Body By Night

by Day, Zuri

  D’Andra turned over in a “talk to the butt” gesture.

  Cassandra was momentarily stunned. D’Andra never said no to her. “Bitch,” she mumbled, as she walked out of the house.

  “Yeah,” D’Andra whispered with a smile on her face. But this bitch is in the house without your kids. Standing up for herself felt good. She could get used to it.

  Try as she could to get back to sleep, after an hour sleep still eluded her. D’Andra got up and went over to the computer to log on to her e-mail account. Along with the usual spam, a couple forwards from Elaine and a promotion from Bally, was an e-mail from Peoplesearch.com. D’Andra’s heartbeat quickened as she clicked on the link:

  Improve the chances for your search success by upgrading now to our premium package, only $99 for 30 days of unlimited access to the information you need. With the premium package, you get not only the name and address of that long lost friend or relative, but you also get…

  D’Andra deleted the mail without finishing it. She hadn’t done anything with the information she’d already been given. She tried to convince herself it was because of the stress of the job compounded with her new workout routine, but she knew she was lying. It was fear, plain and simple, behind the fact that the printout containing information on Orlando Dobbs was still stashed away in a zippered compartment of her purse.

  She reached down for the purse beside her and pulled out the paper. Staring at it for one long moment, she reached for the phone. Before she could think or change her mind, she punched in the area code and phone number for the Chicago address. A somewhat dry female voice was on the answering service, instructing the callers to leave their name and number at the sound of the tone. D’Andra left a brief message and then dialed the Florida listing.

  “Hello?” a gruff voice answered.

  “Uh, hello. May I speak to a Orlando Dobbs?”

  “Who’s calling?”

  “My name is D’Andra Smalls.” D’Andra gave her last name figuring that if the person on the other end was indeed her father, it would mean something.

  There was a short pause, during which D’Andra didn’t breathe.

  “This is Orlando,” the voice said finally.

  “Orlando Dobbs?”

  “Is this some bill collector or something because if it is, I don’t owe you nothing!” The man grumbled unintelligibly, then belched.

  D’Andra hurried on, afraid he’d hang up. “No, not at all. I’m sorry that I’m nervous. You see…”

  Her voice trailed off. Suddenly D’Andra was second-guessing her actions. Did she have the right to waltz into someone’s life and potentially turn his world upside down? Was she sure she wanted to know the man who was her father? Then she remembered the very legitimate, valid reasons for finding this side of her family. She took a deep breath and pressed on.

  “My mother’s name is Mary Smalls and she dated Orlando Dobbs about thirty years ago. I believe that man is my father and I’m trying to find him.”

  There was a pause on the other end. “Mary who?” he asked when he finally spoke.

  “Mary Smalls.”

  “She live here in Jacksonville?”

  “No, she lives in Los Angeles. That’s where they dated, and where I was born and raised.”

  The sigh on the other end was audible. “Well, no, then that ain’t me. My name is Orlando, and I dated a woman named Mary long time ago. But the only time I was in California was when I served in the Navy and was stationed in San Diego. That was almost forty years ago, and I ain’t been back since.”

  “Okay then. Well, thank you for your time.”

  The gruff voice softened unexpectedly. “No problem. I hope you find your daddy.”

  The call to New Jersey met with yet a different result.

  “I’m looking for an Orlando Dobbs? My name is D’Andra Smalls, and he was friends with my mother, Mary.”

  “What the hell I know about who Orlando was friends with?” the testy woman on the other line exclaimed. “Only thing one of his friends can do for me is pay me back the five hundred dollars I spent to get his ass out of jail two months ago. Drinking and driving, his second D.U.I. I told his ass I wasn’t gonna keep bailing him out. The only reason I did it this time was because I needed my car fixed. It might take him a fifth of Tanqueray and a case of Budweiser but that man sure can fix a car. Now who you say you was?”

  D’Andra quickly relayed her story.

