Body By Night

by Day, Zuri

  Still hurting from Night’s disappearing act, the last thing D’Andra wanted to talk about was men. This obviously wasn’t Elaine’s problem.

  “I must say he’s extremely good-looking,” Elaine went on. “He was just leaving as I came on for a double shift around three. Tall, dark and handsome almost doesn’t do justice to a looker like him. I think his name is JaJuan.”

  D’Andra snapped to attention. “What’d you say?”

  “JaJuan,” Elaine said nonchalantly, then noticed D’Andra’s changed demeanor.

  “Do you know him?”

  “Night’s real name is JaJuan,” D’Andra answered, sitting up straight. She couldn’t imagine that fate would play such a cruel trick as having another JaJuan come into her life at this moment. “I wonder why he’d be looking at our rehabilitation facility.” The equipment? No, D’Andra reasoned, that couldn’t be it.

  “His mother was in an accident and just came out of her coma yesterday. She was extremely fortunate; no internal injuries and hopefully no sustained brain damage. Looks like her biggest problem is a busted right leg. That’s what he was checking out our rehab center for…they want to begin her treatment as soon as it has healed.”

  D’Andra digested Elaine’s words in silence. So this is where Night had been and probably what he’d said when he’d finally left a message while D’Andra was at Dominque’s funeral. She’d been so angry, she’d erased the message without listening to it. When would she learn not to assume? Everybody knew what they said about that word, that it normally made an ass out of “u” and “me.” She hoped she wasn’t too late to salvage yet another friendship, maybe the most important one of all.

  “I have to go,” she said, rising from the table at the back of the cafeteria where she and Elaine had sat for privacy. “I need to make a phone call.”

  Ten minutes later, D’Andra was back on her ward making the rounds. It hadn’t surprised her that she’d gotten voice mail at three o’clock in the morning. But she’d done what she needed to do. Now all she could do was wait.

  18

  The blinding sunlight told Night it was late in the day. He rolled over lazily, stretched long and hard. It was the first full night in his bed for more than a week; his extended stay on a hospital cot with bird baths for cleaning had been harder on him than he realized.

  Night thought of the moment and broke into a huge smile; the moment his mother, Val Johnson, had opened her eyes. It was just after one o’clock in the morning two days ago. He was by her side as he’d been for most of the time since her arrival. Not able to keep his eyes open for one minute longer, he’d laid his head on the side of her bed, his hand holding hers.

  “JaJuan?”

  At first he thought he’d fallen asleep and was dreaming. And then it came again.

  “JaJuan, what are you doing in my room?”

  Those were the first words his mother spoke since surviving a terrible car accident with a broken arm, a busted up leg and being in a comatose state for almost a week.

  The room became a beehive of activity after that. Doctors were called, nurses came in, check after check was conducted to properly assess her state of mind and well-being. It was almost three o’clock before Night was finally convinced that his mother would live, that she was going to be fine. She’d need extensive rehabilitation for the leg, but no major organs had been injured and there was no permanent brain damage. Night wasn’t known for being a man of prayer, but he sent a thousand thanks to God that morning.

  The second set of thoughts after those about his mother was of D’Andra. His calls to her had gone unanswered. He could only imagine what she’d assumed when he was a no show for their date. He belatedly realized he should have called the night of the accident but forced himself not to worry, however. As soon as she knows the truth, he thought, we’ll be back on track.

  A few moments after stepping out of the shower, a smile was back on his face. He’d checked his messages after he got dressed and was thrilled to hear D’Andra’s voice. He couldn’t dial back fast enough. Just as the phone rang on the other line, so did his doorbell.

  He flipped the phone shut and walked down the hall. His stepfather had been worrying about him and Frank, the photographer, about as close to a second father as anyone could ask for, had also left a message threatening bodily harm if he didn’t get a return phone call before the sun went down. It didn’t surprise him that the old man had chosen instead to do a drive by.

