Body By Night

by Day, Zuri

“Maybe I can ask you another question. Do you know who my father is?”

  Another pause. “I know the people who Mary hung around with when you were conceived. For the first couple years, I thought you were my child. But then a few things happened and I began to question it. Your mama wouldn’t talk to me either and eventually…if you don’t have communication in a relationship you don’t have anything.”

  “Well…I appreciate you calling. Tell Sylvia I said hello.”

  D’Andra heard Orlando relaying her message. “She says hello back and wishes you the best.”

  D’Andra tried to fill in the empty spaces left by Orlando’s conversation as she shopped for groceries. What could have happened to her mother that she didn’t want to talk about? she wondered. Was Orlando involved? Was her real father? Had her father done something illegally? Was he in jail? There were more questions than answers as she loaded up her food items and headed back to her apartment. At this point she saw little else she could do to find out about her father. The man she’d thought was him wouldn’t give her any hints, and the only person with all the answers wasn’t talking.

  D’Andra decided to try a different route back to her new home. She headed north on Sepulveda Boulevard and turned on a street she thought would take her around to the back of her building and to the gate to the underground parking. Instead she found herself on a quaint side street with a mixture of shops. Upon quick glance she spotted a bookstore, a plant and fish shop and an Indian food restaurant on the corner. That’s when she realized that it was lunchtime and she hadn’t eaten yet. Not wanting to wait and prepare something herself, she decided to pick up lunch from the restaurant and take it home.

  She quickly found a place to park and went inside. The atmosphere was colorful and cozy and the smell of deliciously spicy food greeted her as soon as she opened the door. The menu was filled with mouth-watering fare and as hungry as she was she had trouble making up her mind. She decided on a flat bread called Punjabi, lentil soup, vegetable curry and chicken masala. At the last minute she decided to double the order, in case Night was hungry when he came over later.

  As the cashier helped bag up her order, the bell over the front door clanged. A customer came in and stood next to D’Andra, looking at the menu.

  “Have you eaten here before?” D’Andra asked as she turned.

  “Yes, the food’s…oh…you.”

  “Hello, Jazz.”

  The cashier placed D’Andra’s large bag on the counter. “I see you’ve lost a pound or two, all Night’s doing I’m sure. But you’re still eating like a fat person.”

  D’Andra resisted the petty comeback that included the mention of her soon-to-be dining companion. “Fat girls do love food,” she said instead.

  She picked up the bag and turned once more to Jazz. “Take care.”

  She was almost to the door when Jazz asked in a pseudo silky voice. “How’s Night?”

  “Fine,” D’Andra said, not turning around.

  “What’s he going to do now that his dream to be the next Billy Blanks has hit a wall?”

  That comment stopped D’Andra. She stopped and turned. “What are you talking about?”

  Jazz seemed unsure, but only for a moment. “It’s a small town,” she said once she’d regained her poise. “I hear things. And Brad Gilman is a dear friend of mine.”

  With those words she turned back to the menu, a pointed sign that the conversation was over. D’Andra opened her mouth to speak and then thought better of it. Her time and energy would be put to better use talking to Night instead.

  She saw his GMC Acadia as soon as she turned the corner.

  “Hey, baby. Go to the front and I’ll let you in as soon as I park. Hope you’re hungry!” she added as she sped away to the back and the garage gate.

  The apartment building door hadn’t completely closed before D’Andra spilled her news. “I think I know what happened with your gym space, why it hit a snag.”

  “You do?” Night easily kept up with a fast-moving D’Andra as she headed back to her car.

  “Jazz.”

  Night stopped. “Jazz?”

  “I just saw her at the restaurant where I got the food that’s in the car.”

  “What did she say?” Night reached into the back of D’Andra’s SUV and easily carried two bags of groceries, a bag of cleaning products and a box containing a four-piece dish set.

  D’Andra took the bag of food from the front seat and locked her car. She recapped the brief conversation as she and Night headed toward the elevator.