  “Well, now, I ain’t trying to burst yo bubble but if’n Orlando is your daddy, the best thing he did was leave you alone, child. His ass ain’t been nothin’ but trouble since I met him and we been together almost twenty years. Got four kids here he don’t half see. He find out somebody in California asking about him, he liable to show up on your doorstep with a mouth full of lies and a wallet that ain’t got shit, trying to con you out of what you got.”

  It was a long shot, but D’Andra gave her contact information anyway, along with her mother’s name and the time frame when they would have dated. The woman had her wait while she got a pen. D’Andra only hoped she actually wrote something down. If this no good, Tanqueray-drinking, car-fixing jailbird was her father, at least she’d know.

  That piece of work done, D’Andra clicked on a few apartment sites and printed out a couple possibilities within her budget. She hadn’t broached the subject of moving with her mother yet, and hoped she would be a bit more encouraging than she was about her exercising, or finding her dad. Not that her mother’s opinion would change anything. The wheels of change had started rolling downhill, and D’Andra, though a little scared and a lot confused, was enjoying the ride.

  8

  D’Andra entered Bally Fitness, and after only two weeks felt more the member and less the stranger. The familiar sounds of the gym greeted her and the sparse evening crowd made her smile. D’Andra felt she worked out better without an audience.

  “Hey, D’Andra.”

  “Hey, Marc.”

  “Got a hot date with the treadmill?”

  D’Andra laughed. “Something like that.”

  “Well, enjoy.”

  D’Andra swiped her card and went through the turnstile, wondering if Marc lived at the gym. It seemed that every time she’d come so far, no matter what day or time, he was there. She’d also noted that even though she saw him flirting with every other skirt in the building, there was a wedding ring on his finger. Looks like dogs come in all colors, shapes and sizes, she thought as she walked to the women’s dressing room to secure her purse and gym bag in a locker. Moments later she was on the treadmill, doing a medium-paced walk to Jill Scott’s “Living My Life Like It’s Golden.”

  D’Andra kept up this pace for the next ten minutes and was pleased to note that her breathing and stamina had improved. She patted her face, took a swig of water and set the timer for five more minutes as India Arie reminded her that she was not her hair or her skin but the soul that lived within.

  After the treadmill, D’Andra felt energetic enough to try the Stairmaster. She walked over to the row of machines and boldly stepped on one, but couldn’t figure out how to set the timer or adjust the incline. Marc strolled over, more than happy to help out.

  “You’re looking good there, D’Andra,” he said with a wink. “Those workouts with Night must be paying off.”

  D’Andra was taken aback by the comment. “How do you know about my workouts with Night?”

  “Night’s my partner, didn’t you know? We go way back. He told me he was working with you, whipping that body into shape.”

  “He said that, huh?”

  “Well, maybe not those words exactly but…you lucked out getting Night for a trainer. He’s one of the best.”

  D’Andra couldn’t argue that point and still regretted having argued with Night. He was taking valuable time out of what was probably a busy schedule to train her for free. And what had she done? Acted like she had no “brought-upsy”, no manners at all. It would have served her right had Night cancelled the
sessions. Sure, she may have continued losing weight. But she knew it was happening much faster thanks to Night’s workout regimen, not to mention his encouragement and personal attention. At Night’s suggestion, she hadn’t stepped on her scales since the day after she bought them, but she was pretty sure she’d lost weight. She didn’t know how much, but her nurse’s smock seemed to fit a bit looser. Night suggested she weigh herself sparingly, focus more on inches lessened than pounds removed.

  “Hey, what’s going on here, Marc? You trying to take my client?”

  D’Andra’s heart did a little flip flop at the sound of Night’s voice. What was he doing here on a Saturday night?

  “Hey, man, we must have talked you up,” Marc said as he playfully punched Night in the arm.

  “All good I hope.”

  “It was. D’Andra was just going on and on about what a great trainer you were.”

  D’Andra’s head whipped around at Marc’s comment. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Oh,” Marc continued, knowing he was starting something. “You’re saying he’s a bad trainer?”

