White Lines II: Sunny: A Novel

by Tracy Brown

  Dale looked skeptical and Marisol cleared her throat. “Dorian, where were you planning to take Sunny tonight?”

  “I didn’t say Sunny was allowed to go anywhere tonight,” Dale interjected.

  “Dale—” Marisol attempted to regain control of the conversation but her husband wasn’t having it.

  “I’m her father, and it’s up to me to decide if she leaves this house.” Dale seemed angry.

  Dorian sat forward slightly. “I was planning to take her out to dinner. Why don’t we all go?”

  Both parents seemed surprised by this.

  “The whole family. My treat,” Dorian said. “That way, you can ask me all the questions you want and I can get to spend a little time in Sunny’s company.” He squeezed Sunny’s hand.

  Dorian noticed that her brothers hadn’t said a word. Instead they seemed to be sizing him up, analyzing his clothes, his posture, his speech. He was slightly uncomfortable under the scrutiny, but he kept his game face on.

  “That sounds very nice, Dorian,” Marisol said, eager to end the tense conversation. “Where would you like to eat?”

  Sunny was so grateful for her mother in that moment. Sunny had remained silent, but inside she felt that her father was ruining it for her. Her brothers, too, with their icy glares. She wanted to be Dorian’s girlfriend—to be on the arm of this handsome man who was bold enough to sit before her parents and tell the truth about his age, about his occupation. Sunny was turned on more than she ever had been by the little boys at her school and on her block.

  Reluctantly, her father and brothers agreed to Dorian’s dinner invitation, and they all piled into two cars—Sunny and her brothers riding in the family car, which their mother drove, while Dale rode shotgun in Dorian’s Mercedes. Sunny felt uneasy about the notion of her father and Dorian alone together with neither herself nor her mother to play referee, but she filed into her family’s Ford Escort without uttering a word.

  “He seems real nice,” Marisol observed. “I think your father is just being cautious, that’s all.”

  “He’s a fucking drug dealer,” nineteen-year-old Ronnie said. “And you think he seems nice?” Ronnie seemed disgusted.

  Reuben sat silent. At twenty-one years old, he was tempted to get in the drug game himself. Coming from a middle-class working family, he had never had the balls to actually do it. But seeing Dorian, just a year older than he was, driving the new S class and wearing a watch his father could never afford, Reuben was impressed. He didn’t say so, but he already admired the gumption of his sister’s new boyfriend.

  “Ronnie, watch your language,” Marisol chastised. She looked sidelong at Sunny. “Did you know that he sells drugs, Sunny?”

  Sunny looked at her mother and answered honestly. “No. But I like the fact that he told the truth when Daddy asked him. He could have lied. And he’s the one who insisted on telling you guys about us. I was scared that you and Daddy would disapprove, so I wanted to keep it a secret. Even now—him taking us all to dinner…” Sunny shrugged. “It seems like he has nothing to hide.”

  “Well, I don’t want you dating a drug dealer, Sunny. That’s not okay.” Marisol turned her eyes back to the road ahead.

  “He’s not like you think he is, though, Ma.” Sunny was convinced that Dorian was the kind of guy who could keep her interested. At the same time, he seemed so stable, so mature, and she liked that.

  “I just want you to remember that money isn’t everything.” Marisol stopped behind Dorian at a red light. Sunny was her only daughter, and to say that she adored her was an understatement. She could tell that Sunny really liked Dorian, and she prayed that her daughter was right about his good intentions.

  “What do you think they’re talking about?” Sunny asked as she stared at the Benz in front of them, at the two figures in the front seat clearly talking, and gesturing with their hands. Sunny wished that she could be a fly on the wall of Dorian’s car.

  Marisol shrugged.

  “Man shit,” Reuben chimed in. “They’re talking about man shit, and you two should mind your business.”

  Ronnie slapped his brother five, and Sunny turned around to face her brothers. As they participated in mutual appreciation of “man-code,” she looked at them in disgust, then rolled her eyes and faced front once again.

