White Lines III (5 page)

Sunny had cried in the dark as she thought about her life and the predicament she found herself in now. She had a beautiful daughter who was happy and healthy. The home they lived in was opulent and their lifestyle lush. She had money, fame, a career as a model at an age when most women are cast aside in the youth-obsessed beauty industry. She had every material thing that her heart desired. The only thing she didn't have was Dorian, and the absence of him—the void that was left—had driven her back to the drug that had nearly destroyed her life in the first place. This time, her addiction had gotten her in more trouble than she could manage.

Sunny had dialed Malcolm's office numerous times the previous day. Each time, his secretary insisted that he was in meetings and couldn't be disturbed. His cell phone number had been changed. He had left her for dead, and gone back to life as if Sunny never existed.

“I might as well walk away from you now, while I still can.” Malcolm had said those words to her back in New York, before he convinced her to fly to Mexico with him. Sunny wished desperately that she had let him walk away.

He had never been the right man for her, and she had known it all along. She had pretended that their differences were no big deal, had forced herself to fit into his world. Jazz, ice-skating, ballroom dancing, golfing—she had experienced those things for the first time in her life while dating Malcolm. Malcolm was a starched, white-collar guy, who wore flip-flops on vacation. He was a cornball from the suburbs of Maryland. Sunny was a Brooklyn chick through and through. She saw so clearly now that it could never have worked out.

But this? She could never have imagined this. He had abandoned her. And Sunny vowed that she would make him pay for it.

*   *   *

Anisa woke up in Born's arms the next morning and was so overcome with emotion that tears of joy pooled in her eyes. With her head resting on his chest, Born's hand still cupped her ass as he snored softly. Anisa breathed in his scent and smiled. Born was
back
. Back in her home, in her bed, back in that place in her heart that she had never really allowed him to vacate in the first place. She wondered if the Hennessy she had smelled and tasted on his breath the night before had been the only thing that prompted this blissful reunion. She prayed that it wasn't.

Born had ravaged her last night. He had scooped her up in his arms and unceremoniously carried her upstairs to her spacious bedroom. Caveman style, he had tossed her on the bed and tore her nightgown in his eagerness to undress her. He had muffled her moans with passionate kisses as he slid his long fingers in and out of her wetness. He had bitten at her lips, neck, and breasts with such force that she slapped him to calm him down. It had only seemed to arouse him more, and he plunged himself into her, raw, her nails gripping into his skin as she clung to him in a glorious mixture of pleasure and pain. A guttural moan escaped her lips as Anisa reached her climax. Born seemed to enjoy the effect that he clearly had on her. Placing her legs on his shoulders, he had growled with the ferocity of an animal uncaged as he took her. Anisa had responded in kind, winding her hips to meet his, mirroring his urgency, and giving him her all. She was aware that this was her big chance to blow his mind. Switching positions, she had ridden him so expertly and with such reckless abandon that Born had held her close to him and moaned her name as he spent himself within her. Breathlessly, he had lain beneath her afterward, clinging to her so tightly that she could feel his heartbeat. He had fallen asleep that way and had slept the whole night without moving from that position.

Anisa felt understandably sore between her legs now, but she didn't mind it one bit. It was proof that she hadn't dreamed this, that this was all reality. She shut her eyes again, wanting to freeze this moment in time.

Born's eyes fluttered open, and he was instantly aware of the dry, cottony taste in his mouth, the pounding in his head, and the fact that he was not in his own bed. His eyes scanned the room and he realized where he was, recalled the events of last night. Anisa lay on top of him, and he dared not move. The scent of her hair wafted up to his nostrils, and he closed his eyes once more, berating himself. Last night had been a mistake.

Miss Ingrid had raised him to never toy with women's emotions. She had drilled it into his head over the years, insisting that he not profess his love for anyone unless he truly meant it. He lay there now, trying to recall all of the details of the night before. He didn't remember saying anything close to “I love you,” but he knew that it didn't really matter. Just having sex with Anisa was enough to give her the wrong impression, and he knew it. Born closed his eyes once more. He thought of Jada, and felt guilty. Last night had temporarily helped him to forget about her. But now she was back on his mind again, and he knew that he had made a mistake giving Anisa a night of passionate sex while his heart still belonged to someone else.

