White Lines II: Sunny: A Novel (6 page)

Sunny met his eyes again. She stared at him for a few long moments before her lips spread into a broad smile and she handed him her phone number. Taking it, Dorian’s hand brushed hers.

“I’ll call you tonight,” he said.

Sunny turned away, knowing that he was watching her as she walked back into the sneaker store where her brother was still shopping.

“You’d better,” she called out over her shoulder.

*   *   *

Ava’s entrance into the office snapped Sunny and Jada back to the present. The two of them hadn’t even noticed that they’d been sitting side by side in silence for several minutes. They had come in order to go over the details of their publishing contract with Monarch Publishing. But Ava had some new developments of her own to present them with.

She sat down at her expansive desk. “Ladies, we’ll go over your paperwork shortly. But first, Malcolm has a proposal for both of you.”

“Who the fuck is Malcolm?” Sunny hadn’t meant to be rude but thinking about Dorian always made her snappy.

Ava laughed a little and gestured behind Sunny and Jada. “Malcolm Dean, this is my friend Sunny and my sister Jada,” Ava said over their heads. Both Sunny and Jada turned around to see a nice-looking brother entering the office.

He came around to face them and extended his hand to Jada first. “You’re as beautiful as your sister,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you, Jada.”

Sunny sized him up as he greeted Jada. He was about six feet tall, maybe an inch or two shorter at most. He was clean cut, low fade, neat goatee. His skin was like a warm caramel apple.

“And, Sunny, it’s nice to meet you also,” he said. “I’ve heard a whole lot about you.” Malcolm was smiling as he extended his hand to her.

She looked at Ava and wondered what she had told this Malcolm.

“Hello,” she said simply, annoyed now for some reason.

Ava cleared her throat. “Malcolm is one of my fellow partners here at the firm. He recently transferred from our L.A. office so he brings with him a whole new sector of business.”

Jada wondered if Ava was aware that she was blushing as she spoke of Malcolm and his accomplishments.

“One of the many companies he’s had a long-standing relationship with is Kaleidoscope Films. They’re the company that produced the critically acclaimed documentary on rock stars and drug culture … what’s the name of it?”

“
Rock Boys
,” Malcolm answered. “It won an award at Sundance and the
Times
wrote a piece on it. But that’s not all Kaleidoscope is known for. They produced a few animated and indie films and now they’re looking to get into an urban market.”

Sunny frowned. She was wary of lawyers and their big words, no matter how handsome they might be. “So what, they wanna make us into a cartoon or something?”

Malcolm and Ava laughed. Jada looked confused and Sunny was clearly not amused.

“No,” Malcolm said. “They want to do a docudrama. A movie about you, but using actors to portray you and what you’ve seen in your lifetime. A friend of mine is on their board of directors and they’re interested in what I’ve told them about your story so far.”

Sunny and Jada looked at each other.

“But you don’t even know us. What could you have possibly told them?” Jada asked.

Malcolm seemed surprised by the question. “That your book was a
New York Times
bestseller.” The ladies had been catapulted into the spotlight with their novel
Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction
and had found themselves with a large fan base. But because of a controversial interview with then radio host Mindy Milford, people wanted to know the story
behind
the duo that wrote such salacious fiction.

Jada nodded. “Yes, but our book is fictional. You’re talking about basing this movie on
us
. That’s a lot different.”

Ava cleared her throat again, then took a sip of water from a bottle of Evian on her desk. “I spoke to Malcolm about your back story.”

“Backstory?” Jada asked, her brow furrowed.

Sunny nodded, understanding completely. “She told Mr. Malcolm Dean here that we used to get high and that we based the characters in the book on ourselves.”

Malcolm smirked, intrigued by Sunny’s straightforwardness. Ava had described Sunny as a bold personality. But she hadn’t described how strikingly lovely she was.

“How much are we talking?” Sunny asked.

Malcolm shook his head. “We’re not at that point yet. For now they want to meet you both; fly you out to L.A. and see if this is a good fit for everybody.”

Sunny and Jada looked at each other again.

“What do you think?” Ava asked.

Jada looked at her sister, wondering what she had gotten them into. She had to admit to herself that the thought of having a movie based on her story was flattering. “I mean, it can’t hurt to go and see what they’re proposing.”

