by Tracy Brown
And he had done just that. Sunny had agreed to let him take her out and on their very first date he took her on a helicopter ride around the New York City skyline. He had set the bar very high in more ways than one.
Sunny’s trip down memory lane was interrupted briefly when she reached the passenger pickup point and scanned the crowd until she found a driver holding a sign that read SUNNY CRUZ. She greeted the man and he took her bag, led her to a waiting town car and helped her into it. He placed her bag in the trunk and then climbed behind the wheel.
“Hello, Ms. Cruz,” the Latino driver said, smiling like he was in a toothpaste ad. “My name is Oscar. You’re going to the Beverly Wilshire, is that right?”
Sunny didn’t smile back. She didn’t want to seem overly friendly and encourage his conversation. She hated talkative drivers. It was one of the reasons she valued Raul. He knew when to shut up and drive.
“Yes,” she said, flatly. She took out her cell phone and dialed Sean’s number.
“Hello,” he answered, sounding like he had a mouthful of food.
“Hello. It’s Sunny. Is this a bad time?”
“Nah, not at all!” She could hear what sounded like paper being crunched up in the background. “I was just stuffing my face with a Big Mac.”
Sunny laughed. “You know you ain’t supposed to be eating that shit. Just cuz you’re a free agent now, don’t get too comfortable.”
Sean laughed, too. “Well my secret is safe with you, right?”
His voice gave her chills. Sunny smirked. “Yeah. You already know.”
“Are you in L.A. yet?”
“Yup,” she announced, peering out the window at the palm trees lining the freeway—a far cry from New York in the wintertime. “Just landed.”
“You’re kidding!” Sunny could hear his smile through the phone. “How soon before you come and see me?”
Sunny thought back to the last time she’d seen Sean. Their affair had ended rather suddenly about two years ago when Sunny had caught him in bed with his best friend’s wife. But before that unfortunate incident the two of them had been tabloid darlings, photographed together at all the high-profile events that would make them into overnight sensations. They had been great friends, and Sunny missed that about Sean more than anything. Still, she didn’t regret leaving him. What she didn’t miss was all the drama, the distrust, and the bitches he couldn’t stop fucking.
It had been a bad season for Sean and the Giants that year, and he found himself a free agent, something he had never anticipated. The two of them had remained friends, however, and these days Sean was living in L.A. as he searched for a new deal. He was eager to see Sunny again, to hopefully rekindle what they’d started not so long ago.
“I have meetings first,” she explained. “I’m gonna go to the hotel and freshen up and then go talk business.”
“And after that…? Once business is wrapped up, you gonna have time for pleasure?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “What you got in mind?” Now she was the one smiling.
“Let me surprise you,” he said. “What time do you think you’ll be ready?”
Sunny glanced at her rose-gold Rolex. “Let’s aim for eight o’clock tonight,” she suggested.
“Eight it is.”
Twenty minutes later she had checked into her hotel suite and was enjoying a good, hot shower. She was meeting with Kaleidoscope Films, and with Malcolm and Ava as well. Today they would outline their vision for a movie based on her life and she would decide whether it was worth her while. Her heart raced at the mere thought of it all.
She sat in her suite, wrapped in a luxurious white bathrobe, and ate some fruit that had been brought up for her, courtesy of Kaleidoscope Films. She could get used to living this lavishly on someone else’s dime for a change. She applied her makeup and put on a custom-fitted DVF dress and simple Chanel heels and strolled through the hotel lobby like the star she was born to be. She ducked into the waiting town car that Kaleidoscope had sent for her and she was on her way. Sunny’s eyes danced as she looked around L.A. and pictured herself as a star in her own right. She had always played the supporting role. She had been Dorian’s wife, Sean Hardy’s girlfriend, the face of many ad campaigns. But she had never just been Sunny Cruz, a star all by herself. She was starting to feel that Jada’s refusal to get on board might be a blessing in disguise. At last it was her time to shine.
She stepped out of the car and Malcolm was waiting for her curbside in front of Kaleidoscope’s office building. He greeted her with a smile.