  “How would she know that your deal fell through if she wasn’t involved?”

  “She and Brad are good friends. That’s how I met him.”

  “Do you think he would purposely do something to prevent your deal from closing; I mean, can he do that?”

  “Anything can happen,” Night answered.

  They entered the apartment. Night put the groceries on one counter while D’Andra unpacked food containers on the opposite counter by the stove.

  “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “I wasn’t until I smelled that food.” He peered over her shoulder into one of the containers. “Is this from Mayura’s?”

  “You’ve eaten there?”

  “Yes,” Night said, and then answered the unasked question. “With Jazz.”

  D’Andra quelled her feelings of jealousy and sudden inadequacy and quipped, “Trust me when I tell you the food will taste better eaten with me.”

  She fixed their plates and handed one to Night. “Have a seat,” she said dryly.

  They sat with their backs against the dining room wall and ate in silence before D’Andra continued.

  “You thinking about Jazz, wondering how she blocked your getting the gym?”

  “Knowing Jazz, I know how. But it’s all good though. I know a few people in L.A. as well. This is far from over. I’ve already got another possibility, but the price is twice as high.”

  Night told D’Andra about his meeting with Frank’s associate, and the space opening up in another prime location not far from Ladera Heights, the location of his first space. D’Andra thought of Jazz and realized her attempted punch at hurting Night hadn’t landed as hard as she’d hoped. Night was just as excited, if not more, about the possibilities of opening up in the space he’d just seen. The bottom line is her baby had his smile back. That was all D’Andra wanted.

  Jazz sat in a corner booth of Mayura’s restaurant. What little appetite she’d had left when she ran into D’Andra. She pushed aside her partially eaten samosas, a crispy vegetable-filled crust that any other time would have been scarfed down in minutes, and idly sipped ginger beer. Why isn’t Brad answering? she wondered. She picked up her phone and dialed him again.

  Brad rolled over, exhausted yet thoroughly satiated. He’d just experienced, without a doubt, the best sex he’d ever had. And having so recently been with Jazz, he didn’t think that was possible.

  “Damn, you are incredible, absolutely incredible.”

  Cassandra accepted the compliment without responding. Rather she took Brad’s hand and placed it in her wetness. She’d employed every trick in her erotica playbook and knew the trap was set to catch her latest prey. Now it was time to begin the subtle shift in power. Cassandra knew only one way to play the male/female game—on top.

  She kissed Brad quickly, rolled out of the bed and headed to the shower. She was well aware of the picture she painted as she walked naked across the room. She stopped and turned just before going into the bathroom. Brad was staring at her, as she’d imagined.

  “What?” she asked coyly, as if she didn’t know.

  “You haven’t even started working for me yet and I already don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Well if you play your cards right, Mr. Brad Gilman, you’ll never have to find that out.”

  26

  The next three weeks passed by in a blissful blur for D’Andra. March had melded seamlessly into April as she settl
ed into her new apartment, found a Bally’s in her area, continued her day and nighttime workouts with Night, at least the nights when she wasn’t working, and registered for an online course on nutrition. She felt bad about canceling her plans to attend college, but she’d determined her life was too chaotic for a full load of courses. The online course made her feel that she was staying somewhat on track with her goals.

  On top of that, she felt physically better than ever. She’d lost another five pounds and almost screamed two days ago when she put on a size sixteen dress at Lane Bryant and had room to spare. Thanks to peace, quiet and a king-sized bed she felt more rested than she had in months, even with the extracurricular activities of the Night kind. But undoubtedly the most significant event that happened was the conversation she finally had with Chanelle.

  It all started when D’Andra called Connie. They discussed getting together during the summer, among other things. Near the end of their conversation, Chanelle’s name came up.

  “You guys still haven’t talked, I take it.”

  “No.”

