White Lines III

by Tracy Brown

  He wasn’t the only one wondering.

  * * *

  Jada stuck the mysterious note inside her desk drawer and continued her nightly routine. She fixed dinner for Sheldon, and picked at the food on her own plate. She wasn’t hungry. Consumed instead by thoughts of who was taunting her, she was distracted all night. She wondered who it was and what they wanted from her after all this time. Sheldon was especially quiet tonight. After the things they’d all discussed during Sunny’s intervention, it seemed that he was lost in his thoughts. Jada always worried when he spent too much time thinking. So she lay awake for most of the night, unable to get her mind or her body to rest.

  * * *

  Zion heard the shower go off and the curtain pull back as Ava finished freshening up after a long day. She had arrived about a half hour ago, looking corporate in a navy blue dress and nude heels. It turned him on to see her that way. Ava was a beautiful, buttoned-up lawyer by day and a wildcat in his bed at night. To Zion, she reminded him of a naughty librarian, ready and eager to be spanked for her dirty deeds.

  She came into the bedroom wrapped in a towel, her makeup washed off. He thought she was beautiful.

  “Come here,” he said. “Drop the towel on the floor and come here.”

  Ava hesitated. Beautiful though she was, Ava had insecurities, the same as most women. Zion watched her think about it. She was different from Olivia in that regard. Olivia was a performer. She liked to be watched, seen, heard, adored. Olivia would have dropped that towel and sauntered over to him as seductively as a cat. But Ava was different. He liked it. She was shy, despite the fact that she was sexy as hell. Once she got warmed up, she was insatiable. But he liked the thrill of working her up to that.

  “Come here,” he demanded again.

  Ava took a deep breath and let the towel go. Beads of water dotted her naked skin, as she walked over to the bed where Zion lay. He watched her every move, and felt his manhood rise within his Hanes. She crawled into bed on top of him. The feeling of her skin against his own made Zion moan with pleasure as he kissed her. Ava sank her nails into the taut skin of his back, and held on for dear life.

  * * *

  Gillian extinguished the blunt she’d been smoking and sat up in bed, folding her legs Indian-style beneath her. Her Upper West Side townhouse was dead silent except for her breathing. The noise on the streets outside was the only other sound that filled her space. She sat there thinking about her father.

  Doug Nobles had been quite a man. He was old school. An original gangster. As his daughter, Gillian had been pampered, protected, and taught from an early age how to make power moves. His death had drawn a wedge between her and her brother Baron, who she still blamed for it. She wondered if Doug would be proud of the way that she had carried the family torch in his absence. She prayed that he would be.

  Doug had been particularly fond of Frankie. In fact, he had practically raised him and taught him everything he knew. In the days after his death, Frankie had guided Gillian into the game, teaching her the ins and outs of the family business. The two of them had been a team at first, and Gillian knew that her father would have approved. But Frankie had let his feelings get in the way of the business. He couldn’t accept the fact that Gillian was not willing to be with him anymore. Unlike his ex-wife, Camille, Gillian didn’t cry, beg, or even appear to lose sleep over her breakup with Frankie. Instead, she had forged ahead and taken the helm of the business with ease. Because he couldn’t let go of his romantic hopes for the two of them, Gillian had ceased to rely on his advice. She trusted her gut instead, and the years of wisdom she had gained at her father’s knee. She was loved by her crew, respected by her business associates, and feared because of the power she held.

  Still, she wished her father was alive. Doug would tell her if she was missing something, if she was making any wrong decisions. Without him or Frankie to depend on, Gillian had to trust only her instincts. And something felt out of sync. She was uneasy for some reason. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but whatever it was, it was keeping her up at night.

  * * *

  Sunny turned on the faucet, in order to drown out the sound of her snorting. She held one nostril and sucked up the crystalized powder with the other. In one long sniff, she took a big hit. She wiggled her nose around, sniffled a bit, and then bent forward and did it again. Another long and exaggerated snort. She wanted her last time to be a memorable one. Standing upright, she felt it all hit her at once. She shook her head vigorously, taken over by the intense sensation. The whole room looked like a kaleidoscope. Colors swirled in and out, and she heard music. It sounded at once far away and in stereo surround sound. Pulsing, throbbing, uptempo music. She hadn’t been this high in a long time.