He opened his eyes again, cleared his throat, and stirred slightly. Anisa lifted her head and met his gaze. A bright smile spread across her pretty face, and it caused Born to smile, too, involuntarily. It had been years since they had woken up together this way.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Good morning.” His voice was gravelly with sleep. Glancing at the bedside clock, he saw that it was just after nine a.m. Sunlight poured through the partially open blinds, illuminating Anisa's face. She looked angelic in this light, and Born felt his heart melt a little. He searched for something to say, but it was Anisa that spoke first.

“What a night!”

She chuckled as she said it, and Born grinned, uneasily. He wasn't sure how he should respond. He was almost embarrassed by what they'd done.

Anisa, too, seemed a bit shy lying naked on top of him. She sighed. “Ethan's gonna be waking up soon … I'm gonna freshen up and go make breakfast so he doesn't catch us like this.”

Born agreed, grateful for the reprieve, and watched as Anisa climbed out of bed and walked, naked, into the bathroom to take a shower. He admired her body as she strode across the room. Anisa still looked good, and he had to resist the urge to go after her and satisfy his morning woody. Instead, he waited until he heard the shower running, and climbed out of bed himself. He could hear Anisa singing softly in the shower, as he pulled his cell phone out of the pocket of his jeans lying crumpled on the floor. No missed calls, no texts. He was disappointed. He rose each morning hopeful that this would be the day that Jada would walk back into his life. Riddled with guilt, he dialed her number.

“Hello?” she answered on the second ring.

“Hey, baby, it's me. I—

“I can't talk right now,” Jada interrupted abruptly. “I'm having breakfast with Sheldon. I'll call you back.” She hung up without waiting for a response.

Born sat there staring at the phone long after the call had ended. He felt dismissed, his pride wounded. He chuckled uneasily to himself and shook his head. For several moments he sat there in disbelief, berating himself for the heartache he was enduring. Here he was feeling guilty for enjoying the affection of a woman who still loved him after all these years, and Jada couldn't care less. He thought himself a fool.

Born turned off his cell phone, and tossed it on top of his jeans lying on the floor. He strolled into the bathroom to join Anisa in the shower, and smiled when she giggled like a schoolgirl at the sight of him. This time, he promised not to bite.

*   *   *

Sunny's hands trembled as she held the phone. The receiver was gross—greasy and caked with grime. But she only half noticed. She held the receiver with both hands, her eyes squeezed shut in order to keep the tears at bay. This was the hardest thing she had ever had to do. The cord on the old-fashioned phone was coiled tightly, leaving her little room to move about. She felt the tears stream down her face as she held the phone gingerly and avoided having it rub up against her face. Slowly, painstakingly, she dialed the number.

The stubby guard was back again, standing nearby and listening.

Marisol answered after several rings, confused by the international number on the caller ID.

“Yes? Hello?”

“Ma…” Sunny's voice quivered. “I need your help.”

Marisol could sense the urgency in her daughter's voice, even though Sunny spoke softly. She knew Sunny well enough to sense that if she needed help, it was a serious situation.

“What's wrong, Sunny? Where are you?”

“I'm in Mexico. I'm in jail.” Sunny squeezed her eyes even tighter then, hearing those awful words coming from her own mouth.

“Jail?” Marisol repeated. She said it loudly, and drew the attention of Sunny's father seated nearby. Marisol locked eyes with him, their worst fears realized. “What happened?”

“Ma, I can't explain it right now. Not over the phone. But I will tell you everything when you get here.” She took a deep breath. “They're shaking me down,” she said. “They will let me go, but they want money. Ten thousand to get me out of here.”

“WHAT?”

Marisol's voice was so loud that Sunny held the phone even farther away from her ear.

“What do they think you did?”