  Silence, and then, “She was your friend for twenty years, D’Andra. I’m not asking you to believe what she tells you. But don’t you think you at least owe her the courtesy of hearing her out, of maybe a ten, fifteen minute conversation before you close the door for the rest of your life?”

  Until now, the answer had been no. But she knew what could happen when one assumed, without all the facts. For the first time, she seriously thought about taking her friend’s advice.

  “So Connie, if you walked in and saw Will screwing another woman, you honestly believe you’d give her an opportunity to tell her side of the story?”

  “I would if it were you, D’Andra. I’d want to know how my best friend, who’d been with me since we were ten, could betray me like that. I’d definitely have the conversation. Now, I may kick your ass after hearing the explanation, but I’d want to know what you had to say for yourself.”

  The conversation ended, and after another thirty minutes of intense thinking, D’Andra phoned Chanelle. They agreed to meet, and were soon sitting at an outdoor café in Leimert Park, a Black business enclave in south Los Angeles.

  “I’d had too much to drink that night,” Chanelle began shortly after they’d gotten their coffees and were seated. “Me and my date got into an argument, and he left without me. You’d already gone by then, and when I saw Charles, I asked him to drive me home.

  “On the way, he asked if I was hungry. I knew I needed to put something in my stomach to soak up all the alcohol, and said yes. We stopped, got some KFC, and then Charles wanted something to drink and stopped at a liquor store.”

  Chanelle paused and looked at D’Andra, who returned her unflinching gaze.

  “When we got to my house,” she continued, “Charles said he had to use the bathroom. After he finished, he asked if I wanted a wine cooler. That’s the biggest mistake I made that night…saying yes. He asked me for a bottle opener. I gave it to him and then went to wash my hands.

  “D’Andra,” Chanelle said, her eyes beginning to water. “He had to have put something in it, because I only drank one cooler and the next thing I knew I was waking up with my panties down by my ankles and that muthafucka’s cum on my thighs.”

  D’Andra slowly digested this information. Chanelle’s explanation shed a whole new light on what D’Andra thought she’d seen that night. D’Andra had noticed Chanelle’s drinking, and her date was partying too. After leaving the club, D’Andra became concerned and called to make sure Chanelle was okay.

  She tried the cell and home phone several times and when there was still no answer at two am, decided to drive over to Chanelle’s and check on her. She remembered being startled to see Charles’s car, and instead of knocking, looking into the living room window. When she didn’t see anyone, she’d used the extra key they had to each other’s homes and went inside. She tiptoed to the bedroom, and saw her worst fear realized.

  “That’s why you didn’t answer when I hollered at you,” D’Andra said. “Because you were passed out. I thought it was because you didn’t give a damn.

  “I never for one minute thought what was happening was against your will. But as long as we’d been friends, I should have known better. I’m sorry, Nelly.”

  “You came and checked on your girl,” Chanelle answered. “To make sure I was all right. There was no way you could have known what was really happening. If I had seen what you saw, I probably would have jumped to the very same conclusion.”

  “He should be in jail for what he did.”

  “I tried to press charges. The courts wouldn’t prosecute. Said that even with DNA proving we’d had sex, it would just be my word against his. But what goes around comes around. Charles is going to get what’s coming to him. Watch and see.”

  Another interesting development had occurred. There was a new patient on D’Andra’s wing of the rehabilitation center—Night’s mother, Val. Bringing her thoughts back to the present, D’Andra smiled as she walked down the hall toward her newest patient’s room.

  It was just after twelve-thirty in the morning. D’Andra tiptoed into the room. She didn’t want to wake Val if she was sleeping; just wanted to do a quick check before she began her regularly scheduled round of patients. She placed a finger under her nose to feel her breathing and noted the tone of her skin. Her breath was full and even; her color rich and healthy. All looks fine here, D’Andra thought.

  “You leaving without saying hello?” Val asked.

  D’Andra turned around. “I didn’t mean to wake you, Miss Val. How are you doing? Are we treating you okay?”