  They arrived at Peter Luger Steak House and parked in a spot not far from Dorian’s. Sunny nearly bolted out of the car and was quickly at Dorian’s side as he and her father exited his car.

  “Everything all right?” she asked.

  Dorian smiled at her. “Yes, Princess. Everything is all right.”

  Sunny looked at her father. Dale’s expression was hard to read. Realizing that his daughter was looking for a reaction, he smiled at her, his weathered but clean-shaven and handsome face brightening instantly. Despite the smile on his face, Sunny wondered what her father was thinking. Sunny never found out what her father and Dorian had discussed during that drive to the restaurant, but by the time they arrived Dale had a seemingly newfound respect for the young man who wanted to court his daughter. They laughed together over dinner, and even Marisol seemed surprised by the new camaraderie between her husband and Dorian.

  Ronnie, however, wasn’t so easily swayed. During dinner, he watched the way his brother Reuben looked on admiringly as Dorian smooth-talked his way into everyone’s good graces. Seeing his parents laughing at this guy’s jokes, his sister staring on as if Dorian was everything she ever dreamed of—it made Ronnie sick.

  By the end of the evening, Dorian had begun to chisel away at Sunny’s family’s tough exterior. Her parents found him to be honest, respectful, and mature. Reuben was in silent awe of him, and Sunny was clearly smitten. Ronnie kept his own dissatisfaction with Sunny’s choice to himself.

  Over the next several months, Dorian courted Sunny in the most chivalrous ways imaginable. Respecting her tender age, he never took her out alone. When she wanted to see Sarafina! on Broadway, he bought tickets for the entire family. If they went to the movies, the whole family went to the movies. He took them all to a Prince concert at Madison Square Garden, and impressed everybody with floor seats. Dorian was often invited to their house for dinner, and never complained about the lack of privacy he and Sunny received when they sat together in the living room afterward. Whatever reservations her parents once had about Sunny dating someone so much older than she disappeared after they watched him in action. Dorian conducted himself like a true gentleman. By the time her eighteenth birthday rolled around in June 1986, everyone had been won over. Even once-reluctant Ronnie acknowledged that he liked Dorian, though he still didn’t approve of the way he made his money. Dorian had showered the family with gifts—Craftsman tools for Dale, trips to the spa for Marisol, sneakers for Ronnie and Reuben, shopping sprees and countless trinkets for Sunny.

  On her eighteenth birthday—three days after Sunny’s high school graduation—Dale and Marisol allowed her to spend the night with Dorian for the first time. He pulled out all the stops—a carriage ride through Central Park, dinner at the Water Club, followed by a romantic evening in a suite at the famed Plaza hotel. Dorian made love to Sunny for the first time that night. It had been slow, tender, and romantic—a night Sunny would never forget. By the time they returned to her parents’ home two days later, it was to retrieve her most treasured belongings. From that day on, Sunny was by Dorian’s side, in his home, foremost in his life.

  In the years that followed, he had solidified his place in their family. When Dale got laid off from his sanitation job, Dorian paid off the house her parents owned, allowing the Cruzes some breathing room after years of being strangled by their mortgage. Sunny’s family adored the ground Dorian walked on. Ronnie eventually grew to cherish the status and power they enjoyed as a result of Sunny being Dorian’s lady.

  * * *

  It had all seemed so noble to Sunny before. It had felt like he was her knight in shining armor who had swept her off her feet and saved her from a life of
normalcy. Now Malcolm had made her question her perception of Dorian, and of her family. She wondered now if she had been sold to the highest bidder, and the thought made her feel dirty and used. The blues that had overtaken her intensified, and she felt like weeping. She wanted to get high again, to numb herself.

  She sat up, snatched up her sarong and grabbed her bag. “I’m going for a walk.”

  “Sunny, wait,” Malcolm called after her. But she ignored him and continued to storm off. He watched her for a few moments, and then gathered his things to go after her.