  “Some people just can’t…D’Andra!” Night hadn’t looked through his peephole and was totally taken off guard. “I was expecting someone else.”

  D’Andra’s heart sank. “Oh.” She turned to leave.

  “No, it’s not what you’re thinking.” Night’s firm grasp on her arm stopped D’Andra’s retreat. “I was expecting Frank, or my stepfather, Carter. I’m so glad it’s you.”

  His chocolate orbs bore deeply into D’Andra’s hazel ones, melting her in an instant. “I heard about your mother,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  The sincerity of her compassion went straight to Night’s heart. “Come inside,” he said softly.

  As soon as he closed the door, they were in each other’s arms. In a moment they realized how much they needed each other, had missed each other. D’Andra basked in the feeling of Night’s arms around her. She felt protected and safe, like she could finally take off the mask of strength she’d worn for her family and friends the past week. She didn’t even realize she was crying until Night wiped her tears.

  “There, doll, it’s okay.” Night hugged her closer to him, relishing her softness and warmth. Where before he’d felt discomfited, he now felt anchored, as if his topsy-turvy world had suddenly righted itself. He pulled away just enough to see D’Andra’s eyes. He could get lost in those eyes. His eyes moved to her lips, soft and inviting, pulling him like a magnet. He licked his own soft, plush lips before lowering his head to meet hers.

  At first their kiss was soft and tentative. But when D’Andra reached up and wrapped her arms around Night’s neck, it unleashed a hunger he didn’t know he possessed. He probed her lips with his tongue and when she opened her mouth, plunged in with fervor. Their tongues dueled and danced as he crushed her breasts against his chest, massaging her back and generous backside.

  “I need you,” he said simply.

  He took her hand and led her down the hall to his bedroom. No words were spoken as he turned to her and pulled off her baby doll top. He reached his hands inside the band of her pants and pulled downward, taking a moment to kiss D’Andra’s thighs and stomach as he knelt. While he handled her pants, D’Andra undid her sports bra and let it join the pile of clothes beside her. She stood in her “Vintage Flirt” hipster panties and watched Night strip from his T-shirt and pants. He wore no underwear and his engorged manhood sprang forth with the power of a python, and a head just as large. She instinctively covered her breasts but in that moment Night stepped forward and removed her hands, replacing them with his tongue, his lips. He suckled first one nipple and then the other before burying his head in her weighty mounds. D’Andra gasped at the power she felt in that moment.

  “I need you,” Night repeated softly.

  “Yes,” was D’Andra’s breathy reply.

  Night guided D’Andra to the bed and laid her down, before going to his drawer for protection.

  “Let me,” D’Andra said. She took the packet from Night’s hand and while lovingly massaging his massive manhood took the steps to ensure both their safety.

  Night joined D’Andra on the bed. Their foreplay was slow and deliberate, each committing the other’s body to memory. Night feasted on D’Andra’s plump lips before continuing an oral journey down the length of her body. After he’d paid full attention to each and every part, he lapped the nectar from her personal paradise as if it were his life’s force. D’Andra cried out in ecstasy as she gave way to wave after wave of blissful release. She wanted to return the favor and worship at Night’s sexual sh
rine, but he had other plans. He hovered over her for only an instant, staring deeply into her eyes, before plunging to the hilt, backing out and plunging again. They set up the timeless rhythm of love, at first slow and methodic and then rapid and intense. When they simultaneously met at the apex of ecstasy, the shouts were of joy and triumph…and of feeling complete and whole.

  A few hours later, D’Andra woke with a start. She was disoriented and it took a moment of clearing her head to remember where she was and what had happened. Then she shifted ever so slightly and came up against the hardness of Night Simmons. The smile on her face was instant and sincere. She had never been happier in her life. While hers had not been a promiscuous life by any means, she’d had her share of lovers. Without a doubt, none could compare to what she’d just experienced. Her body throbbed from the memory alone.

  Night stirred beside her and opened his eyes. The peaceful countenance was soon replaced by anxiety.

