Body By Night (21 page)

She straightened out her carefully chosen outfit as she walked toward the gym to demand a conversation with Night. An earlier phone call to the gym had confirmed he was teaching his Wednesday night kickboxing class, a fact further evidenced by seeing his car in the parking lot.

Appreciative male eyes and envious female ones turned toward her as she walked into the gym. Her form-fitting white mini-skirt showed off a tight, round derriere and firm, scar-free legs, further elongated by three-inch strappy white sandals. The matching white midriff she wore emphasized a flat stomach and played up her surgically enhanced orbs. She walked up to the glass of the room where Night’s class was being conducted and tossed back her long, straight black hair while lifting her chin in greeting when he noticed her. Then she sat on a workout bench directly in front of the glass, crossed her legs and waited patiently. She looked as though she’d been torn from a fashion magazine, with the poise and grace of a princess.

“Why didn’t you take the class?” Marc asked as he sat down on a bench next to hers.

“Hey, Marc.”

“You’re looking beautiful, as usual.”

Jazz simply smiled.

“So you just came down to stare at your ex?”

Jazz’s smile disappeared. “Is why I’m here any of your business?”

“Whoa, what’s with the attitude? I just asked a question. You’re not a member here; it’s not like I had to let you in.”

“You’re right, Marc. I apologize for being snippy. I’m here to see Night for personal reasons.” Jazz flashed a come-hither smile. “Is that a better answer?”

“Much.”

“What time is this class over?”

Marc looked at his watch. “In about ten minutes.”

Jazz turned her full attention back to Night, drinking in his amazing physique as he kicked his leg to the side and straight up. His posture was perfect, his hands balled into fists and positioned at waist level. His body glistened with sweat, its darkness further enhanced by the stark white drawstring pants he wore. Jazz’s body hummed as she remembered the feeling of that mass of muscle covering her. She wanted to feel it again.

Night toweled off and patiently answered questions from his class of mostly female boxers once his class ended. He knew that Jazz was waiting on him and therefore was in no hurry to leave the room. At the same time, he knew D’Andra was also waiting on him, which spurred him into action. He gathered his personal items and placed them in a black leather gym bag. The rich scent of a luxury perfume alerted him that Jazz was in the room before he turned around.

“I forgot how beautiful your body is,” Jazz said.

“What’s up, Jazz?”

“Once again, you’re not returning my calls.”

“I’ve been busy. Besides, since we’re no longer business partners I don’t know what it is that we have to talk about.”

“What about responding because we were lovers for almost four years? And friends as well, or so I thought.”

Night headed out of the room. Jazz followed beside him. Those observing noted they looked the perfect couple, made a striking pair.

“I thought we were friends, too,” Night said. He acknowledged people here and there in the gym with a wave or a nod. “But that was before I found out you played a part in sabotaging my building in the Ladera Heights mall.”

“I what?” Jazz asked incredulously.

“Oh, please. Don’t even try it. I know what good
friends
you and Brad are. Do you want me to believe you had nothing to do with the sudden complications that cropped up regarding getting the sale finalized?”

Jazz stood in between Night and his door after he got into his car. “Night, I admit I know about the problems you’re having, but I swear I had nothing to do with them. Please don’t be mad at Brad for revealing confidential information but he’s how I know what happened. I coaxed the information out of him, swore to end our friendship if he didn’t tell me.”

Night’s smile was predatory. “I just bet you did. I can just about imagine your
coaxing
.”

Jazz stifled her anger. Now was not the time to lose her cool. She sidled up to Night and placed a soft hand on his hard arm. “I wasn’t responsible for your deal falling through,” she said softly. “But I’ll do whatever I can to be responsible for getting the sale back on track. If that’s what you want.”

Night sighed as he looked squarely at Jazz. There was no denying her sex appeal.

Jazz, believing in the effect she thought she was having, leaned into Night, her breast rubbing against Night’s firm biceps.

“What I want right now,” he said after a moment. “Is to leave the parking lot. Someone very special is waiting for me. And I’m late.”