  Sunny found her own reflection in the mirror, and gripped the pedestal sink for support. Staring at her reflection, she was amazed by what she saw. All sorts of colors shot out of her face. Blues and greens, red, orange, sparkles and shimmering lights. It was a neon light show taking place across her face, and techno music audible only to her blared loudly. She began to sweat profusely, and beads of sweat dripped from her forehead. Her heartbeat quickened to a rapid pace. She hadn’t gotten high for a long time, and she had been fiending. This was some good shit. She took another hit. She wanted to go out with a bang. Afterward, she looked at her reflection in the mirror once again.

  The music slowly faded, and the colors became less vibrant. While staring at herself, she was aware of a figure standing behind her. She leaned in closer to the mirror to get a better look at the reflection. The vision shocked her, and she squeezed her eyes closed in order to refocus. She suddenly felt dizzy. When she opened her eyes again, the vision was clearer, closer, standing directly behind her. It was Dorian.

  Her eyes filled with tears as she stared at his reflection in the mirror. She was afraid that he’d disappear, so she dared not turn around, dared not even to blink. She held his gaze for long and tender moments, sweat still falling from her face. Standing behind her, he watched her through despondent eyes. “Baby, why? Why didn’t you listen to me?”

  His voice caused the tears to spill forth. She shook her head in dismay.

  “You messed up this time,” he said, sadly. “You got more chances than you were supposed to get.”

  Sunny felt herself laughing despite the tears falling from her eyes. A tingling sensation began in her toes and her fingertips. It felt funny. “What, baby?” she asked, smiling at him through the mirror. “What are you saying?” She dared not turn around, afraid that she might discover that she was hallucinating. If this was an illusion, it was one that she wanted to hold onto desperately.

  Dorian wasn’t smiling. “No more chances, Sunny. This is it.”

  Sunny’s smile faded.

  “This is it.” Dorian’s image began to fade, and Sunny frantically reached out toward the mirror. As he faded altogether, she spun around to see if he was there, and found that his image had disappeared.

  She tried to cry out to him, but her voice got caught in her throat. Her chest tightened, and her breathing became labored. Her heart was galloping in her chest, and pain racked her so violently that she braced herself against the wall. She willed herself to calm down, but the room felt suddenly smaller. Her lungs weren’t filling with air. Sunny lunged for the locked door, but fell thrashing to the floor with her hands clutching her heart. It felt as if someone was sitting on her chest, and she wanted desperately to call for help, but could not find her voice. Dorian’s voice called to her as everything faded to black. “Sunny!” he cried. “Why didn’t you listen to me?”

  13

  FALLING

  Zion lay sprawled out across his king-size bed. Ava was spread out across his chest, her long hair hanging loosely around her. He ran his fingers through it as they lay there, spent from their lovemaking. It was three o’clock in the morning, and they had been going at it for hours. Ava was smiling. Zion had taken his time. Slowly and passionately he had made love
to her. Now, his fingers working her scalp, she closed her eyes and smiled contently as they lay together.

  “I think you’re beautiful, Ava.” His voice was throaty and sexy.

  Ava stroked his stomach. “Thank you. I think you are, too.” She wished she could pause this moment. The time she spent with Zion was the sweetest thing. Her thoughts drifted to Olivia. She felt a pang of guilt as she lay with her friend’s man. She reminded herself that she and Olivia were only friendly because of Jada. Thinking of Olivia as Jada’s friend somehow made it easier for Ava to admit that she was falling for Zion.

  “What are we doing?” She asked the question before she gave herself a chance to rethink it.

  Zion shifted slightly. “What do you mean?”

  “What are we doing?” she asked again. “What is this? Is it just sex? Are we together? Are we friends with benefits?”