“Where’s Ava?” Sunny asked.
Malcolm frowned slightly. “She stayed in New York to help Jada with the wedding plans.”
Sunny’s heart sank. Was Jada making plans for her big day without her?
Malcolm saw the expression on her face change and did some damage control. “I think Ava said something about … she was sick with the flu, and since her sister wasn’t making the trip … Ava decided to stay behind, too.” He cleared his throat, fumbling for the right words. “I thought you knew she wasn’t coming.”
“If she’s sick with the flu, why did you say they were planning the wedding?”
Malcolm was a seasoned lawyer, but still he squirmed under the scrutiny of Sunny’s piercing gaze. “She might have mentioned them hanging out and discussing the wedding plans, but I’m not sure. I could be mistaken.”
Sunny shrugged it off, annoyed by Malcolm’s mannerisms, his goody two shoes aura, and by Ava’s absence. “Okay, well, what happens now?”
Malcolm couldn’t help noticing her killer curves in the dress she was wearing. Sunny seemed unaware of how lovely she was. “We go inside and meet with these guys, hear what they have to say. And then you discuss it with Ava and—”
“What if I don’t want to have Ava act as my attorney anymore? What if I want to hire you?” Sunny asked.
Malcolm was caught off guard. “I … I … umm…” He looked in her eyes and was captivated. He would love to represent her, if only to have an excuse to spend more time with her. “Well … yeah … I guess that would be all right,” he managed. “But we should talk about that a little further, just to make sure that I can work you into my caseload…”
Sunny nodded, and walked into the office building with Malcolm in hot pursuit. He was used to dealing with all kinds of polarizing figures in his role as a corporate attorney. He’d appeared before snarling judges, gone up against vicious opposing counsel, and still he found himself flustered by this sexy spitfire who strutted before him. They were greeted at reception by a bubbly blonde wearing a dainty white eyelet dress.
“Good afternoon,” Blondie practically sang. “How are you doing today?”
“I’m here to see Abe Childs.” Sunny handed Blondie her driver’s license and noticed her smile deflate somewhat when she got a load of Sunny’s cold, matter-of-fact demeanor. Sunny was definitely not the California girl the receptionist was accustomed to greeting each day. This seemingly icy woman who stood before her seemed in no rush to make friends.
“Sure,” Blondie said, curtly, dialing her boss. “There’s a … Sunny Cruz here to see you.” If Sunny could have read the woman’s mind, she would have learned she thought the name was corny.
“He’ll be right with you,” Blondie said. “You can have a seat right over there.”
Malcolm and Sunny sat down and she glanced at him sidelong. He was handsome, but since he was a fancy corporate lawyer, she assumed that he was bourgeois.
“So is L.A. like your hometown or something?” Sunny asked. She was bored and just making conversation. She didn’t really care what his background was. What she wanted was a Percocet to mellow out.
Malcolm shook his head. “Not at all. In fact, I hated living out here and I jumped at the chance to transfer to the New York office. People here in L.A. can be real superficial, phony. I prefer the realness of New York over this scene any day.”
Sunny nodded, agreeing. “I don’t like phony peop
le, either, Malcolm. So we should get along just fine.” She turned to face him as if conducting an interview. “So you grew up in New York, then?”
He shook his head again. “No. I grew up in Rockville, Maryland. I started practicing law in D.C., and then moved to L.A. for the past three years. New York is a real nice change of pace.”
Sunny was intrigued. “Rockville, Maryland,” she repeated. “Sounds like Little House on the Prairie.”
Malcolm laughed. “In a way, I guess it was. We grew up around some farms, there were a lot of deer, foxes, rabbits … it was country-style living for sure.” He smiled, recalling his affluent upbringing. “How about you?” he asked. “You grew up in Brooklyn, is that right?”
Sunny nodded, chuckled a little. “Yeah, and I didn’t grow up seeing Bambi and Thumper every day, either!”