Sunny saw Malcolm smirking and she made a sarcastically excited face. “We’re going to Hollywood!” she yelled.

4

POP LIFE

Today was DJ’s twenty-first birthday and Born was helping him pick out his first luxury car. As Dorian’s firstborn child and only son, DJ was the heir to much of his fortune and therefore had gotten his first new car at the age of sixteen. He had been afforded every extravagance imaginable for all of the milestones in his life. But now, as he stepped officially into manhood, DJ was about to sign a very lucrative and groundbreaking deal with Def Jam and Born knew that DJ’s life was going to change drastically. He was determined that the young man remain levelheaded. Still, he saw nothing wrong with enjoying the fruits of one’s labor, and had happily accompanied him to the dealership to see what whet his whistle on this day.

DJ was admiring the Mercedes SLR McLaren—black, with a set of chromed-out rims. He was open, and it showed on his face.

“I see you like this one,” Born said, nodding his approval at DJ’s good taste in cars. “I can picture you in that.”

DJ was beaming. He could picture it, too. “Yeah, this shit right here is hot!” The interior was crazy, and DJ’s eyes danced across the peanut butter leather seats.

Sheldon stood watching. He wasn’t having a good day. His mom was mad at him, and he was in trouble at school. He didn’t know why he had done what he did. His class had rehearsed for the play nonstop for weeks. He was one of the three turkeys, with the elaborate costumes that went along with the role and no lines besides, “Gobble, gobble.”

Sheldon was lucky to get a part in the play at all. His behavior in class had been disruptive. But it was unintentional. Sheldon got antsy sometimes. He would be sitting there listening to the lesson one moment, and the next he had an uncontrollable urge to stand up and start rhyming, or start hollering, or start doing anything to break up the monotony. He physically
couldn’t
sit still for too long. His teacher had warned him that if he had any more major outbursts he would be kicked out of the play. So he had gone along with the program for days, staying in his seat, biting the inside of his cheeks till he bled, just to quiet the urge to cry out. And it had worked. The day had come and he had put on his costume. The music had swelled and the turkeys had made their stage debut.

“Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble…” Sheldon didn’t know why he couldn’t stop. He was supposed to say it only two or three times, but the word had gotten stuck in his throat, replaying itself like a stuck needle on a record. He had raced around the stage flapping his arms like wings and yelling “gobble,” ignoring the fact that the other kids had lines to say, lines they’d rehearsed repeatedly for weeks. It didn’t matter that all the parents were in the audience, that everyone was frowning at him, yelling for him to stop and let them continue the play. He hadn’t been able to stop until they dragged him offstage and snatched his turkey hat off his head, stripped him of his brown costume with the orange tips. He had cried then, upset with himself for losing control, upset with them for being mad at him because of it, and pissed off that his mother was all dressed up and crying in front of all his teachers. He hadn’t meant to make her cry.

“What you thinking about, little man?” Born asked, seeing Sheldon staring off into space.

Sheldon shrugged. “Nice car.”

Born patted the kid on his head, feeling sorta sorry for him. It had been difficult forming a relationship with Sheldon. Naturally, Born had love for the little boy. He was, after all, Jada’s son, and Born loved Jada completely. But there was a part of him that was still pained by the reality of who Sheldon’s father was. Jamari had been Born’s enemy, his antagonist, and had moved in on Jada at the weakest time in her life. Using manipulation and drugs to entice her, Jamari had weasled his way into Jada’s life, into her bed, and Sheldon was the result of that. It hadn’t been an easy pill to swallow, and there were times when Born got an unwelcome feeling of resentment toward both Jada and Sheldon whenever he thought about the situation for too long.

The fact that Sheldon was growing increasingly difficult to manage only added to the problem. But, today, Born felt sorry for the kid. Sheldon looked like he had lost his best friend.

“I think I want to test drive it,” DJ said, circling the car like a tiger stalking its prey.

Like magic, a salesman came over and asked, “Wanna test it out?”

“Yeah,” Born said. “Let him take it out for a spin. We’ll wait here.” He watched like a proud father as DJ climbed behind the wheel, looking like it was made just for him. As they pulled away, Born led Sheldon to the waiting area and they sat down side by side.

“So tell me what happened today at school,” he said. Born had heard Jada’s side of the story, but now he wanted to hear Sheldon’s.

Sheldon shrugged. “I got in trouble,” he mumbled, stating the obvious.

