Body By Night (13 page)

“Hey, handsome!” Jazz exclaimed, throwing herself into Night’s arms as soon as the door opened. She kissed his stunned lips and cupped his cheek gently. “I’ve missed you.”

Night was momentarily too surprised to speak. How long had it been, almost eight, nine months since they last spoke? What was she doing here? What did she want? And did D’Andra see her come to his house?

“Who was that chunky monkey that almost knocked me off the sidewalk?” Jazz asked, answering his unasked question. She snuggled against Night from behind, missing the look of fury that crossed his face as a result of her insult.

“Her name is D’Andra,” he said, unfolding her arms from around his waist and turning around. His crossed-arm, wide-leg stance bore that of a warrior. “What are you doing here, Jazz?”

“I couldn’t stay away any longer, Night. I’ve been a total fool and torn an unbeatable team apart. Well, I’m back, and willing to do whatever you tell me. Ready to help you get the business going, solicit impressive clients…and I think I’ve got another financial backer for us.”

For a moment, Night was pulled in by some of Jazz’s traits that he found most attractive: her ambition, drive and tenacity. She was beautiful and he’d loved her dearly. Whatever perfume she was wearing was driving him wild.

He turned from her. “What we had is over, Jazz. Didn’t you get the dissolution papers regarding our partnership?”

“Baby,” she cooed, lightly scanning her hand over his backside, enjoying the reaction when he clenched it under her touch. “Those pesky details we can take care of later. I ran into Marc and he said you’re still opening the gym. I didn’t think you were, I mean, with us no longer together…”

“You didn’t think I could make it without you, is that what you’re saying?”

“No, Night, it’s not what I meant. But my part of the partnership was securing finances. I just wonder how you were able to buy the property.”

“You’re not the only one with connections.”

Night breathed a silent prayer to Aunt Jewel, who’d left him a sizeable amount of money in her will. He worked to rein in his anger at Jazz’s assumption that he couldn’t succeed without her. “What do you want?”

Jazz didn’t know what kind of welcome she’d expected, but this wasn’t it. She had Night wrapped around her fingers, putty in her hands. At least that’s how it used to be. Sure, he always exuded strength, but not with her. Not like this.

“Come here, Chocolate,” she whispered his pet name through moistened lips, batting her lashes and approaching him again in a way that dared him to deny her. She rubbed her Zuni silk mini across his bare chest and licked it. He tasted sweaty, salty, like he used to after intense lovemaking. She could feel his heart beating, hard and fast. She knew he wouldn’t be able to resist her.

His intent was to push her away but almost of their own volition, Night’s hands came up to cup her round, fleshy bottom. She smelled like flowers and felt like butter. At one time, she’d been his world.

But that was then; this was now. He moved his hands from her bottom to her hips and pushed her gently but firmly away from him.

“I’ve got things to do, Jazz. It’s good to see you. I hope you’re well. But what we had is over.” He walked to the door and opened it. “Don’t come by again.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Does it sound like I’m playing?”

“Night, I made a big mistake breaking up with you.”

“I broke up with you, remember?”

Jazz ignored the comment and went on. “And I’ve paid for it every day your arms haven’t been around me. Please, baby; I’ll do whatever I have to, whatever you say, to make up for how I left you. It wasn’t fair, I know. But I was weak, jealous; afraid I’d lose you. So I left first, thinking it would hurt less. It hasn’t.”

Feeling she was making inroads into his heart, she continued. “I’ve changed, Night. I know I can trust you now; that you’ll be faithful even with all the other women around. Please say we can try again, Night. Please?”

Night’s resolve wavered a bit. At her best Jazz was beautiful, smart, funny and sexy as hell. At her worst she was belittling, insensitive, jealous and conceited. He remembered what his mother had said after Jazz made fun of a homeless man.
Ugly sure comes in a pretty package.
He remembered the comment she’d made about D’Andra, a woman who was beautiful inside and out. His moment of wavering was over. He’d made his choice, and it wasn’t Jazz.

“I wish you well, Jazz,” he said as he ushered her to the door. “Please don’t come here again.”

Angry didn’t begin to describe Jazz’s mood. She never considered for a moment that Night would refuse her. It wasn’t often she was turned down for anything, especially by a man.

It just means I’ll have to work a little harder, she thought, as she backed out of Night’s driveway. Jazz Anderson always got what she wanted. Her next plan of seduction was hatched before her car reached the end of the block.

