by Tracy Brown
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?”
“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.
Sunny sipped her drink. Setting the glass down afterward, she toyed with the stem, tracing her finger down its length.
“You’re awfully quiet today,” Jada observed. Sunny and silence seldom went hand in hand.
Sunny smiled. “I’m thinking about what Malcolm said. You know, about the movie.”
Jada sipped her wine and looked away.
Malcolm had sold them on the idea of doing a story based on how they’d risen from ’round-the-way girls to ghetto superstars, fallen victim to cocaine addiction and then pulled it all together before it was too late.
“I can’t wait to start filming! Who will they ever find to play me?” Sunny’s eyes twinkled at the possibilities. “Maybe I should play myself.”
Jada laughed. “I think you are playing yourself.” She looked Sunny in the eyes. “And I’m playing myself, too.”
Sunny frowned. This was new. When Malcolm had presented them with the opportunity days ago, both ladies had been excited by the prospect of a film. Now, Jada sounded like she was having a change of heart.
Jada looked away. Until now, they had dodged most questions about their past, playing coy when pressed for details. And while Sunny admitted publicly that she had dabbled in cocaine, Jada hadn’t been as candid. She had chosen, instead, to remain quiet on the subject. She had become the reclusive writer, living a quiet life at home as a mom and as a survivor, while Sunny had embraced her newfound celebrity status.
“When we talked about this last week, you were down with it. What happened?”
Jada shook her head. “I thought about it and realized how crazy it is.”
Sunny’s frown deepened.
“Why are we even entertaining the idea of airing all our dirty laundry out on Front Street like we’re not mothers…”
“Are you serious?” Sunny sat back and looked at Jada like she was crazy.
“What if our kids go to school and somebody tells them they saw some movie about us?”
Sunny shrugged. She never gave a fuck what people said about her. “Who cares?”
“I care. I don’t want Sheldon hearing that I used to get high.”
“Jada,” Sunny said gently, trying desperately not to raise her voice. “You’re saying that you’ve never had a conversation with Sheldon about what you used to do?”
Jada sipped her wine with trembling hands. “You told Mercedes about it?” She lowered her voice to a whisper, “About using cocaine?”
Sunny wondered if her reading glasses masked her shocked expression. “Yes!” She couldn’t believe that Jada hadn’t done the same. “The last thing I want is for someone to tell Mercedes about my past before I had the chance to tell her myself.”
“They’re not even in high school yet!” Jada’s laugh was one of pure astonishment. “Sheldon is only eleven years old. Mercedes is twelve. They still watch cartoons! And you’re saying we should be laying all that out for them at this young age?”
Sunny stared at Jada for a moment. Despite all that they had been through, Jada still had a wide-eyed innocence about her that Sunny found at once amusing and annoying.
“Jada,” she began.
“What?” Jada asked sarcastically. “You’re gonna say that I should tell Sheldon that I used to smoke crack because some kid in his class might tell him before I do?”
“What if one of the counselors at school tells Sheldon? Or what if one of the kids in his class overhears their parents talking about it?”
Sunny could tell that Jada hadn’t considered that possibility.
“You live on Staten Island. That is the most incestuous borough in the city. Everybody knows everybody. But you think you can keep your son from finding out what you used to do? Not for long! Shit, you’re leaving yourself wide open!”
They were interrupted by the waitress. She brought their salads and then hustled over to the next table.
“So am I hearing you right?” Sunny asked. “You’re saying no to the movie? No to L.A. and to all the fabulous things that come with that? You say no?” Sunny’s expression was incredulous.
Jada shrugged. “I’m saying no for me. But you should still do it if you think it’s a good idea.”
Sunny frowned slightly. “Why me and not you?”
“Because this is your kinda thing, Sunny.” Jada sighed. “The attention, the red carpet and the spotlight. That’s not my thing.”
“Oh, so now I’m an attention seeker.”
“No, don’t put words in my mouth. But you’ve always wanted fame and fortune. I’m happy with just the fortune.”
“But you don’t have a fortune, Jada.” Sunny saw Jada’s facial expression turn defensive so she backtracked. “I’m not saying that you’re broke, but who turns down the chance to make more money?”
While Sunny had escaped the clutches of cocaine addiction and drug sales with her ex’s fortune, Jada had settled into a much calmer lifestyle. She didn’t have the kind of money that Sunny did, but she was doing very well for herself. And she was content with what she’d been able to establish for herself after having fallen so far down all those years ago.
“I’m not gonna sell my soul for some money,” Jada said.
Sunny laughed. “You’re being dramatic. It’s just a damn movie, Jada!”
“A movie guarantees the spotlight and all that comes along with that.” Jada shook her head. “I’ve had enough scrutiny to last me a lifetime. You should do it if you want. But my answer is no.”
Sunny chewed her food and looked at her friend.
“Our book deal with Monarch Publishing is my focus right now,” Jada continued. “We have a two-book deal and the first one did so well that I want the follow-up to be even better. While I’m busy with the book—cuz we both know it’s been like pulling teeth to get you to sit down and focus on this next
story line—you can go full steam ahead with your movie. That way everybody’s happy.”
Sunny sipped her drink and stared at Jada silently for a few moments. “There’s no guarantee they’ll even want to do the movie without you on board.”
Jada shook her head. “They’d be stupid to turn you down. Your story is enough all on its own to make a few movies.”
Sunny laughed at that despite herself. Jada laughed as well, grateful that the ice had been broken.
They ate their food without speaking for a while, the sounds of New York City all around them, drowning out the silence.
“It won’t be the same if you’re not on board,” Sunny said, looking through the window at two old ladies crossing the street together. She wondered if those women had been friends for a lifetime the way it seemed that she and Jada had.
Jada wiped her mouth with her napkin and sat back. “Do you remember that Mindy Milford interview back in ’07?”
Sunny rolled her eyes. How could she forget that?
Mindy Milford was the scandal-obsessed radio personality in New York who had ambushed the ladies when they went on her show to promote their debut novel.
“She asked us if we ever snorted coke like the characters in the book.”
“Yup, and I told her that I was able to write the character Charlene so well because I had walked a mile in those shoes. So?”
Jada nodded. “So, while you admitted what went on in your past, I was dead quiet. I was scared to death that she would turn her questions on me. You have no problem laying yourself out for public scrutiny. But I’m different. My story is different. I used to smoke crack, Sunny. Not just some expensive pure white.”
“So that makes it better that I got high up my nose and you smoked it out of a pipe, Jada. We both had a cocaine habit. Period.”
“I was a crack whore, Sunny. Let’s not pretend that the shit was glamorous. I sucked dicks on roofs for a few dollars. I did all kinds of shit just to stay high. And I don’t want that to be what everyone remembers about me. I’ve worked real hard to distance myself from that rep.”