Jazz could no longer hold her ire. His blatant dismissal of her was too much. “Fine,” she said, her chest heaving with each angry breath. “But understand this Night Simmons. You
will
come back to me. We are perfect for each other and you know it. And after you get through playing at the fat farm…you’ll be back.”

Night could feel the tension ebbing away from his neck and shoulder muscles as he turned onto the street of D’Andra’s apartment. She buzzed him into the building and he entered her place with the sounds of the Temptations’
My Girl.
He immediately put down the bottle of wine and bouquet of flowers he was holding, grabbed D’Andra around the waist and began twirling her around the room as he sang:

I don’t need no money, fortune or fame. I have all the riches baby doll, one man can claim…

D’Andra melted into Night’s arms, swaying and moving as if she were Ginger Rogers and he Fred Astaire. They danced until the song ended, and then shared a passionate kiss, their tongues moving and swirling as their bodies had done seconds before.

“What have you brought me?” D’Andra squealed as she broke their embrace. “Look at the flowers, Night. They’re beautiful. And how did you know how much I love crystal? The vase is perfect.”

She took the bowl of iris, larkspur and white roses, with similarly colored beads resting in the vase bottom, and placed them in the center of her living room’s coffee table. The colors blended perfectly with her purple, ice blue, silver and black color scheme.

“How’s your mother doing?”

“I just talked to Chanelle. She and Jackie just left and said she was still pretty much in and out of sleep. I plan to be there first thing in the morning.”

“Now aren’t you glad you took a personal day?”

“Yes, JaJuan Night Simmons. This is one order that I’m glad I followed.”

“So…we’re in for the night?”

D’Andra smiled. “Uh-huh.”

Night wriggled his eyebrows.

“Is sex always on your mind?”

“Only when I’m around you.” Night remembered his reaction to Jazz earlier and knew this statement to be true.

“So are you hungry?” D’Andra asked as she looked at the label on the bottle of wine. “Something to go with this Bordeaux?”

“Yes, I’m ready to eat,” Night replied. He walked over and did his favorite thing: cupping D’Andra’s ample yet increasingly firm bottom and pressing her to his manhood. “And everything I need to go with that bottle is right here.”

While Night took a shower, D’Andra rifled through her cabinets and came up with the fixings for a simple pasta dish. The single glass of wine that each of them had with dinner was the perfect complement. She scooped up the last piece of pasta, swirled it in the remaining tomato sauce and relished the bite. When she opened her eyes, it was to see near black irises boring into her hazel ones.

She licked her lips in anticipation, all too aware of what that look signaled. Night was going to ravish her. It was exactly what she needed.

He came around the table and took her hand. Instead of the bedroom, he walked into the living room where the Temptations had been replaced by Smokey Robinson and the Miracles talking about seconding an emotion.

“I didn’t know you liked old school,” he said as he lifted D’Andra’s top over her head.

“My mother is the fanatic,” D’Andra replied. “I put these CDs on because the sounds remind me of her.”

“Your mother has excellent taste,” he said, nibbling her neck, licking the sides of her mouth. “You taste good too.”

D’Andra returned the fervor of Night’s kiss, noting that his mouth tasted like the fine wine they’d just consumed. She stepped away from him to loosen the string on the black, baggy drawstring pants he now wore. They dropped to the floor. He wore no underwear.

“Oh my,” she said, as she wrapped her fingers around the large engorged head that sprang up its greeting. “It looks like you have something for me.”

Night didn’t answer but instead placed his fingers in the sides of D’Andra’s elasticized pants and pulled them down. He followed the pants down to the floor, placing his mouth directly in front of D’Andra’s throbbing womanhood. He began licking her through the sheer, pink panties she wore, placing his hands on her butt and pulling her even closer. D’Andra gasped even as Night commanded her to spread her legs.

She did as she was instructed and barely managed to remain upright as Night assaulted her senseless. He pulled her panties to the side for a more intimate exploration of her feminine treasure, his tongue probing, licking, his teeth nipping, teasing.

D’Andra’s legs turned to butter. “Night, please, I can’t…” She melted to the floor.