“Where are you going?” Mary Smalls, who was sitting on the couch devouring a slab of barbequed ribs and a mound of fries, eyed her daughter suspiciously.

“I have a date,” D’Andra sang back.

“What, you?”

“Dang, Mama; you don’t have to act so surprised.”

“And you don’t have to act like you go out every day. I ain’t seen you on a date since Charles left.”

“I left
him
, Mama.”

“Whoever left who, he ain’t here. This one any good?”

“Yes.” D’Andra wasn’t ready to share Night with her family. They’d be able to do their damage soon enough, if what was building went that far.

“You want some of these ribs?”

“No thanks, Mama.”

“Oh, that’s right; this food is too rich for your blood. I can see you’re losing though.”

This was the first acknowledgement of D’Andra’s nearly fifteen-pound weight loss. “I’m working on it.”

“Next thing you know, you’ll be as small as Cassandra.”

“I’ll never be her size; and I’m not trying to be. I’m just trying to be a healthy weight for me. You should come join the gym with me, Mama; we could do the treadmill together.”

“Girl, I’m not trying to put my big fat ass on something moving under my feet.”

“Well we could do something else then. Go walking at the beach maybe, or the park.”

“Look, everybody ain’t trying to lose weight. I’m fine just the way I am. Besides, Boss loves me this way.”

It was a rare, fairly civil conversation, one that D’Andra didn’t want to have turn into an argument. So she changed the subject. “Why aren’t you at the casino?”

“Humph. Them bitches been taking too much of my money,” her mother replied, referring to her favorite vice, the nickel and quarter slot machines.

D’Andra laughed. “I thought those were your girls?”

“That’s when they’re paying me; when they’re robbing me, they’re bitches.”

The fact of the matter was Mary hadn’t been feeling well lately. She’d been tired, sluggish. This past week she was in a building where the elevator was out of service. She barely made it up two short flights of steps to her appointment. Her daughter was probably right that a little exercise would be good for her. Maybe she’d join her one day. She affirmed that thought by grabbing another juicy rib soaked in sauce and followed the bite of meat with half a slice of white bread.

“Looks like Cassandra might be close to getting married,” Mary said.

“To whom?”

“What do you mean, to whom? Anthony, the ball player.”

“What about the rapper?”

“What rapper?”

D’Andra hadn’t told her mother about Cassandra’s romp between the sheets in the house they all shared. Obviously Cassandra hadn’t either.

“I thought I heard her mention a rapper.”

“No, Cassandra’s gonna marry that ball player so we can get paid. He took her and the kids to Magic Mountain. Once the man starts entertaining the kids, you’re close then.”

D’Andra wanted to ask if that were the case with Cassandra’s father, if he’d ever taken Cassandra anywhere. If he had, D’Andra didn’t remember. But then, she could barely remember her own father, and that may have been best. Instead, she decided to head towards Pacific Theatres where she was meeting Night. It was early, but she could walk around, maybe visit a store nearby. She was too excited to sit still, and didn’t want her mother to say anything to spoil her mood.

“See you later, Mama,” she said. She came over and gave Mary a quick peck on the cheek.

“Try and keep him if he’s a good one,” her mother said. “And make sure he has some money!” she added, just before D’Andra closed the door.

Coming to Manhattan Village shopping center early had been a good idea. It was a perfect evening, announcing the coming of March, with a nice breeze that ruffled D’Andra’s freshly permed curls. D’Andra made a leisurely stroll down the row of shops, and in just short of an hour she picked up two pairs of earrings, a short, flirty spring dress, a couple of her favorite baby doll tops and a bottle of Vera Wang cologne. Now she headed to Pacific Theatres, where she and Night would be seeing a much-talked-about independent film. It was such a delight to learn that Night liked offbeat movies the same as her. Chanelle used to always say about a subtitled movie, “If they can’t say it in English, then I don’t need to know.”