  “Everybody here is so nice. I’m being treated like a queen. But then, I think you have something to do with that.”

  “You mean that death threat I put out on anybody who mistreated you?”

  They both chuckled.

  “Are you sleeping okay? Would you like some medication to help you rest?”

  “No, baby, I’m sleeping fine. Just a light-sleeper is all, have been ever since I gave birth to Night all those years ago.”

  D’Andra took Val’s blood pressure and temperature, and then adjusted her pillows.

  “Get a good night’s sleep,” she admonished. “We want you fresh and ready to go when Bryan comes to work that leg in the morning.”

  “You mean that pretty boy with those deep blue eyes?”

  “May I remind you that you’re a married woman,” D’Andra teased.

  “There’s nothing wrong with admiring the product, as long as I don’t sample the merchandise.”

  A little after seven, D’Andra was ready to clock out. Elaine met her in the hallway.

  “Have you heard the word, Girlfriend? Your honey is creating quite the buzz.”

  “Yes, I heard,” D’Andra responded dryly. “Even Miss Daisy talked about the nice-looking colored man she saw in the hall.”

  “I’m told that for some mysterious reason Miss Val’s vitals get taken much more often when Night’s in the room.”

  “Don’t tell me, Rita and the new girl, Allison.”

  “Watch Allison, that girl is hot to trot. She’s the type to slip him her phone number.”

  “That’s why I thank God I’m with a man I can trust. Are we still working out together this weekend?”

  “Foot loose and fancy free for one of the rare times in life? You bet!”

  Elaine’s husband, Max, had joined friends in Big Bear for fishing, poker, too much drinking and male bonding. The children were in San Diego, with Max’s mom. Night would be busy Saturday checking out more potential locations for his gym. So the two work colleagues made plans for a rare weekend get together: a workout at Bally followed by a non-diet dinner and a movie, comedy preferred.

  Her thoughts back to the present, D’Andra showered and got ready for bed. She’d just gone into the kitchen for a glass of water when her phone rang. She frowned slightly. It wasn’t even eight in the morning and she could count on one ha
nd who had her number. As she went into the living room to pick up the receiver, she fought against the rising blood pressure that came with thinking an emergency had occurred.

  “Dee, it’s Cassandra.”

  “Hey, Cassandra. What’s wrong?” Belatedly she realized there was no anxiety on the other line. This is a surprise. Of the people on one hand she’d figured were calling, her younger sister was not one.

  “Sorry to bother you but I wanted to catch you before you went to bed. I need a favor.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Can you watch the kids this weekend?”

  “Sorry, Cassandra, but I have plans.”

  “Come on, Dee. I really need you to watch them. I’ve got an invitation to fly to Palm Springs for the weekend.”

  “You’ll have to take a raincheck,” D’Andra replied, yawning. “It’s too late for me to change my plans. I miss the little rugrats though and will be happy to watch them another weekend, when we have time to plan ahead.”

  “Thanks, sister. Maybe next weekend?”

  Thanks, sister? First of all, D’Andra thought, Cassandra was not a morning person. Secondly, she usually stomped and pouted for at least five minutes before giving up on a babysitting request and, thirdly, she never ever called D’Andra “sister.” Something was going on.

  “What’s the reason for this sunny mood? Did Anthony or Hollah propose?”

  “Anthony and Hollah are history. I’ve got a new man now.”

  “Girl, I can’t keep up with you.”

  “For the first time in our dating history, I’m trying to keep up with you. I took one look at that chocolate candy you pulled in and knew I had to step up my game!”

  “There’s a first time for everything. It sounds like you’re happy, San.”

  “Happy is relative; I’m going for satisfied and paid. I just may have found my bank account.”

  D’Andra didn’t respond to this comment. In this area, Cassandra had taken a page directly out of Mary Smalls’ playbook.

  “Call me later,” she said instead. “I’m about to fall asleep talking on the phone.”