“Just where I want you,” Night said. He reached behind D’Andra and unlatched her bra. D’Andra’s vagina felt his absence immediately, and she instantly yearned for what threatened to be her undoing just seconds before. But her thoughts were quickly shifted as Night lifted a full, heavy breast and placed her hard, extended nipple into his mouth. He suckled her as if she were an aphrodisiac, his hands gently kneading and exploring the rest of her body as he gave first one nipple and then the other pleasure.

Just when D’Andra thought she could take no more he lifted his head, stood up and reached for her. D’Andra didn’t question, simply raised herself from the floor to greet him. Night walked toward her recently purchased pewter-and-tan-colored dining room set. On the way, he stopped and reached into his small traveling case for protection, and then proceeded to lead them to the dining area. He sat down in one of the straight-back yet comfortable wood-finished chairs.

He silently handed her the condom and whispered. “Put it on me.”

D’Andra smiled as she knelt down in front of Night’s masterpiece. She took his massive shaft into her hand and stroked it lovingly. But instead of putting on the condom, she placed as much of him as she could in her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip, her fingers tickling his heavy balls. Night’s groan was long and audible.

“Baby doll, doll…”

Emboldened by this power, D’Andra took him in as far as his gargantuan size allowed. She sucked him hard, his power rod lengthening even more. She increased the rhythm of her hand strokes along his shaft, as her head bobbed up and down and her tongue swirled to catch the love juices he emitted. Night placed his hand on the back of D’Andra’s head, pushing himself farther into her soft, moist oral cavity.

Now it was Night’s turn to call for surrender. “Baby, please, I’m getting ready to…”

D’Andra lifted her head and in one smooth movement protected them both. Then she straddled him and eased ever so slowly down on his pulsing piece of flesh. They both moaned this time, grinding into each other, their tongues matching the lower parts of their bodies, Night’s hands massaging D’Andra’s aching breasts as his mouth alternated between them and her mouth. He tried to take in the whole of her even as he arched up to reach the very core of her soul with his love sword. It was as if he were trying to draw her very essence into himself.

Their dance started off slowly and then quickened in pace as their ardor heightened. After several moments of D’Andra riding Night as if she were a jockey in the Kentucky Derby, Night lifted D’Andra and himself from the chair and while remaining connected to her, placed her up against the wall, held her leg in the crook of his arm and pounded into her relentlessly. D’Andra had never been a screamer but she soon realized the teeming sound coming into her ears was her own voice. Tears poured down her face as Night continued to unite their flesh, pulling out to the tip and then ramming deep, all the time whispering questions in her ear. “Is this good for you baby? Is this what you want? Where’s my love button, doll? Is it here?” He shifted to another angle and rammed deeper into her. “Is it here?”

D’Andra continued to moan, groan, scream and cry but Night wasn’t finished. He led her over to the couch, placed her on all fours and entered her from behind. He grabbed her cheeks and spread them wide, allowing himself access to all parts of her treasure. D’Andra’s breasts swayed back and forth as she matched his rhythm, pushing her butt even higher in the air for his easy access.

“Yes, Night. Yes! Yes!”

“Give me more, doll. I want it all. I want everything you’ve got. Now give it to me!”

He lifted her to the couch in an angle that allowed him to enter even more fully. D’Andra’s cries had dropped to a hoarse whimper. She continued to have one orgasm after another. Night’s hips moved at a frenzied pace as he neared his own release. When he finally exploded, propelling them both toward the heavens, D’Andra’s name was the one shouted from his lips.

The next morning, D’Andra left her Culver City condo and arrived at the hospital a little before ten o’clock. Several vases of flowers and a couple of green plants were placed on various surfaces throughout Mary’s semi-private room. The partially draped window let in shards of sunlight that danced across the pale green linoleum floor. For the moment Mary was alone, the patient in the bed beside her having been wheeled out for tests. D’Andra entered tentatively, quietly, not wanting to wake her mom if she were sleeping.