Night and D’Andra had agreed to meet in front of the theatre by the ticket counter. D’Andra arrived about five minutes before their scheduled meeting, and took the time to make sure she was presentable, as if she hadn’t checked ten times before leaving the house and once again in the dressing room at Macy’s where she’d done her earlier shopping. It wasn’t that she was nervous, not exactly. But try as she might she hadn’t been able to forget about Miss America, the woman with the perfect body and drop-dead gorgeous face. She knew she couldn’t compete with her; knew it was crazy to even try. So she’d gone for casual chic in black Capri pants and a belted jersey top. She felt her slingback sandals flattered her calves and ankles, worth the discomfort brought on by sixty minutes of walking around in new shoes. Pleased with what she saw when she looked in the mirror, she pulled out her Raisin Rapture L’Oreal lipstick, and after applying it added a thin coat of gloss. She puckered her lips at the mirror and deemed them just right…perfect for Night’s lips when they met hers later on that evening. She couldn’t wait to see him.

Night was running late. It had been a crazy day. Night’s hip-hop artist client came into town unexpectedly and wanted a workout. Then the realtor called with good news about the property for his gym. The buyer who’d swooped in after Night had to pull out had fallen out of escrow. Night had to move fast if he wanted to secure it, but now, with the ability to offer a higher down payment than he could have with Jazz, the bank would work with him. He hadn’t thought twice about putting his name on the dotted line. The space was as good as his. He couldn’t wait to share the news with D’Andra about being that much closer to realizing his dream.

Once home, he’d barely had time to shower and shave and hoped his casual attire of jeans and a starched shirt would be okay. Jazz was always critical of his attire if it wasn’t perfect. For a moment he hesitated, thinking to change his clothes. Then he remembered it wasn’t Jazz he was meeting but D’Andra, who had accepted him for who he was from the first. He couldn’t wait to see her.

Just as he was setting his home alarm, the phone rang. Night thought about answering but decided against it. He was late enough as it was. His cell phone started ringing before he got to his car. Probably Mom, he thought, without looking at the caller ID. He figured he’d call her back once he got on his way. There was a spring in his step as he bounced to his car and hurriedly backed down the drive. Before he was able to drive off the block, his phone rang again.

He answered without looking at the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Yes, may I speak to…a JaJuan Simmons?”

Night’s heartbeat quickened immediately. No one called him JaJuan but his mother. Almost no one outside his immediate family even knew his real name. He’d been called Night by everyone—student and teacher, adult and child, friend and foe, men and women alike, since he was six years old.

“Yes, this is JaJuan Simmons.”

“Mr. Simmons, this is Martin Luther King Medical Center calling. You need to get over here right away, sir.”

“Martin Luther Ki—” Night’s hands turned clammy. “Why, what’s going on?”

“It’s your mother, sir. There’s been an accident.”

D’Andra didn’t worry, at first. It wasn’t unusual to run a little late with L.A. traffic. Plus she knew previews would run for about ten minutes. They still wouldn’t miss the movie.

Twenty minutes later and she thought to call him. But she didn’t want to appear over-anxious. She figured she would give him ten more minutes and smiled at the thought of watching six feet of fine man walking through the theatre’s double glass doors.

Ten minutes passed and still no Night. She called his cell, the only number she had, and got voice mail. She thought about calling the gym and asking for Marc, but that seemed a little overboard. After all, this wasn’t business, it was a date. She refused to think anything negative. He’d have a perfectly good explanation when he drove up, which she knew would be any minute now.

Forty-five minutes passed before D’Andra admitted the obvious; Night wasn’t coming. She’d called his cell phone again twice with no results. A niggling fear set in. What if something had happened to him, an accident of some kind? She thought about going to his house, but just as quickly dismissed the idea. If he had been in an accident he wouldn’t be at his house. After an hour she could no longer hold the doubts at bay. Nor could she erase the image of Miss America, in all her glory, stopping by Night’s house and changing his plans. That image melded with the one of Charles, and the horrible incident that had led to their breakup. The pain rushed up unexpected, clouded her mind and lodged in her throat.

She made it to her car without breaking down. Navigated the traffic as if nothing was wrong. But once she reached her house, the blue Toyota parked in front of the black Infiniti rubbed salt in her wounds. She didn’t see her mother’s Buick, and doubted that the kids were home. D’Andra couldn’t help but draw the obvious conclusion: Cassandra had been dropped off by Anthony and immediately called Hollah, the rapper, who was no doubt fucking her brains out in D’Andra’s bed.

The insistent bass of an unknown tune was D’Andra’s greeting as she opened the door. Otherwise, the house was still; no one else in the downstairs area. As loud as the music was, D’Andra could still hear creaking bedsprings and lovers’ moans. She walked into the kitchen, slammed a few cabinet doors, and when the lovers’ sonata continued, walked into the living room, turned on the television and blasted CNN.

