White Lines III (29 page)

Maury sat back and looked at Jada. “The fact of the matter is that this person has gone to great lengths to get your attention. The bomb at Marquis' door, the note in the mailbox, his visit today. It all seems very well thought out, very deadly. With his threatening the children, it's even worse really. It means he's capable of anything. I would take this whole thing seriously.”

Born's brow was twisted in knots. “So what do we do?”

Maury took a deep breath. “He says you have a week. A million dollars is a lot of money.”

Born shook his head. “So we pay him off and then what? He's gonna keep asking for more and this shit will never stop.”

Maury nodded. “That's a possibility,” he allowed. “Or he could keep his word and disappear, never to be heard from again. There's really no way to tell what will happen.”

Jada was frowning, too. “So you think we should take our chances and give him the money?”

Maury shrugged his shoulders. “I'm just saying that it's an option. The other option is to go to the police.”

“But he said not to do that,” Jada reminded them.

Born waved his hand dismissively. “He ain't calling the shots,” he asserted. “But for my own reasons, I'm not feeling the idea of getting the cops involved.”

“Why not?” Maury pressed.

Born looked at Jada and wished that he could erase her past forever. “Jada had a hard time getting custody of Sheldon. Then, with Sheldon's recent accident…” Born didn't want to call it what it was—a suicide attempt. “I just don't want the police to get in contact with social services and open up a whole new case.”

Jada felt her heart melt a little. Here they were rehashing her days as a crack addict and lamenting the fact that some old connect had come back to haunt them. And Born was thinking about her, about her son, and putting them first. She loved him more in that moment than she ever had before.

Maury nodded. “If you don't involve the police, you have two options left. You can pay the guy and hope that he goes away. Or you can figure out who he is and track him down, take matters into your own hands.” Maury threw his hands up as if he didn't care which of the options Born chose. “As your attorney, obviously, I have to advise you to go to the police. But the ball is in your court. Your call.”

Born felt conflicted. He would do anything to protect Jada and their children. But he wasn't about to pay a million dollars to some spooky stranger, and then sit around and hope that he kept his word and went away.

Sensing Born's dilemma, Maury leaned forward and looked him in the eye. “Listen, you don't have to make a decision here and now. Sleep on it. Take the week that he gave you and weigh your options. You have a lot to deal with already. You're injured. Your friend's funeral is tomorrow.” Maury shook his head. He felt sorry for them both. Looking at Jada, she seemed just as lost as Born. “Try to put this out of your mind for now. One thing at a time.”

They both nodded, knowing that Maury's advice was sound. Jada listened as the men discussed the details of Sunny's funeral, which was being held at the legendary Frank E. Campbell Funeral Home on Madison Avenue. Known for its opulent and detailed services, the venue was perfect for the final gathering in Sunny's honor. Jada still hadn't come to grips with the loss of her friend. Tomorrow would be tough.

“Listen,” Maury said as they stood to leave. “Try to get some rest. You're gonna need it.”

Jada smiled weakly and nodded as she followed Born out. Easier said than done.

 

17

FAREWELL

Mercedes sat in the front of the room, flanked by her grandparents. She stared straight ahead at her mother's casket, her gaze unwavering. Despite the fact that there were scores of people in attendance, she had never felt more alone. She was aware that friends and family were milling about, speaking in hushed tones to her grandparents as they offered their condolences. She was also aware that every one of the people in the room had taken the time to stare at her, to search her face for signs of what she was feeling, how she was holding up. Mercedes felt like she was in a fishbowl being gawked at by a room full of awestruck spectators. Part of her wanted to run and escape the scrutiny. But she was transfixed by the presence of her mother's body only a few feet away from where she sat.

Sunny looked like an angel. Mercedes knew with certainty that her mother was dead. After all, she had been there when Sunny's lifeless body was discovered; had sat watching in a daze as they carried her out in a body bag. Yet she couldn't help thinking that Sunny looked like she was enjoying a peaceful sleep. Lying there in her gold casket, her head resting atop plush white velvet fabric, Sunny's face was set in the most serene expression. Tears slid down Mercedes' face as she wept silently, wishing that her mother's eyes would flutter open, and that all of this would be some terrible misunderstanding. She couldn't accept that this was their final good-bye.

