessly sexy and marries the worlds of art, music, and fashion with her style. She’s authentic. She is Vintage.” Olivia paused for dramatic effect. “Enjoy the show.”

  The audience applauded again as Olivia retreated backstage. The music swelled to a fever pitch and, on cue, the runway show began, with Sunny leading the pack. The applause intensified the moment she sauntered out onstage and Sunny reveled in it. Her walk was dripping with sex appeal and the bottom of her dress seemed to swish to the rhythm of her hips. Pausing at the end of the runway, she posed, her hands on her hips, her eyes smoldering, and she winked her left eye. She knew she was a bad bitch!

  Malcolm watched from the audience, smiling. He had never seen Sunny in her element this way—parading herself like a beautiful peacock, and he was so proud of her. As Sunny turned and strutted her stuff backstage, the director sent the next model out in a look as stunning as the first. Sunny was hustled out of that outfit and into the next as pure frenzy erupted around them. This time, it was a red halter dress with a neckline that plunged dangerously low. Sunny’s breasts threatened to burst forth, and the stylist yelled at the top of her lungs for top stick. In the melee, her cries went unanswered and soon the director was shouting that he needed Sunny and he needed her now! Hurriedly, she was rushed into her shoes and shoved back out on the runway.