“Why?” Born pressed.

“I got nervous,” Sheldon lied. He hadn’t been nervous at all. But being just eleven years old, he didn’t know how to express what it felt like when the urge came over him to rebel, to destroy, to wreak havoc. It was an overwhelming urge that he felt powerless to stop. “I kept repeating my lines and they got mad.”

Born stared at the youngster sitting with his head bowed, speaking with his voice low. Some kids were just bad, he thought. But Born didn’t feel that DJ was one of those kids. He wasn’t just plain bad. There were moments when he was a genuinely good kid. But lately he had noticed that Sheldon was having outbursts in class more and more frequently. “Why didn’t you stop when they told you to?”

Sheldon shrugged again.

Born was beginning to wonder if his increased presence at Jada’s place was the reason for Sheldon’s recent rebellion. “How do you feel about me and your mother being together?” he asked, point-blank.

Sheldon looked at him with an odd expression. Born prided himself on being able to read people well. Expressions, body language, hand gestures—Born read them all like literature. But this look on Sheldon’s face was hard to place. It was somewhere between defiance and anger, bitterness and nonchalance.

“That’s between y’all.”

Sheldon looked away after he said it, watched a car salesman stalking his next prey—a white lady with a pimply-faced teenaged son who was probably turning sixteen. Born watched Sheldon closely, tried to see what was going on in his head.

“Not really,” Born said. “It’s not really between just me and your mother, because I’m gonna be moving in. That affects all of us. I’ll be there daily and Ethan will be coming over, DJ will be in and out. You have a right to feel how you feel about all that.”

Sheldon kept watching the car sale in action. He heard what Born was saying, but didn’t respond to it.

“My mother was never with anybody besides my father.” Born thought back on his father, Leo Graham, as he said it. “Even after my pops died, my moms never got with any other man.” He unwrapped a wine-flavored Black & Mild cigar, lit it, picturing his father’s face in his mind. Seemed so long ago that Leo had been alive, and his wild existence had so intensely shaped Born’s own. “So I won’t pretend to know how it would feel to have some nigga moving in with my moms, being a father figure to me—”

“
Father
figure?” Sheldon interrupted. He sounded older than his eleven years. He chuckled. “Tsss…” He shook his head. “I don’t see you like no father figure.”

Born was not expecting that. “So how do you see me?”

“You’re … just
Born
.”

“And what does that mean?”

Sheldon glanced at Born, then looked away. “I mean … you’re not my father.” He shrugged, looked uncomfortable and started fidgeting. “I don’t know nothing about a father; nothing about
my
father … I ask about him and it makes her cry, so…” Sheldon shrugged for the thousandth time. It seemed to be his signature move. “But you’re cool. I like you. My mother likes you, so…”

Born listened to Sheldon, fixated on one part of what he’d just said. “
I don’t know nothing … about my father
.”

Sheldon continued, still fidgeting. “I didn’t mean to get in trouble today,” he said. “So don’t take it personal.”

Born was blowing out cigar smoke and cracked a smile as Sheldon sought to ease his conscience. Sheldon was wise beyond his years.

DJ returned from his test-drive looking like he had fallen in love.

He climbed out of the car and Born couldn’t tell whose smile was wider, DJ’s or the salesman’s. “Where do I sign?” DJ yelled.

Born and Sheldon both laughed and walked over into the office to handle business. Born patted Sheldon on the head again and felt that with the proper guidance the kid could turn out all right. His mama had always told him that love conquers all.

*   *   *

Sunny and Jada sat on opposite sides of the table at the café in Columbus Circle. It was early November and Sunny peered through prescription glasses as she perused the menu. She had never had to wear glasses in her life, but as she neared the age of forty a lot of things had changed in her body and in her mind as well. She didn’t feel old, necessarily, but she did feel seasoned. Her hair pinned up, she wore a pair of gold earrings and a crisp white T and skinny jeans. Jada had opted to let her hair hang loose on this day and strands of it seemed to dance on the breeze that blew softly through the partially open window they sat beside. It was an unseasonably warm autumn day, and the two friends were about to enjoy a meal before playing their favorite sport—shopping. Jada’s coral-colored sweater-dress complemented her skin tone and when she smiled at the waitress as she set down their drinks, the waitress smiled, too. It was contagious.