  21

  CUTTING EDGE

  Sunny didn’t bother to change clothes before heading out to find Miguel again. She rushed back to their hotel and got a taxi to take her to town. When she gave the driver the address, he looked at her strangely through the rearview mirror.

  “Miss … That part of town is very dangerous right now. There was a gun battle there two nights ago.”

  She thought of the incident the last time she’d gone to see Miguel, thought of the man that had been dragged in and beaten. For a fleeting moment she considered abandoning her plan. But the longing for cocaine was too great, her desire to rid herself of the thoughts running through her head too intense. She needed to get high.

  “I won’t be long,” she said. “Just a few minutes.”

  The driver seemed to think about it, then he nodded and stepped on the gas, though he still looked pensive. Sunny settled into the backseat and watched the scenery through the window as she tried desperately to quiet the voice in her head.

  Is Malcolm right? Has everybody who claimed to love me had an ulterior motive?

  Sunny thought about her parents, and how they had turned a blind eye as she left the safety of her family to start a life, fresh out of high school, with a drug dealer. She thought about her father’s initial reluctance and then his sudden change of heart. Had Dorian paid them off? Was there a price on her worth? She thought about Thanksgiving and how she had wondered if her mother was aware that she was getting high again; about the incident at Sean’s L.A. home, where a pink-clad groupie OD’d in her presence. Not one of her so-called loved ones had asked her point-blank if she was getting high again. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about it, but as she did so now she knew in her heart that none of them had confronted her out of fear that she would cut them off financially. Dorian had gotten a young, impressionable wifey in exchange for the financial security that he offered her family. And when he died they had bowed to her, because she held the keys to his fortune. She felt hurt, used, and angry—but though she was angry at her family for what she perceived as their manipulation of her, she was angrier still at Malcolm, for bringing all of these unwanted feelings to the forefront.

  She heard his voice now in her mind.

  “I feel a little sorry for you.”

  The thought of Ivy League Malcolm looking down on her infuriated her. She hated the notion of being pitied by him because her hard-knock life stood in such contrast to his charmed one. As the taxi pulled up in front of the bar, she wished with all her heart that she didn’t love him, because if she didn’t it would be much easier to walk away from him.

  “Miss,” the driver said, his voice audibly nervous. “Please be quick. Please.”

  Sunny nodded, thinking that this driver was a real pussy, and stepped from the car. She walked inside the bar and saw Miguel standing by the pool table. She was glad that she knew who he was this time so they could cut right to the chase.

  “Hola,” she greeted him. “Mas yeyo, por favor.”

  Miguel watched her approaching and smiled. He had regretted allowing her to slip out undetected the last time they met. He had been preoccupied with the snitch who had been brought in by his men. But he had noticed that Sunny seemed well appointed, had taken note of the diamonds that adorned her, the air of superiority she possessed. Having been in the business for years, he knew money when he saw it. And Sunny was money.

  “Mamí, I missed you,” he said. Miguel was beaming.

  “Missed me?” she asked, frowning. If she hadn’t flushed her stash down the toilet, she wouldn’t have had any reason to come back here. What she had bought the other day had been more than enough to hold her over until it was time to fly back to the U.S. Surely, he hadn’t expected to see her again.

  “Yes,” he said. “I’m glad you came back.” He had a smile that made Sunny’s skin crawl. “That was some good shit, right?”

  Sunny nodded. “Yeah. I need more. Half of what I got before.” She handed him a hundred-dollar bill.

  Miguel took the money, snapped his fingers, and one of his henchmen came over wearing a sneer. He undressed Sunny with his eyes as he handed a small satchel to his boss. Miguel dug around inside and pulled out a small bag of coke, handing it to Sunny.

  She frowned. The small quantity he’d given her was far less than what she’d paid for. “That’s not enough. I paid you for more than this.”

  Miguel’s smile dissolved into a sly smirk. He shrugged and waited for her next move. She had already given him the money, so there was nothing she could do. He figured it was high time that she learned that there’s no honor among thieves—especially not in Mexico.

