Chapter 11 #4
Shannon and I have been in each other’s lives for so many years. Why shouldn’t she be the mother of my child?”
“It isn’t just Shannon’s background,” she replied. “There is something about her that I don’t quite trust. I understand that
you two are a ‘brand,’ or whatever it is that your generation calls it. But I want you to find someone who loves you for you,
not what you can do for them.”
“I’m just trying to survive, Mama. Ever since Shannon publicly forgave me, it’s opened up a lot of new opportunities for me!
This morning I got a sponsorship deal to promote a sunblock brand on my Instagram. It isn’t a fortune, but it’s the first
honest money I’ve made in a long time. Just be happy for me, please.”
Hyacinth’s face lit up, genuinely impressed. “That’s very savvy of you, Isaac. You never used to do deals like that.”
Sunbern smiled, blushing a bit at this rare maternal praise. “Well, the sunblock was my idea, but the deal was done by Lo.”
Just as quickly, Hyacinth’s smile vanished. “Lo? You mean your baby cousin Lola?”
“Yeah, she’s helping manage Shannon’s and my career! She’s been booking us appearances and promotions, and they’re even discussing
a book deal! Can you imagine, me writing a book?”
“Oh, I see . . .” Hyacinth said, smiling shakily as she nodded as encouragingly as she could muster. “Isn’t that something? How nice. And this whole baby thing, it wouldn’t happen to have been her suggestion, would it?”
Sunbern cocked his head, thinking. “I mean, she was sitting with Shannon and me when we first started talking about it. Come
to think of it, she did say it would be great for our socials. And that we could partner with baby brands! There are so many,
right? I mean, there’s formula, diapers, onesies, YouTube content . . .”
Sunbern prattled on, listing all the infantile possibilities ahead of him. But sipping on her sage tea, Hyacinth was full
of anxious wonderment.
How, she wondered, is George’s younger girl, Lola, involved with the sudden reappearance of that boba-wielding bimbo Shannon
Shoo, as well as this completely left-field talk about a baby for Isaac—a second baby that would theoretically run parallel
to his cousin Wayward’s own test tube attempt at the Sunfang heir?
Somehow, in just a week’s time, there were two curveball threats to her control of the Sunfang Trust. And one of them could
be fathered by her own unsuspecting son.
Hyacinth was not a Sherlockian deducer like her older sister Iris, nor was she a Machiavellian operator like her eldest sister,
Roses. But what she did possess was a preternatural sense of danger, keenly trained by the traumas in her life. As the test
dummy of her sisters’ machinations from birth, Hyacinth was rarely able to decipher the plots around her, but like the canary
in the coal mine, she could nevertheless detect their presence, like poisonous gases in the air.
But also like the unlucky canary, Hyacinth often fell victim to these plots before she could elude them. Whereas Roses was
the obelisk and Iris the sphinx, their little sister Hyacinth was Cleopatra, a doomed beauty constantly stuck in the middle
of their power struggles.
She looked over at her son, his golden face full of newfound hope, and remembered what a sweet little boy he had been, back when they lived with Big Boss Sun in San Marino.
She had failed him so many times before in the face of danger—failed him in preserving his father, Pascal, failed him in keeping him out of a life of sin, and failed him in protecting his place in her family.
This time she would not fail. After all, SANTI had taught her to consummate her Love with her Fear, and she was going to be Fearless.
“. . . strollers, rockers, organic baby powders, nonorganic baby powders, pop-up picture books—” Sunbern was still listing
his future empire.
“Isaac,” she interrupted him. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I do need to give Shannon a chance, especially if she might become
the mother of your child. How about I spend some one-on-one time with her? We’ve never had the chance.”
As an overjoyed Sunbern scooped her into a huge hug, Hyacinth already had a full itinerary planned for her and Shannon. Shannon
Shoo was an unevolved creature in need of mindful enlightenment but perhaps, somewhere buried deep within her, there might
be a woman worthy of Big Boss Sun’s favored grandchild.
And if not, well, it would all be part of the Bigger Process.
Holding her Isaac protectively, Hyacinth stared out at the ocean blue and pictured Shannon in red.
“I hope you’re ready, Eve,” she murmured.
Jamaal Golightly was dreaming about the Arctic Circle when his doorbell rang. He opened one eye warily, hoping whoever it
was would go away, and pulled his blankets over his head. For a middle school teacher used to getting up before dawn, sleeping
in on the weekends was a luxury that he refused to compromise.
There was a lovely pause. Drowsily rejoicing, Jamaal returned to the Northern Lights.
The doorbell rang again, this time an impatient double push. Jamaal groaned in defeat, sitting up and stretching out his naked
body, the blood rushing back to his long muscles. Smacking his lips and scratching the curly hairs on his chest, he grabbed
his bathrobe from its hook on the door.
“Coming!” he called out as the doorbell rang yet again. Now he was getting worried. He bounded across the room.
When he opened the door, there stood someone he never expected to ever see again—someone he had not seen since two Christmases
ago, when he had been invited to her home as Wayward’s plus-one. Indeed, Jamaal might have been less stunned to see Santa
Claus standing there at the doorstep of his tiny studio apartment in West Hollywood.
“Oh, snap!” was all he could manage.
Roses Sun took off her sunglasses and smiled warmly at him.
“It’s been a long time, Jamaal. May I come in?”