  D’Andra smiled. “No, I didn’t say that either.”

  “Well, doll, what did you say?”

  “Nothing. Marc was saying what a great personal trainer you are and I hadn’t had time to respond. But if I had,” she continued in what despite her best intentions was precariously close to a flirt. “I would have agreed with him.”

  Night tried to hide the pride evoked by her flattery behind a modest shrug. “I try,” was his simple reply.

  “I told her she’d feel like a new person with her body in shape.”

  A group of people walked up to the front desk. “Be right back,” Marc said, and was gone.

  “Is Marc your best friend?” D’Andra asked.

  “One of them,” Night responded. “I’d trust him with my life. Now let’s get you going on this Stairmaster.”

  In less than five minutes, D’Andra stopped the machine. Her thighs were burning. “I’m not ready for this yet,” she said.

  To her surprise, Night simply nodded. “Probably take another month or so of building up your muscles. Once you do, this is a great device for toning.”

  He stopped his machine and climbed down just as Marc walked back over.

  “What do you say we do some weights, hit the sauna, and by then you’ll be off, right, Marc?”

  “Yeah, man, but I got a hot date tonight.”

  D’Andra couldn’t stop from rolling her eyes.

  “Aw, see, there you go; a typical female thinking the worst about men. The date is with my wife. It’s her birthday and we’re taking a red-eye flight to Vegas.”

  Marc had called her out correctly. “You’re married?”

  Marc held up the ring D’Andra had previously spotted.

  “I saw the ring. But the way you flirt…I couldn’t tell.”

  “Flirting is cool as long as you look but don’t touch.”

  “If you say so,” D’Andra responded.

  “I say so. But you guys go on and have a good time.”

  Night turned to D’Andra. “So where are we going?”

  “Actually, I’d better get home. Lots to do tomorrow,” she added in response to his raised eyebrow.

  Going out in a group would have been one thing but going out solo with Night felt too much like a date; even though it would be a spontaneous, casual one. Knowing how physically attracted she was to him didn’t make that sound like such a good idea. Better to keep this friendship on familiar footing, in a gym or around workout equipment.

  “It’s just as well,” Night said, watching Marc head back to the front desk. “I promised my mom I’d go to church with her tomorrow. Might as well make it an early night.”

  Since this is exactly what D’Andra wanted, it made no sense that his comment was disappointing. But it was. She wanted to be with him; she didn’t want to be with him. She longed for romance, but didn’t want to admit it. She wanted a man but knew she didn’t need the hassle right now. It’s just the way it was.

  “I didn’t take you for the church-going type,” she said.

  “I’m not really,” Night answered. He turned and walked toward the weights. D’Andra followed.

  “But they’re having some type of family day tomorrow. Mom makes me feel guilty if I don’t go, especially since I didn’t go on Christmas, about the only other time I walk among saints.”

  “And all the other time who are you walking around…devils?” D’Andra asked playfully.

  “No,” Night replied as he wriggled his brows. “Dolls.”

  D’Andra and Night worked out with the weights and then she went home, more hungry than ever for something that wasn’t on a restaurant menu.

  9

  “Aunt DeeDee, come on, you promised,” Tonia said, shaking her aunt’s shoulder for emphasis. “Today is Sunday and you promised we’d go to the beach!”

  “Promised,” Antoine echoed. He was the baby of their family, even if it was only by seven minutes.

  “You said if we were quiet until ten o’clock you’d take us,” Kayla said, pointing to the clock.

  “Look!” she added triumphantly. It was ten o’clock exactly.

  “Get off me you little rugrats,” D’Andra said, trying to push them off her bed the way she was trying to push last night’s dream, another one with Night, out of her mind.

  “Are you gonna fix us pancakes, Aunt DeeDee?”

  “Uh-uh, I want waffles, with bacon!”

  “Are we still going to the beach, Aunt DeeDee?”

  “Ooh, yeah, the beach, please!”