Malcolm was laughing when a tall white man with brown hair, a bushy beard and glasses emerged from one of the offices. He wore a crumpled white shirt that was unbuttoned at the neck, a pair of olive-colored slacks and worn black shoes. He smiled at Sunny and Malcolm, and Malcolm stood up to greet the man.
“Abe,” Malcolm said. “Good to see you again.”
Sunny watched the two men shake hands as if they hadn’t seen each other in far too long, and then the white man turned to her. “You must be Sunny,” he said. “You’re even more beautiful in person.”
Sunny smiled, rose to her feet. “Thank you,” she said. “And you must be Mr. Childs. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she lied.
“Please, call me Abe,” he said, taking her by the hand and leading them into his office. There were two other men in suits in there along with a new blonde, only this one wore a business suit. Abe introduced them all briefly, explaining that he was the company’s vice president, that the two men were producers and the lady was the head of their marketing department. Sunny forgot everyone’s name but Abe’s and shook hands, looking around at all the plaques, movie posters and photos lining the walls as she took her seat. After a few moments of light banter between Abe and Malcolm about the weather and other unimportant things, they got down to business.
Abe smiled at Sunny as his eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “So, Sunny,” he said, “Malcolm here has told us a little about you, about your story. But we’d like to get to hear it from your mouth, so to speak. What made your story a New York Times bestseller?”
Sunny sat with her legs crossed and her hands folded in her lap. “Well, I’m curious to hear what you know so far. What have you shared with them, Malcolm?”
Malcolm nodded, and addressed the producers. “I work with a woman by the name of Ava Ford, who is one of the partners at our firm. Ava represented Sunny and her sister in their book deal with Monarch Publishing and she watched as the book climbed to the top of the bestsellers’ list. One afternoon while on a partner’s retreat she shared with me her sister’s story; how her sister, Jada, and Jada’s best friend—Sunny, here—were on the arms of two of New York’s most notorious drug dealers during their reign in the 1990s. It sounded glamorous until Ava explained that Jada and Sunny had become coke addicts in the midst of it all.” Malcolm paused, realizing that he had been speaking of Sunny as if she weren’t present. “Am I right so far?” he asked.
Sunny nodded, amused by the passion with which he told her story. “You’re right. But the real story is the fact that we survived all the pain and the setbacks and turned our lives around.”
Abe was nodding vigorously. “That would be our fairy-tale ending,” he said, excitedly. “That these two ghetto superstars got their happily ever after.”
Sunny wasn’t so sure she liked the sound of those words as they came out of Abe’s mouth. She squirmed a little in her seat.
Abe noticed.
“I meant ‘ghetto’ in the best way. Perhaps I should have said ‘urban,’ but you get where I’m going with this, right? Two unlikely heroines who overcome the paralyzing power of addiction only to find their happily ever after.”
Sunny nodded, though she didn’t fully agree. She wouldn’t describe the feeling of emptiness and often loneliness that plagued her daily existence as “happily ever after.”
“But we’ve heard that there may be a problem,” Miss Marketing was saying. “Your coauthor has opted out of the movie proposal, is that correct? Jada Ford isn’t on board with this?”
Sunny looked at Malcolm and then at Miss Marketing. “Jada has chosen to fade into the background now that the smoke has cleared,” Sunny explained. “She’s getting married and she has to consider her family’s feelings about revealing too much of her past.”
“And you, Ms. Cruz? We would ask that you be very candid about your past. You don’t have any reservations about airing your dirty laundry in public?”
Sunny smirked. “Everybody has dirty laundry,” she said. “At the end of the day, only God can judge me. I’m not scared of the truth.”
Abe was smiling from ear to ear. “I like how you think.”
“So, how much are we talking?” Sunny asked, causing Malcolm to cringe slightly.
Abe smiled, liking Sunny’s no-nonsense demeanor. “I think we can make you a sizable offer to tell us your story—provided that you’re willing to be as candid as you are today.”
Sunny smiled, nodded. That was more than she had hoped for. “Candid is my middle name,” she said.
