Act II Silver Linings·Illumination

“Seven Lyons”

Fiction. Based on a True Rooftop Party at 66" 11 minute read

“My love is like footsteps in the snow, baby.

I’ll follow you everywhere you go, baby.

The pain as light has come to wake you

but you will never realize

that I inspire the dreams that guide you, baby.”

Angelie sweeps through the 101, 60, 71, going eighty miles smooth on the highway in the limelight of the LA nightlife.

She was at the rooftop party of Sixty Six, at the heart of Beverly Hills, hosted by MTS. It was a James Bond themed party. By the time Mysty arrived, Angelie was already in deep conversation with the French-Italian booking agent from Sweden, dreaming of possibilities with the AR technology, storytelling, and a jet-setting lifestyle doing business in Europe.

He talked of Ibiza, Sweden, and German parties.

“The electronic music scene is dying. There aren’t as many brands willing to sponsor our parties anymore. I’m here for hip hop talent.”

“I can connect you,” she said to the man who looks like Johnny Depp.

“What I want in return is an opportunity to produce the journal for major live event producers.”

“There are only two big event producers in Europa,” he says, “But I only have the connection to get you the middle man.”

“But here, you can connect with Insomniac,” he continued, “If you broker Insomniac, you will have your in.”

Angelie realized she does have a connection with Insomniac. But does she have the ovaries to make the call and get to the point of possibility with the decision-maker?


She can.

“Get me in front of who you think will get me to the person who I really need to talk to,” she said to him.

113 km

Is her speed when she drives on the highway. Johnny Depp texts her later complimenting her website.

Little does he know that she’s tired of sitting in front of a computer for five hours a day, sometimes longer. Any day where she has to sit in front of a screen for that long is a depressing day for her.

That’s why she’s leaving to the mountains for 3 months to snowboard in a few weeks. She’s secured the lodge and the season’s pass, determined to snowboard her way through her fears, pain and frustration and write a book out of it.

God, how come I’m not already married to Branson?

God, how come I’m not already funded with this non profit?

God, how come my family and I are still not intimate yet?

Those unanswered questions frustrates her, yet she knows the answers to all these questions.

It all comes down to her mastery with patience, humility, and kindness.

Be patient with Branson. 

Be humble with your non profit. 

Be kind to your family.

God answers.

Angelie had declared to the universe a few days ago that she’s going to write her story and find her zen on the white slopes of Whistler.

“You’re a half a world away
But in my mind I whisper every single word you say.
And before you sleep at night
You pray to me, your lucky star, your singing satellite.”

The black man with the bald head was checking Angelie out. He smiled. His skin smooth as the curves of Lindor chocolates and a thick French Nigerian accent. She is attracted to him, but she turned away.

“Excuse me, I’m heading to the ladies’ room,” she told Chocolate Frenchman. Johnny Depp and French Chocolate discuss French things while Angelie followed Mysty into the Ladies’ Room.

Powder Room

“I wrote him a letter. Poured my heart out. Last chance,” she gave her friend the update.

“You said his grandmother is Christian right?” Mysty asked.

“Yeah,” Angelie replied.

“He’ll come back,” she said. “They always come home.”

Angelie smiled with a tinge of suspicion. She sensed that Mysty also was highly attracted to B. Angelie couldn’t blame Mysty though; she’s been talking him up this entire time, of course, Mysty’s going to feel the same type of pull that B has on Angelie, and Angelie’s natural defense system goes up. She wanted Mysty to pray that they get together, but that would be selfish. Let Branson be Branson and whoever he is in love with let him be in love with and whoever he choses to date accept him for his choice. She remembered Musiqlove had told her that even if they had gotten back together, Angelie still needed to get right with herself, so perhaps this is the test. Can she allow and learn to let go?

Another reason she’s heading to Canada.

“God is good,” a tall beautiful nubian woman named Aysha declared to both of them, perhaps overhearing their conversation. The first thing Angelie noticed was Aysha’s full lips, her tall and voluptuous body, and her dark chocolate skin–she has the real cacao. She had began bonding with Mysty about which church to link up to, while Angelie bonded with her friend Sheila about having her link up with her at Whistler.

“The church in Inglewood is good,” Aysha told Mysty.

“Oh really? I got to check it out,” Mysty replied.

“We got to manifest our love lives!” Sheila said.

“God is good. He delivers on all his promises,” Aysha declared again.

“Amen!” the Mysty and Angelie both affirmed.

“Let God bless me with some blasian babies!” Angelie declared.

Aysha high fives Angelie.

“Cocoa butter, water, and conditioner is all you need to take care of her hair,” Aysha told Angelie. “The curls? Let her have it naturally. Don’t put any of that chemical stuff. It messes with the roots and the brain.” She gives Angelie a serious look.

“Got it, be proud of the Afro-curly hair,” Angelie smiled. She loved that she’s already talking about having kids with Branson’s babies even whilst he’s ghost.

Live life and be as if God has already answered your prayers. Angelie heard Holy Spirit whisper to her.

The Third Spirit

On their way back to their respective cars, Mysty said, “Meeting Aysha was enough to energize my spirits.”

Route 66

This highway is a breeze to Angelie. She loves driving down the highway with electronic music on Soundcloud. Her usual playlist.

Seven Lions did a remix for Oceanlab’s Satellite, and for some reason this song has tuned into her spiritual frequency tonight and her skin begins to electrify. With the window down, the LA breeze combs through her smooth peach skin stimulating the excitement of Halloween. It’s 1:13.

October 31st.

When the bass drops 36 seconds into the song, she feels the weight of the bass, and all her hopes are vibrating at the root chakra, as she is at the dip of a steep mountain.

The fears creep in.

You’re going to be broke. 

You can’t continue sustaining yourself like this. 

He wants a successful hot chick, and you’re just bootstrapping poor and pathetic. 

Angelie is in spiritual warfare.

Sell out. C’mon. It’s easy.

She prays:

She is at the wave’s trough, and the crest seems ocean’s apart.

She needs a miracle to keep surfing.

She leans not on her own understanding, but continues riding the waves of this matrix.

“I follow the winds that bring the cold, baby,
I light a fire in your soul, baby.
The lightest touch of feathers falling
My love may be invisible
But I inspire the dreams that guide you, baby”

“God, I pray that Branson is written in the Book of Life,” Angelie declares. “Even if it means that I will have to let him go…

“You’re a half a world away
But in my mind I whisper every single word you say.”

…but God, please make that the last resort.”

She knows he’s thinking about her tonight, beneath the starry city LA lights, where.storms of angels, both heavenly and fallen dance in sync, waltzing to the heartbreak of two star crossed lovers.

She is ready to say goodbye. She feels the sands in the hourglass sinking like quicksand and she accepts fate for what fate is, while still hoping.

Bond Girl

A man awakens whilst pretending to be asleep so he may blend in with his environment.

He wears his James Bond outfit 364 days of the year.

Except on Halloween.

On Halloween, he gives himself permission to be himself.

On October 31st, he wears himself in public.

A plain white T-shirt and blue jeans, disguised as a Halloween costume.

His authentic self captured Angelie’s heart.

Plain as vanilla ice cream,

with black sprinkles,

and a brown cone,

simple, smooth, and sweet.

“And before you sleep at night
You pray to me, your lucky star, your singing satellite.”

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