  A chorus of pleases followed her into the bathroom, shut out by the door in their faces. The kids had a habit of talking to her simultaneously and just as crazy, she had a habit of being able to hear them all.

  Her head was cloudy from the liquor she drank last night, but the evening with her family had been fun for a change; when all three of them, she, her mother and sister, had gotten along. That in itself was a surprise, but the first one was that Cassandra was there at all, alone, on a Saturday night.

  “What’s up?” she’d asked when D’Andra came through the door.

  “Nothing. What are you doing home?”

  “I live here, remember?”

  How can I forget with you and your kids in my bedroom and me on the couch? “Of course not,” she said. D’Andra had had a good time with Marc and Night. She didn’t want to spoil her good mood.

  “Hey, Jackie is on her way over. You want to hang out, play some Whist or something?”

  D’Andra’s mind whirled with possibilities. While married, Cassandra never invited her to anything, and had only done so once since getting divorced. “What’s the catch—why are you being so nice?” she asked directly.

  “Dang, why does there have to be a catch?” Cassandra started to cop an attitude but then shrugged and went into the kitchen. “Can’t I just be nice to my sister, for a change?”

  D’Andra joined Cassandra in the kitchen. She poured a glass of water and removed a can of Slimfast from the refrigerator.

  “She’s bringing her kids with her,” Cassandra said, reaching past D’Andra into the refrigerator for a liter of cola.

  “Bebe’s kids? Aw, hell no.” So that was it. The spawns of Satan were coming over. Jackie’s kids were destroyers. They’d hit anything that moved and break anything glass.

  “You shouldn’t want your kids around them. They’re a bad influence.”

  “You should be more understanding; they’ve got ADD—attention deficit disorder,” Cassandra said, as if she was telling D’Andra something she didn’t know. “Plus, they’re cousins.”

  She looked on the counter and felt on top of the refrigerator. “Where’s that coupon from Pizza Hut?”

  D’Andra walked over to the drawer by the refrigerator and handed Cassandra a folder of coupons. “No, they don’t have ADD, they have NAW.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The antidot
e for ADD: Need Ass Whupped.”

  “Ooh, Dee, you know you’re wrong. We don’t hit our children these days. We talk to them.”

  “Yeah, talk with the hand, and if that don’t work, a belt. That’s what I’m gonna do if those kids break my stuff. See if they understand that language.”

  “Don’t worry, she got ’em fixed; they’re on Ritalin or some shit.”

  “Dang, for real?” D’Andra didn’t know which was worse; that the kids would act like banshees or zombies.

  But the night had been fun. Jackie had a zany sense of humor and the man she’d brought with her, Todd or Teddy or Thomas or something, was actually decent, if a bit on the nerdy side. She hated to admit or in any way advocate drugging children but little TayTay and Benjamin were much better behaved than the last time she’d seen them.

  The young ones had watched DVDs while the adults gathered in the dining room around a rowdy game of Bid Whist. Mary Smalls came back from the casino and she and Boss joined in the fun as the partners took their turn at the table. The winners stayed at the table while the losers had to rise and fly. As the liquor flowed, so did the trash talking and finally D’Andra gave into Jackie’s prodding to have a Shady Lady, Jackie’s favorite drink.

  The drink’s grapefruit juice and melon liqueur had hidden Patrón’s power and when asked, D’Andra felt she could handle another round. Midway through her second glass she too was slamming her cards down on the table. The funniest time of the night happened when her mother, a Shady Lady or two in the wind herself, turned to D’Andra, her playing partner, and said, “Baby, can you go upstairs and get me my suitcase?”

  An inebriated D’Andra sincerely asked, “Why, Mama?”

  Mary slapped her ace of spades down so hard it spun on the table. She and D’Andra had taken all thirteen books. “Cause somebody’s headed to Boston!”

  D’Andra laughed out loud at last night’s antics as the shower’s hot water helped to clear her head. The previous evening was a reminder that sometimes her family actually liked each other.