The amplified drone of Anderson Cooper’s “Planet In Peril” had the desired effect. Within minutes the creaking stopped, and then the music. A slamming door alerted D’Andra that she would soon have company.

“What the hell?”

“Oh,” D’Andra asked innocently. “Is this too loud?”

“You know good and damn well it is!”

“Not really; didn’t know what you could hear over the music and the bedsprings.”

“Damn, D’Andra; you could have just knocked. I thought you were out on a date.”

“I was…where’s Mama?”

“Hollah gave her some money to go to the casino.”

“I thought you had a date with Anthony.”

Cassandra looked anxiously towards the stairs as she stepped toward her sister.

“Girl, don’t be mentioning his name like that,” she hissed, looking over her shoulder again. “Hollah’s my man right now. He’s getting ready to sign a record deal with Snoop’s label.”

“Guess baseballer didn’t get up to bat fast enough,” D’Andra countered sarcastically.

“At least I’ve got a man,” Cassandra shot back. “Don’t be mad at me because of whatever happened tonight that has you back before ten o’clock. And don’t try and mess up my shit. I’m trying to get paid and come up. I’ve got kids.”

“Kids? Plural? So you finally told him about the twins?”

“Yes, not that it’s any of your business. He took me to drop them off at Jackie’s.”

D’Andra snorted and Cassandra, in a rare moment of sharing, let her sister peep into her world.

“I’ve got to get it where I can DeeDee,” she said softly, her eyes on the stairs. “You were always smart; you can handle things yourself. I’ve always known that my looks are my ticket and I’m okay with that. But the truth of the matter is I’m not getting any younger; and I’ve got three kids. It’s either Hollah or Anthony that will help me get where I need to go and yes, may the best man, and the man who gets there the fastest, win. Right now, Hollah’s got the paper; that’s why he’s here.”

“If Hollah’s got the paper, why aren’t you at his house? Or the Marriott, the Hyatt, someplace private?”

“And why aren’t you with your man? Mama said you had a date. Don’t come in here thumbing your nose at me, big sis. I’m handling my business.”

“Yes, in my bed.”

“Whatever…I’m handling it. And if all goes well I’ll be out of here in another month or so.”

“With your children?”

Pushing Cassandra’s “baby button” was not the button of peace.

“At least I’ve got kids,” she snarled. “What have you got besides a fat ass and a piece of paper that allows you to wipe an old person’s behind? Don’t get so high and mighty on me, D’Andra. Because the truth of it is you’re cleaning up shit and living with your Mama. You ain’t all that.” Cassandra turned toward the stairs.

“I don’t want to hear y’all fucking.”

“Why? Will it remind you of what you’re missing?”

“Oh, please. There is
nothing
missing from my life!”

“Yeah; keep telling yourself that, sister. Maybe one day you’ll believe it.”

Moments after Cassandra stomped up the stairs she came back down with a carry-on bag, Hollah by her side.

“Yo, D’Andra,” he drawled, nodding his head knowingly.

What did he think he knew?
D’Andra thought. She dared not ponder the answer. It was no telling what Cassandra told him to get him to spring for a hotel room.

“Hey,” she said simply, not wanting to be rude.

As she watched them walk out the door, she wondered about Cassandra’s friend, Hollah, and his real name. She pondered men with nicknames, why and how they stuck. Looking back it seemed interesting and a tad odd that she’d only recently learned Night’s full name. Her first thought was that he was being secretive, but she knew that reasoning was simply paranoia. Maybe she didn’t know more about him because she hadn’t asked. Belatedly she realized that aside from his cell phone, home address and love of all things fitness, she knew very little about the man who’d stood her up, and even now had her panties in a bunch.

The silence in the now empty house was deafening. Too late D’Andra realized that next to it, she preferred the bedsprings. She wished more than ever for a friend in that moment. The thought of calling Elaine was quickly doused. Saturday night was date night for Max and her, when the kids stayed with one of their parents’ siblings. D’Andra didn’t feel her situation enough of an emergency to interrupt their private time. Without thought, she went back to her old standby of comfort: food. She walked to the freezer and pulled out the quart container of Ben & Jerry’s chocolate chip cookie dough that hadn’t been touched since she started working out. Bypassing a bowl, she took a large spoon from the drawer and walked into the living room. Just as she was getting ready to take her first bite, the phone rang.