“We’ll meet tomorrow and talk more concrete figures, timelines and all that. But in the meantime, why don’t you tell us a little about yourself. We’ve heard from Malcolm here, but how would you describe you? What might we be surprised to know about you?”
She almost blurted that she longed to get high again. Instead, she thought about it for a moment before replying. “I’m not as sweet as I seem.”
* * *
When the meeting was over, Malcolm escorted Sunny through the building lobby and out the front door. “Can I give you a ride to your hotel?” he asked. “I rented a car for the next couple of days.”
Abe had outlined an itinerary for the next two days that included a breakfast meeting the following morning with the board of directors, followed by an afternoon of tennis at his opulent Beverly Hills home, and finally an invitation to a charity ball benefiting the Kaleidoscope Foundation for Disadvantaged Youth. Sunny was looking forward to it all.
She nodded. “Sure. I’m staying at the Four Seasons, Beverly Wilshire.” He led her to a white Range Rover and opened the door for her as she climbed inside.
Once behind the wheel, Malcolm undid his tie and tossed it into the backseat. He started the car and pulled out of the lot, glancing at Sunny as she buckled her seat belt. “So what did you think of Abe?”
She retouched her lip gloss in the visor mirror. “He’s cool. Seems down to earth.”
Malcolm nodded. “He is. I did some work with their company a few years ago and he was always a straight shooter. Nice guy.”
Silence enveloped them and Sunny stared out the window, bored.
“So you have plans for tonight?” Malcolm asked. “I could make reservations at a nice … there’s this nice, um, restaurant that my friend owns on Rodeo … if you want to join me for dinner.”
Sunny kept staring out the window, feeling sorry for Malcolm as he stumbled over himself trying to ask her out. She looked at him and smiled sympathetically. “I have plans already,” she said. “But thanks.”
He tried not to look as crushed as he was. “Okay. Wow. You move fast. Got a hot date already?”
Sunny laughed, detecting the twinge of sarcasm in his words. “I’m meeting an old friend for drinks,” she said, not sure why she was explaining herself to her new attorney.
Malcolm looked skeptical. “An old male or an old female friend?”
Sunny frowned, though she was still smiling. “Male.”
“Aha!”
“Aha, what? Just cuz he’s a man … what does that mean?”
Malcolm shrugged, his expression innocent. “You say he’s just your friend. But I bet h
e thinks tonight you’re going on a date.”
Sunny thought about that and had to laugh at his thinking he had her all figured out. “Well, regardless of what he thinks it is, I’m just looking forward to catching up with an old friend.” Sunny fidgeted in her seat, uncomfortable with his line of questioning.
Beyoncé was on the radio singing her heart out. They rode in silence for a few moments.
Malcolm chuckled to himself. “Well, I hope you enjoy your night with your friend.”
Sunny was getting sick of his smug laughter. She decided that he probably thought he was better than her. She had grown up in Brooklyn, snorted cocaine, and been immersed in the drug trade. Meanwhile, he had grown up in Wonderland.
“And what about you?” Sunny wore her own smug expression now.
“What about me?” he asked, confused.
“Who will you be spending your night with? Probably Miss Marketing back there. Or maybe the bubbly receptionist? They seem like ‘your type,’” Sunny said, using her fingers to make air quotes. “Blond, blue-eyed…”
“You got me all wrong,” he said, shaking his head. “Just because I have a law degree doesn’t mean that I only like white women.”
“When was the last time you dated a sister?” Sunny asked, curious.
Malcolm didn’t answer right away, causing Sunny to laugh as if his silence proved her point. “That long ago, huh?”
He shook his head. “No. I just had my divorce finalized three months ago. My wife got caught up in the Matrix once we moved to L.A. and things went downhill from there. So I haven’t dated anybody in a while—white, black or otherwise.” He glanced at Sunny. “But my wife was black, for the record.” He winked at her and turned his attention back to the road. He turned up the air-conditioning. “And I don’t have a type.”
Sunny nodded, accepting his correction. “Well, I sure do,” she said.
Malcolm grinned. “Really?” he asked, intrigued. “What is your type?”