Jada sat two rows behind the family. She was watching Mercedes, wondering what she was thinking and feeling. Mercedes had inherited Sunny's ability to mask her emotions. It was impossible to tell whether she was holding up well or if she was falling apart on the inside. Sensing her concern, Born reached over and took Jada's hand in his own.

“You okay?” he asked.

Jada looked at him and offered a faint smile. She shrugged, then shook her head sadly.

Born understood, and squeezed her hand reassuringly. His heart broke for her. Sunny had been Jada's best friend for close to twenty years. The loss of her had broken Jada. Several times, he'd caught her staring off into space, lost in thoughts that were too painful for her to discuss. At other moments, she sat with tears pooling in her eyes, too choked up to give voice to what she was going through. Born comforted her as best he could, aware that their problem with the mystery man who was terrorizing them only added fuel to the fire. She dabbed at her eyes and he watched her, wishing all the while that he could take away her pain.

A woman approached the podium and spoke into the microphone.

“We're going to begin the service now,” she said. “Can everyone please take your seats and mute all electronic devices?”

Jada kept her eyes glued to Mercedes as the wake ended and the funeral portion of the program began. Reuben had been released on bail with an electronic monitoring ankle bracelet to track his movements. While everyone else, including Sunny's parents, talked among themselves in hushed tones and prepared for the main event, Mercedes continued to stare at her mother's coffin in silence. She hadn't spoken a word to anyone all morning.

“I'm worried about her,” Jada whispered to Born. “She's not taking this well.”

Born frowned and looked at Jada questioningly. “Seems like she's doing alright,” he said. “She's just tough like her mother, that's all.”

Jada shook her head. “No,” she said. “That's the problem. Sunny wasn't nearly as tough as she thought she was.”

Born looked at Mercedes and put himself in her shoes. He thought about how he'd reacted to his father's death years ago. Born had been unemotional on the surface, but inside he was a mess. And he had been a grown man by the time his pops had passed away. Mercedes was barely a teenager. Sadly, he understood where Jada was coming from.

The service began with a musical prelude. A woman with the most beautiful voice Jada had ever heard sang a heartbreaking rendition of “Amazing Grace.” Her velvety voice was full of the most poignant mixture of purity and pain. It brought tears to the eyes of everyone in the room. By the time the songstress took her seat, even the officiating minister had to collect himself.

Reverend Gibson was the assistant pastor at Jada's church. Sunny's family wasn't very religious and had no church affiliations. Jada had arranged for Reverend Gibson to officiate, eager to help to ease the family's burdens in any way that she could. He addressed Sunny's family, offering consoling words and reminding them that God heard even their faintest cries and would comfort them in their grief. He read Psalm 23, slowly and deliberately. Mercedes listened intently, imagining her mother lying down in green pastures, strolling beside still waters, at peace. The thought of that did little to comfort her. She wasn't content with the idea of her mother in heaven. She wanted her right there on earth, with her. Anything else just wouldn't do.

Next, Reverend Gibson called upon Sunny's brother, Ronnie, to read Sunny's obituary. Ronnie seemed to be warring with himself as he approached the podium. On one hand, he stood tall and strong, his hands gripping the funeral program firmly. But in contrast, he repeatedly dabbed at his eyes, his tears spilling forth nonstop. Ronnie struggled to find his voice, unable to control its wavering under the weight of his emotions. He looked over at his beautiful sister lying serenely in the gilded coffin, and choked back a sob.

Words of reassurance echoed through the crowd as the attendees encouraged him to take his time. After a few moments, Ronnie cleared his throat. He stole one last long glance at his sister's body, took a deep breath, and began.