  Sunny couldn’t believe this little bastard was robbing her. Just as she was about to launch into a tirade, she heard a familiar voice behind her.

  “Sunny,” Malcolm called out. “What’s going on?”

  She spun around and faced him, covertly dropping the tiny bag of coke into her purse. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. The look on her face was a medley of shock, anger and confusion.

  Malcolm’s was, too. He had followed her back to the hotel, running to catch up with her, but by the time he got near her taxi the driver had pulled away. He had jumped into another one and told that driver to follow the car in front of them. As they exited the touristy part of town and ventured into the seedy area in which they stood now, he had grown increasingly upset. What the fuck could Sunny be doing in this part of town?

  “No,” Malcolm said, shaking his head. “What are you doing here? You know these people?”

  Sunny looked around at the dingy bar and the dingier men surrounding her. “I came to have a drink,” she offered weakly.

  “Here?” Malcolm asked, incredulously. “You came all the way out here to have a drink when they serve drinks on the beach, or at the hotel bar, or—”

  “What are you, my father?” Sunny barked. “I don’t have to explain shit to you.” She shook her head, realizing that Miguel had won. There was no way she could press him for the rest of her drugs now that Malcolm was here. She was livid. “You know why I came here?”

  “No, I don’t,” Malcolm countered.

  “Cuz I feel at home here,” she lied. “Nobody’s feeling sorry for me here. I can be myself.”

  Malcolm sighed. He had known the moment those words left his mouth that she would take it the wrong way. “I didn’t mean that shit the way it sounded.”

  “Listen, mamí.” Miguel stood between them looking annoyed by their disagreement. “No lovers’ quarrels in here, okay? You gotta take that outside.”

  Sunny stormed out. She was done here anyway. She stepped outside and looked around for her taxi. But, to her dismay, her driver had left her there.

  “Shit!” she muttered under her breath.

  Malcolm looked around and noticed that his driver, too, had split. They stood together in front of the bar, stranded in the least desirable part of town.

  “Shit!” Sunny said again. She started walking down the dirt road in the direction they had come from. The sun had begun setting, and as it grew darker she wanted nothing more than to get away from this part of town. She would rather walk the miles back to the hotel than to stand there waiting for a ride to show up with condescending Malcolm.

  He trotted after her. “Sunny! Sunny! Where the fuck are you going?”

  “Away from you!”

  “Stop acting like a child, throwing temper tantr
ums and shit. Sunny!”

  She stopped in her tracks and whirled around to face him. “What?” she yelled. “What do you want from me?”

  He walked quickly over to where she was and stood face-to-face with her. “Why did you come out here?” he demanded. “To this side of town?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I already told you.” She glared at him. “I played the game for a while—living life in your world of live bands and ballroom dancing, wine tastings and helicopter rides, weekends in a small town and all that shit.”

  Her emphasis on the last word was so intense that Malcolm recoiled as if he’d been struck.

  “None of that is who I really am,” she continued. “I’m from Brooklyn, not some small town in Maryland. I’m comfortable in places like this—more comfortable than I will ever be in your world.”

  She ignored the crushed look on his face and focused on an old car puttering toward them on the dirt road. When the driver got close, he slowed down and rolled down his window.

  “You need a ride?” he asked in broken English. “Taxi?”

  “Yes!” Sunny exclaimed, climbing into the backseat. “I’m going to Punta Diamante. The Four Seasons.”

  Malcolm climbed into the backseat beside her and stared at her.

  “No problem,” the driver said, smiling warmly. “No problem.”

  As they drove, Malcolm kept staring at Sunny. “I thought you said you loved me.”

  She was silent. She did love him. But she didn’t love feeling inferior; hated having to question the motives of the people she had believed were on her side. Ever since Malcolm had made his comments, all she could think about was whether or not anyone had ever genuinely loved her. She realized that the only unconditional love she’d probably ever enjoyed was the love she got from her daughter.