4. Sunnie
Ihad a yearning in my soul that grew with each minute that passed. A yearning so deep and gut-wrenching that its embodiment often left me speechless and absentminded. It was a yearning for love. An agape type of love. A love that fed calcium to my bones. Unclogged rubbish from my arteries. A love stronger than a Korean vitamin C serum. A love that birthed new butterflies each time my lover entered a room.
Love.
I wanted it.
Craved it.
“Good evening, Ms. Austin. You look stunning, as always.” Hector, the bellhop of Simon’s condominium, greeted me.
“Thank you, Hector. Have a great night.” Not stopping my stride, I headed towards the elevators and hit PH34.
Tonight I planned to order my favorite junk food and binge watch shows on Netflix that I haven’t had a chance to watch in weeks. Maybe even watch funny videos if Hillary was home. But, no. The man I’m supposed to be in a serious relationship with, antic car collector Simon Davis, wanted me to come over for date night. Dinner and a movie. We never did the romance thing. At least not serious anyway.
Simon had a motive being attached to me. Clout. Access to people he wouldn’t have because prior to me he was a nobody and still is. To the world, he’s known as Sunnie’s boy toy but he thinks that’s code for love of my life. So far from the truth. We had sex, lots of sex. We traveled, and he created these romantic aesthetic spaces for video and picture purposes. I never complained because this was a mutual exchange. I wanted his connect to ShaKedra Henderson, and he had that through her husband whom he sold one of his classic Chevy’s to.
ShaKedra is known globally for her luxury chain of nail salons. I’m talking the Taj Mahal of spas. She didn’t use the basic polishes in her shop. Nope. All top of the line, and I wanted her to go in business with me. I tried doing it the right way. Reaching out to her assistant and such, but that didn’t work. So, I used Simon to open that door. Fashion Week in New York had just kicked off and created the perfect opportunity since I had been blessed to be one of the top five nail liquor and enhancements being worn by all models all week long. Not just on the runway but at parties, restaurants, etc. I made sure my polish and nails were on everyone, from the taxi driver to the mail clerk and nurses. I pushed my brand in her face so much that she ended up reaching out to me two days before Fashion Week was over. That was two years ago and we’ve been coasting in this weird space of convenience more than anything else.
We weren’t in love but on social media; I painted the perfect picture that we were. That he took me on expensive trips when really they were brand trips that he accompanied me on. He sent me roses and gifts but had a camera in my face to capture the perfect reaction and make women lust after him for being the ‘perfect boyfriend’.
I had love for Simon, but I wasn’t in love with him.
Stepping off the elevator, a trail of candles and a carpet of pink roses greeted me. I knew I should’ve stayed home. I wasn’t in the mood for acting for the camera. Making sure the heel of my boots dug deep into each flower, I marched down to this apartment and sighed, seeing more roses. I won’t lie. The man had all the perfect romantic ideas to make any girl swoon and pine over him. I just wasn’t that girl anymore.
“Simon, what’s going on? I thought we were supposed to be keeping it light with a movie and dinner.” Kicking these stupid flowers as I walked further into his place, I was breaking my neck trying to find the speaker responsible for the nauseating slow jams playing.“Simon.” I knew he heard me calling his name.
“Ugh.” Slamming my purse on the dining table, I walked to his bedroom and there he was on the balcony with more candles, a man playing the saxophone, a camera crew, and large light up letters spelling out Will You Marry Me?
Ain’t no way.
Ain’t no way in the hell he was doing this.
There, standing cheesing hard and tight, stood Simon Davis. The man the whole world thought I was madly in love with and wanted to spend my life with. Procreate with and live old with. No. Hell no. This wasn’t happening. We’ve never talked marriage. Never talked about our future outside of whatever moment we were in.
“Baby, come here.” Simon was a very handsome man. The typical California dream boy. Beautiful, sun-kissed bronze skin. Gold head of curly coils. Perfect white teeth and a body that made me blush and drool more times than I cared to admit.
To any woman crushing from the screen of their phone, he was the guy you wanted to bring home to mama. In real life, he was a narcissist and egotistical.
“No, Simon.”
The saxophonist hit a hick upon hearing my response and the cameraman looked like he wanted to stop before this got even more awkward. “Sunnie.” He cleared his throat, gesturing them to continue being a part of this circus. “Babe, there’s no need to be nervous.”
I hated the word babe. It made me cringe. “I’m not nervous, Simon. I’m annoyed. Why are you doing this? We are nowhere near entering the stage of marriage. We barely even know each other like that.”
Surprised at my outburst, he looked behind him and chuckled nervously. “I know this is out of the blue but we are ready for this next step.” He tried to reach for my hands but I stepped back.
“How is this the next step? If you know me enough to want marriage, then what college did I graduate from? Where do I love to vacation? What’s my favorite holiday? Better yet what’s my favorite home cooked meal?” I hadn’t realized I was yelling until the defining silence shocked us all.
“We can…”
I grew more annoyed that he didn’t have one answer to any of the questions that I asked. Annoyed that he didn’t know I was an actual human being outside of the facade I fed people every day.
He didn’t love me.
He loved the idea and image of me.
The value my name added to his life.
“I’m leaving.” Turning on the balls of my heels, I marched right out in search of my purse.
“Sunnie, please wait.”
“No, Simon. I’m tired of doing this.” I waved a hand between us. “I’m tired of putting on this act. I’m just tired. Let’s end this amicably, okay?”
Scratching his ear, I was worried he’d channel his inner lover boy Drake era and start crying, but he surprised me by shrugging. “Yeah, you’re right. Um, can I be the one who announces we broke up? I promise to do it tastefully.”
Disgusted.
“Fine. Do what you want.” I had enough and needed to leave. This night couldn’t get any worse than this shit show.
“Have a good night, Ms. Austin.” Hector flagged a cab down for me.
“You too.” This night called for alcohol and comfort food.
I had the cab drop me off two blocks from my apartment so I could grab a bunch of tacos and wine from my favorite bodega. I called Hillary to see if she wanted anything in particular, but her phone went straight to voicemail. On my walk back home, I called Ezekiel to tell him about my night and was met with another voicemail.
“Ugh.” I wanted to throw my phone at the ground.
Why wasn’t anyone answering their phone?
In the elevator up to my place, my phone started vibrating like crazy. I opened Instagram and wanted to fight air. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Simon wasted no time making up the perfect post. A picture of the stomped on roses and him holding the ring box with a sad caption. Never thought my heart could break this bad. Two years of giving my love away to being rejected. I guess some careers are worth more than a happily ever after with the man who’d given you the stars and the moon.
Oh, he was good. Really damn good. The best pathological liar and wordsmith I’ve ever seen.
Asshole
That’s the best you could do? Really?
Simon called me three times before I blocked him. I could only imagine the headlines from the blogs. He’s such an asshole. I said make it good but not villainize me.
Stepping into our apartment, I sighed hearing Hillary’s favorite episode of 90210 playing. “Girl. Hil, do I have a story to tell you.” I dropped our food and my purse on the table. Peeled off my coat, heading towards her room. “Within the last hour, I went from relationship goals to proposed to, to allegedly dumped for the world to see. When I tell you niggas ain’t shit, I mean they ain’t shit. And why haven’t you…” I pushed open her door, and the image wrecked me to my core. I released a blood churning scream, “Hillary, no.”