  Zion sighed. “Nah, it’s more than that. For me, it’s more.”

  Ava turned to face him. “For me, too. But what about Olivia?”

  Zion shook his head. “It’s over with us. I saw her earlier and she’s just … we’re not meant to be together anymore.”

  Ava was glad to hear that, but still skeptical. “You still love her?”

  Zion looked at her. He decided not to lie. “I’ll probably always love Olivia. But she’s not the same anymore. The spark went out. So it’s time for me to move on.”

  Ava thought about it. “Is that what this is? Moving on?”

  Zion smiled, his sexy white teeth gleaming in the darkness. “This is more than that,” he said. “This is—”

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  “Open up!”

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  They looked at each other in stunned silence.

  “Police! Open up!”

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  Zion’s shut his eyes in dismay. This was it. Ava jumped up out of bed and grabbed his T-shirt laying nearby. She hurriedly put on her panties, as he jumped into his sweatpants.

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  “Police!”

  Adiva came running into the room, and Zion held out his arm to her. Just then, the sound of the battering ram crashing into the door rattled them.

  “Come here!” Zion yelled. Adiva ran to his side. Zion and Ava exchanged one last glance filled with terror and unspoken fear before the room was flooded with DEA agents and the sounds of walkie-talkies blaring.

  “Get on the ground! Get on the ground!”

  The police got them all on the floor with their arms spread above their heads, including Adiva. Ava tried not to cry as she was handcuffed. Zion was in a similar position on the other side of the room. A female agent came and took Adiva out of the room altogether. They could hear the apartment being ransacked while one of the agents explained that they had a search warrant.

  “Can we see it?” Ava asked. As an attorney, she wanted to ensure that this was a legal search.

  One agent roughly snatched her upright by her handcuffs and shoved the papers in her face. “See?”

  “Do you have any illegal substances, guns, or anything of the sort in here?” another agent asked Zion. “It’s better for you to tell us now before we find it.”

  Zion wanted to spit in his face. There was plenty of illegal stuff in there. But if they thought that he would make it easy for them by telling them where to look, they were fools. He ignored the question and exercised his right to remain silent.

  It wasn’t long before an agent called out that she had found two firearms in the bedroom, and a bag of pills in a kitchen cabinet.

  One agent smiled at the two of them. “You’re under arrest, guys.”

  Ava cried softly. In no time flat, her dreams had turned into a terrible nightmare.

  * * *

  At four o’clock in the morning, Jada awoke to her cell phone ringing. She yawned and looked at the screen. The number was unfamiliar, but she answered it anyway.

  Ava’s crying voice filled her ear. “Jada, I’m under arrest.”

  “What?” Jada sat up in bed.

  “The cops came to Zion’s house while I was there, and they arrested both of us.”

  “Zion?” Jada looked around the room for signs that she might be having another nightmare. She pinched herself. “What were you doing at Zion’s place?”

  “I’ll explain that later,” Ava said, impatiently. “I need you to come to court for me. They tell me I’m going to be arraigned and have a bail hearing. Please come and get me out of here, Jada.”

  “Calm down, okay. I’ll be there. Don’t worry.” Jada was already out of bed, pacing the floor. “Ava?”

  “Yes?”

  “Be strong and don’t tell them nothing.”

  “I know that.” Ava knew that Jada was more streetwise than she was. But both of them had grown up in Brooklyn, and had learned early on what to do and what not to say if you were ever in police custody. Ava had never imagined herself in this predicament. But she knew how to handle herself.

  “I love you,” Jada said. “I’ll be in court today. Don’t cry.”

  “Okay,” Ava said. “I love you, too.” She hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and was returned to her cell.

  Jada rushed into her bathroom to get ready. Everything was beginning to crumble.

  * * *

  Marisol awoke to a six a.m. phone call from Reuben’s wife, Bridget. She was frantic. Reuben had been arrested, and the cops were still combing through their Long Island home in search of evidence. Bridget was distraught, and Marisol was, too. This was the last thing their family needed. She told Dale the news, and climbed out of bed in search of Sunny.