  “Oh no, what time is it?” he said, tossing back the sheet that covered them both and reaching for his cell phone. “Mom is probably wondering where I am.”

  D’Andra scooted up behind him. She massaged his neck and shoulders, then pressed her breasts against his back. “I’m sure she’s fine,” she cooed, giving him the same comfort he’d offered her earlier.

  And she was. The phone in her room was continuously busy, but Night was able to reach a nurse who informed him that his mother had slept throughout much of the day and was entertaining guests at the very moment he called. Night knew those guests were probably Carter and Frank, and belatedly realized his mother’s line had probably been busy because of her constantly calling and caring church friends.

  His concerns quieted, he rested back against the pillow, pulling D’Andra with him. She nestled her head on his shoulders and swept her hand back and forth across the six-pack she’d admired from the first time they met. They lay in companionable silence for a moment and then Night asked an unexpected question:

  “Do you want to meet my mother?”

  19

  In the thirty minutes it took Night to drive to MLK Hospital, he told D’Andra about his life with Val Johnson. How she and his father, John Simmons, had been an unbeatable team until he was killed in a freak on-the-job accident when Night was twelve. His mother had been compensated and with it bought the house where Night spent his teenage years and where Val still lived. D’Andra learned of the extremely close bond between mother and son, one that remained even after Val remarried a wonderfully kind man named Carter Johnson, when Night was fourteen. They’d been married for twenty-one years.

  “You know, I’ve thought about you meeting my mother before,” Night admitted.

  “Oh, really?” D’Andra answered, pleased that she’d been on his mind. “What brought that thought on?”

  “I can’t remember,” Night lied.

  In reality it was the difference in D’Andra’s kind demeanor compared to his ex-girlfriend, Jazz. Val was always kind to Jazz, while Jazz merely tolerated his mother. Theirs seemed to be a forced relationship. Things would undoubtedly be different with the woman at his side.

  The nurses greeted Night with wide smiles and shy glances. They looked quizzically at D’Andra and one of them, a cute, light-skinned sistah with natural short twists, actually rolled her eyes. Night simply placed his arm around D’Andra’s shoulders and proceeded to his mother’s room.

  “I brought you a surprise,” he began. And then, “what are you doing here?”

  Jazz covered her surprise with a smile. She was expecting, even anticipating, Night’s arrival but hadn’t expected him to bring the Pillsbury Dough Girl along with him. Her brow furrowed a bit as she wondered why he’d bring a client, but she quickly dismissed any discomfort with a toss of her long, straight hair and wide open arms as she rose from the chair.

  “Night!”

  She may as well have been hugging a tree for the response she got. Night stood stock still, his eyes pleading understanding as they gazed at D’Andra. For D’Andra’s part, she didn’t know what to think. They’d just made mind-boggling love for hours, only to run into his so-called ex in his mother’s hospital room? All of the old insecurities rushed to the forefront. She took comfort in doing what came naturally.

  “My name is D’Andra,” she said, as she approached Night’s mother. “You must be the famous Miss Val I’ve heard so much about.”

  D’Andra leaned over and hugged Val gingerly.

  “Nice to meet you,” Val replied. Her next words were replaced by a grimace.

  “Are you alright?” D’Andra asked, instantly going into nurse mode. Without thinking she felt Val’s head and reached for her wrist, taking her pulse in seconds. “Where’s the pain?” She continued running a topical check on Night’s mother without a thought that this wasn’t her job nor the hospital in which she worked. “Your heartbeat’s steady, and I don’t detect a fever. Should we ring for the doctor?”

  “No, baby, I’m fine.” Val’s eyes were lit with admiration as she eyed Night’s new friend. “Just a little pain when I moved my leg.”

  “Sorry about that,” D’Andra said once she realized she may have overstepped bounds. “I’m a nurse and old habits die hard I guess.”

  “And a very good one I suspect,” Val answered. She turned to Jazz who was still clinging to the oak tree otherwise known as JaJuan “Night” Simmons.