“Sunny Victoria Cruz was born on May 29, 1973. She was the youngest of three children born to our parents Marisol and Dale.” Ronnie stopped reading, and set the program down on the podium. He wanted to speak from his heart, not read what amounted to a prepackaged press release. He looked out into the crowd and saw so many familiar faces. Family members, Sunny's friends and neighbors, all the people who had known her well. Ronnie smiled as he thought of his sister's infectious laughter and her fiery personality. “Sunny was the life of the party from the moment she took her first breath,” he said.

The crowd audibly concurred, shouting “Amen” amid laughter and smiles of agreement.

“She was a wonderful daughter, sister, mother, and friend. She had a heart of gold. But, she was tough. If you crossed Sunny, you better be ready for war.”

The crowd was hyping Ronnie up now.

“She didn't take anybody's shit. I never knew her to be afraid of anything or anybody. But she had a heart of gold. Many of us in this room can remember times that we went to her for help and she made it all right. She was beautiful inside and out.” Ronnie took a moment to wipe his nose before continuing. “She always seemed like she was in complete control. But underneath that tough skin…” Ronnie looked to the sky for strength. “My sister was struggling. She had a burden that none of us could help her carry.”

Ronnie broke down in sobs, unable to continue. Many of the mourners were crying audibly as well, Jada among them. Their failure to save Sunny as she had done for so many of them had rendered them inconsolable. Born, too, felt himself getting choked up with emotion. Sunny and Dorian had raised a generation of hustlers, many of them sleeping on Sunny's couch or in her guest room over the years when they had no place else to go. Knowing that she had died alone and afraid under such preventable circumstances was too much to bear.

Reuben walked to the front of the room and hugged his brother in consolation. He patted Ronnie on the back and then stepped to the mic himself. His voice was wracked with emotion as he spoke.

“The last time I saw my sister,” he began. His voice trailed off, and once again the crowd shouted encouragement until he continued. “I was so mad at her for slipping up again. I told her that she was in denial about her problem, that she needed help.” He looked out at all of the familiar faces in the crowd. “I told her that if she didn't get the help she needed that I had nothing else to say to her.”

Murmurs of pity could be heard throughout the room. Reuben seemed to steel himself before speaking again. “I thought I was giving her tough love. I told myself that she would get her act together so that she wouldn't disappoint me. So that she wouldn't disappoint our whole family. Especially her daughter.” Reuben looked at Mercedes then. She stared back at him with rapt attention. “I left that night thinking that I would see her again the next day or the day after that.” He shook his head, looking down at his hands. “But I never saw her again until today.” He looked out into the crowd. “And now it's too late. I can never tell her the things I had planned to tell her the next time we got together. That I love her more than anybody else in this world. That I'm so proud of the woman she turned out to be, even with all of her struggles. That she was a great mother, who raised a really great kid all by herself. That I'm sorry. Sorry for not noticing that she was in trouble, that she needed help. Sorry for worrying about my own best interests and what I could get out of her lifestyle for my own selfish reasons. Sorry for not protecting her. For not realizing that she really didn't have everything under control like she wanted everybody to believe she did.”

Jada wept softly, her head resting on Born's shoulder. Reuben was saying so much of what she, too, was feeling.

Reuben glanced over at his sister's body, and shook his head in disbelief. “Now she's gone. And I will never get to tell her those things.” He turned back to the crowd and scanned the room. He saw Olivia, Jada, Born, Lamin, Gillian, his parents, scores of distant relatives, a handful of celebrities, and some unknown individuals he assumed were media affiliated. Finally, he set his sights on Mercedes. He found her eyes, and held her gaze.

“I try to think about the fact that my sister is at peace now. She doesn't have to worry about fighting her addiction anymore. She doesn't have to think about all of the people who she disappointed. No more cameras in her face, no more talk show hosts trying to raise their ratings by bashing her. No more pain. Still, it hurts me to know that she had to leave her beautiful daughter behind.”

Mercedes' chin quivered as she fought the urge to break down. She and Sunny had been inseparable for as long as she could remember. She had no idea how she could go on without her.