White Lines II: Sunny: A Novel (26 page)

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.

Sunny was on top of the world. Her adrenaline, mixed with the energy the cocaine gave her, made her feel invincible. Her strut was hard as she clicked down the runway, her hands planted on her hips seductively. The photographers snapped away as Sunny’s titties bounced enticingly with each step she took. The audience sat virtually on the edges of their seats as they waited to see if she would have a wardrobe malfunction. Then it happened. Sunny’s left breast broke free and the photographers went crazy. Sunny seemed not to notice as she kept right on going. By the time she made it to the end of the runway, both of her breasts were playing peekaboo, her areolas and rock-hard nipples posing for their Fashion Week debut.

Olivia was in a panic backstage as she watched the monitors. “Oh, my God! Her boobs came out of the dress!”

The director was smiling from ear to ear. “Honey, this is perfect! She’s owning it. Look at that girl out there! She just guaranteed that every magazine and newspaper in the country is gonna be talking about the Vintage show.”

Sunny was aware by now that her breasts had made a guest appearance. As she posed at the edge of the runway, emboldened by the cocaine surging through her veins, she smirked knowingly, and shimmied her chest as if teasing the photographers. The crowd went wild, applauding her as she turned and strolled sassily backstage, never bothering once to tuck her titties back in place.

Once backstage, anarchy erupted. Sunny looked at Olivia and asked, “Are you mad?”

Olivia shook her head. “Not at all! You just confirmed for me that I did the right thing when I asked you to be the face of this line! You are fearless, Sunny!”

The two friends slapped each other five and hugged, both of them cracking up laughing.

“All right, now, diva, let’s go!” The director snapped his fingers. “We need you in your last look for the finale.” He looked at the assistants standing nearby. “And tape them bad girls
down
this time!”

For the final walk, Sunny was put into a sequined mini shift dress in sunset colors—orange, crimson, yellow and gold, which was paired with platform calfskin stilettos. The stylist thrust a bunch of bangles onto Sunny’s arm and she thought of Dorian again, reminded of the bracelets he’d bought her on the day they’d met. She wondered if he could see her now as he looked down from Heaven.

Sunny sashayed down the runway in her final look, enjoying the applause and love the audience sent her way. Again, she stood at the end of the runway, serving the photographers with pure sass, pure attitude. Then she turned and walked off, leaving them breathless in her wake. Not only had Vintage arrived on the scene as a brand, but Sunny Cruz had arrived as the most sought-after model over thirty.

As the models paraded down the runway, applauding, the audience joined them. The success of the night was not lost on Olivia. She grabbed Sunny by the hand and together they ended the show, strolling hand in hand to thunderous applause. Zion led the standing ovation and the crowd eagerly followed. Olivia’s dreams had come true.

Backstage, the mood was celebratory as champagne flowed and laughter filled the air. Zion maneuvered his way through the crowd of beautiful people in search of Olivia. He wanted to congratulate her, to tell her that he was proud of her, that he missed her.

But when he saw her, she was surrounded by reporters and fashion critics and he stood off to the side waiting patiently. Lamin was at her side, proud of his baby sister. Zion smiled proudly as he watched Olivia holding court, posing for pictures and answering the questions she was peppered with effortlessly. Finally, she stepped away from the crowd and walked over to Zion, her permanent smile making him smile, too.