  Marisol instantly knew that something was terribly wrong when she found Sunny’s room empty, her bed unslept in. She rushed down the hall to the guest bedroom where Mercedes slept. Along the way, she prayed frantically that Sunny had slept with Mercedes rather than alone in her own room. But she knew in her heart that wasn’t the case. Even before she opened Mercedes’ door and found her sleeping alone, Marisol knew that this was bad. She shut the door, and ran past Dale down the stairs to the kitchen. Dale went into the living room. Both of them began calling out Sunny’s name. Dale checked for their car keys, and found that all of them were accounted for. He saw Sunny’s purse laying on the table in the foyer and he wondered where she could be. It didn’t seem that she had left the house. His heart jumped when he heard Marisol cry out from down the hall.

  Dale ran to where Marisol stood before the locked guest bathroom door. They banged on it together.

  “Sunny! Sunny, open the door!”

  After a few seconds, Dale told his wife to stand back, and he kicked at the door several times. Finally, with all of the force he could muster, he kicked the door until it gave way. Rushing inside, they found Sunny lying facedown on the floor. Her eyes were open, and her hands were folded beneath her body.

  Marisol cried out in desperation, while Dale turned his daughter’s body over and checked for her pulse. Marisol sobbed loudly as she ran quickly to get her phone to call an ambulance. She didn’t see Mercedes come downstairs to see what all the commotion was.

  Mercedes had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. She walked into the bathroom where she could hear her grandfather weeping openly. She stepped inside and saw him sitting on the floor as he cradled Sunny’s lifeless body in his arms. She knew right away that her mother was gone; that this time Sunny had done it for good. A bag of powder sat on the edge of the sink, and Mercedes noticed it. Rage and fury took over her, and she hated Sunny so much in that moment. She took the scene in silently. Her mother was dead. The reality hit her hard. There was no turning back.

  Slowly, Mercedes walked over to where Dale sat with Sunny in his arms. She stared down at her mother and etched the image in her mind of Sunny lying there with her eyes eerily wide open and somehow shut forever. Sunny’s nose was covered in dried blood. Despite the macabre sight, Mercedes saw her mother’s beauty even then. Even in death, to Mercedes she l
ooked like an angel. She knelt down and touched Sunny’s hand. It was cold and clammy. She held it up to her face, and let her tears fall like rain.

  * * *

  Camille was asleep when her phone rang. It was just past six in the morning and Eli never usually called this early. His shift started at five a.m. and, as usual, he had slipped out of bed soundlessly and left her sleeping, undisturbed. She answered the phone, her voice heavy with sleep.

  “Hey, baby.”

  “Camille,” he said. “Wake up. I have to tell you some news.”

  Camille propped herself up on her elbow and rubbed her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Frankie,” he said. “He’s been arrested. Him and some of his friends.”

  Camille was wide awake now. “What? When? What happened?”

  “I can’t get into all that now, but he’s due in court this morning. I’ll tell you what I know when I see you.”

  “But, Eli … he’s arrested?”

  Eli tried not to be bothered by the genuine concern he heard in Camille’s voice. After all, Camille and Frankie had been married for years and shared a child together. “Yeah. Listen, baby. I gotta go. I’ll call you as soon as I can say more.”

  “Okay,” Camille said. “I love you.”

  She hung up the phone, jumped up out of bed, and called her sister. To her surprise, Misa answered right away.

  “Oh my God,” Misa said. “Baron just got arrested, too. Miss Celia called to tell me that the feds raided her house in New Jersey and took Baron. She says they tore the place apart while waving around their search warrant.”

  Misa and Baron were entering a phase of their relationship that was unfamiliar to either of them. She believed that he was getting out of the game. During their intimate moments, he had suggested that they move away from New York, have some babies, and settle down. She had been considering it, wondering if she and Shane could survive without the warmth and comfort of her mother and sister. But now this.