  “Thank you for coming, Jazz. And thanks for the flowers. Now I’ve kept you away from your busy schedule long enough. Give my best to your family.” It was an obvious dismissal.

  “Uh, sure, Val,” Jazz replied. She walked up and offered a weak hug to Val’s left side while resisting the urge to prove that she too could stroke a forehead and take a pulse. She turned to D’Andra with an outstretched hand.

  “I’m Night’s friend, Jazz.”

  “She’s my ex-girlfriend,” Night interjected, coming to D’Andra’s side. “It was nice of you to check on my mom,” he said, reiterating his mother’s walking papers even as he wondered how Jazz knew about the accident. Marc. Of course. When Night didn’t return Jazz’s calls she probably went by the gym. He’d have to tell his friend in no uncertain terms that he was no longer to share any information on his life, personal or professional, with one Jazz Anderson.

  “Again we meet,” D’Andra said evenly.

  Jazz wasn’t sure how to respond to D’Andra’s comment. Night hadn’t taken her calls since before she’d spoken with D’Andra by the pier. The uncertainty made her all the more determined to get back into Night’s life. She’d do whatever it took, including playing the money card.

  “Can I speak to you privately?” she asked Night.

  “Not now,” he said. He walked over to his mother’s bed and gave her a light hug. D’Andra walked over to his side. The family picture made Jazz want to puke.

  “Make it soon,” she said, barely keeping the venom from her voice. “It’s about the financing for your baby, the gym.”

  Before Night could respond, she was gone.

  Jazz didn’t wait until she got to her car. As soon as she turned the corner from Val Johnson’s room, she pulled out her cell phone and began to dial. Brad picked up on the second ring.

  “Hey, beautiful. I’ve been meaning to call you. Escrow will be done in thirty days. I’m sure you’ll be ready to celebrate—”

  “Never mind that,” Jazz interrupted. “Can you stop the sale from going through?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. I don’t want Night to get the building!”

  “Why, what’s going on?”

  “Look, Night and I broke up a few months ago and our business partnership is dissolved.”

  Jazz changed her voice from demanding to demure. “You’re my friend, Brad, and it’s probably not professional to tell you this. But I–I caught Night with another woman.” Jazz drummed up genuine tears as she embraced her lie. “It made me question whether he was with me for me, or because of my connections…to amazin
g people like you.”

  “I’m not sure, Jazz,” Brad continued in a halting voice. He liked Jazz, had even desired to date her, but he’d worked hard on this sale and while he was wealthy and didn’t need the commission, it was going to be a nice one. He was torn.

  The sound of Jazz’s heels tapping across the concrete pavement filled the otherwise silent moment. Finally Brad spoke.

  “Give me a couple days. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Brad, you’re the best,” Jazz purred. “I’m going to have to think of a really special way to thank you.”

  There was a definite bounce to Jazz’s walk as she reached her convertible, and her scowl had been replaced by a satisfied smile. She’d give anything to be a fly on the wall when Night found out his dream location had fallen out of escrow. She refused to feel guilty. It was his fault, not hers. He was the one who’d chosen a super-sized hamburger when he could have had Chateaubriand. She hoped Night’s dumpy new girlfriend could comfort him when he found out he’d lost everything. Jazz’s eyes narrowed as she pondered her truth: if he’d stayed with her he could have had it all.

  20

  Night was all smiles. His mother had gotten progressively better in the weeks since regaining consciousness. He and D’Andra were officially a couple, following his mother’s accident, their missed date and her run-in with Jazz. He’d been right. His mother adored D’Andra and it seemed the feeling was mutual. D’Andra had visited Val a few times alone and told his mother not to make a fuss to her son about it. Of course she did.

  “That’s just the sweetest soul,” she’d said when Night came to visit one day after D’Andra had left. “She brought me those books over there and gave me this special pillow for my neck. Very thoughtful.”