Sunny let the tears stream down then, aware as she was that her carefully crafted façade had all come crumbling down around her. Soon, her family would have to know that she had been getting high again. Soon. But not now.

“Ma, just get the money, get here, and get me out … please,” Sunny cried.

Marisol didn't need to hear her daughter say it. She had gone through this with Sunny before—rescuing her. Jada, too. She had helped Sunny battle her addiction before, had even had suspicions that her daughter might be sliding back down that slippery slope of drugs again. Dorian had introduced their family to a very ugly lifestyle full of arrests, shootings, addictions, and a myriad of other unsavory occurrences. But the ugly underbelly of their lives was masked by the wealth they had accumulated as a result. Indeed, Marisol knew better than anyone that her family had paid a handsome price in exchange for an existence that shined like diamonds in the sunshine to those who were watching.

She snapped into action. “Calm down,
mija.
I'm on my way.”

 

4

EVOLUTION

“You's a dumb bitch!”

Toya's voice boomed so loudly that Dominique winced. “You're telling me that
fine
ass man kissed you, and you ran like a scared little girl? You have got to be kidding me!”

Dominique shook her head at her friend. The two of them were getting pedicures at Oasis Nail Spa in Midtown Manhattan. As their feet soaked, they sipped Cosmopolitans and discussed the events at DJ's party the night before. The typically quiet atmosphere was completely different today. Toya's voice thundered each time she spoke. Her laughter echoed off the walls. But the staff wouldn't dare to try and hush her. She was one of their best tippers.

Dominique swished her toes around in the green tea–scented water. “We have a business relationship.”

Toya frowned. “So?”

“I can't work on DJ's behalf while screwing his manager.”

“Why not?”

“Because my other artists might think I was showing favoritism.”

“And?”

“I don't want anybody questioning the integrity of my work.”

“Save that shit, Dominique!”

Lucy, the nail technician working on Toya's feet, chuckled. Dominique pretended not to notice.

“What are you talking about?”

Toya glared at her. “Your ass is scared.”

“Scared?”

“To death.”

“Of what?” Dominique laughed off Toya's ridiculous statement, and sipped her Cosmo.

“Of getting involved in another relationship. Of letting down your guard and being hurt again. You don't fool me. All this talk of professional integrity and business relationships is bullshit! Your ass is scared.”

Lucy nodded in agreement. Perched on her stool at Toya's feet, she spoke in Korean to the nail tech beside her who was pumicing Dominique's heels. Dominique sucked her teeth loudly, aware that both ladies agreed with Toya. Rolling her eyes at them, she turned back to her friend.

“I am not scared, Toya. I can honestly say that I'm enjoying the single life.”

Toya looked skeptical.

“I am!” Dominique noticed that Lucy wasn't buying it either. “But let's face it. I haven't made the best relationship choices in the past—Octavia's absentee dad, Jamel, Archie. This time around, I'm not forcing it. I'm gonna stay single until the right guy comes along. And something tells me that Born is not that man.”

“You don't know that,” Toya said, squirming slightly as Lucy's scrubbing tickled her feet.

“I
do
know it. Yes, he's handsome, and he has that mixture of intelligence and street savvy that I love. But for as long as I've known him, he's been in love with Jada. He says they're not together anymore, and maybe that's true. But I don't want anyone else's sloppy seconds. Born isn't the right guy for me. And I'm not gonna waste my time spreading my legs for somebody who I know in my gut won't love me how I deserve to be loved in the long run.” Dominique shrugged.

Toya stared at her silently for a minute. Dominique didn't sound like the same lovestruck fool she had been during her relationship with Jamel. Secretly, Toya was impressed.

“What? You thinking like a man now?”

Dominique laughed hard, and Toya joined her, snickering. “I'm just saying, you sound like you went to the Steve Harvey School and graduated at the top of your class.”

Dominique looked on, as her pedicurist polished her toes. “Well, he does make some good points.”

Toya sipped her Cosmo. She waved her hand dismissively. “Whatever.”