She stood at the foot of her mother’s bed watching her breathe. For the first time she fully took in the stress lines etched around her mother’s mouth, which stood out in juxtaposition to the excess fat hanging from her jaw and melting into her neck. Her mother’s stomach rose several inches higher than her head and the thin sheet could hardly hide the massive hips and thighs that lay beneath it. D’Andra swallowed her emotions and cleared her throat.

“Mama?” she almost whispered.

Mary’s eyes fluttered open. “I wasn’t asleep.”

D’Andra walked around to her mother’s side and gingerly sat on the edge of the bed. She brushed her hand across her mother’s forehead, then placed her fingertips on her mother’s wrist and took a quick pulse.

“Where is everybody?”

“You just missed them. They’re down in the cafeteria getting a bite to eat; Jackie and Karen, Boss, San and some new friend of hers, White man.”

“Aunt Karen’s here?” It had been a long time since D’Andra had seen Jackie’s mother. It touched her that she’d flown in from Vegas, where she lived.

“How are you doing, Mama?”

“Always the nurse, huh, D’Andra?”

“Yes, I guess so.”

“I never told you but I’m proud you’re a nurse.”

Mary was right. She’d never told her. The professing of this truth threatened to open the floodgate of tears that swam so near to the surface for D’Andra these days.

“Thank you for telling me, Mama. It means so much for me to hear you say that.”

“There’s so much I haven’t told you. But now…I think I should.”

D’Andra accurately guessed the reason behind Mary’s change of mind about opening up with her daughter. She’d found out earlier, through a phone call with Dr. Weinstein, that Mary would have to have open heart surgery, a triple bypass. While Dr. Weinstein tried to assure D’Andra the surgery was fairly routine, D’Andra was well aware of its severity. How routine could it be to cut into and open up one’s heart?

But she could tell her mother was still very weak. The voice that usually boomed now spoke just above a whisper. Maybe now was not the time. That’s what she told her mom.

“Maybe later, when you’re stronger,” she offered.

Mary shook her head. “What if later never comes?” When D’Andra started to protest she held up a weak hand. “They want to perform the operation as soon as possible and I’m believing that I’ll come through it with flying colors. But I’ll feel better going into that room if I’ve left nothing behind that remains unsaid. This conversation is long overdue.”

D’Andra waited as her mother tried to find a more comfortable position. She helped by shifting pillows and bringing the bed up to a more upright position. Now that the moment had arrived, D’Andra wondered just how much she really wanted to hear of what her mother planned to tell her. She’d just recently begun to reconcile herself to the fact that like thousands of other children she might never know her father and was in the process of trying to become okay with that idea.

“You and Cassandra were always so different,” Mary began again. “Not only in looks, but in personality too. You were and are the more serious and more compassionate one. Cassandra is more how I used to be—wild and rambunctious, giving in to the pleasures of the moment.

“She got something else from me that I wish she hadn’t. But it’s my fault because its how I raised both of you—to believe that all a man is good for is money.

“Around the time I got pregnant with you, I was seeing several different men, intimately. I’m not proud of this D’Andra, but at the time it’s what I did. I never had to work more than a part-time job because one would pay my rent, another my utilities, another my car payment, and so on and so forth. There’s not many pictures of me from those days but baby, I was the stuff. It wasn’t hard for me to get a man, just hard to keep one.

“But there was this one man that came on the scene that I fell hard for. He was nice-looking, hard-working, no nonsense, a man’s man if you know what I mean. He knew I was seeing other men and in the beginning he went along with it. But things quickly got serious and he told me that if I wanted to be with him, he’d have to be the only one. I told him if he was the only one we’d have to get married and he’d have to take care of me in the same way I was being taken care of by all the other men. He told me what he couldn’t give me in material things, he’d make up for in the way he loved me. And I believed him.

“Orlando was one of the men I was seeing and as much as I loved your father, I had a thing for Orlando as well. He was wild, like me, and provided the excitement I felt I was getting ready to give up by staying with this other man. I was ready to, mind you, because I was getting tired of the revolving door and wasn’t getting any younger. But it was still excitement that I knew I’d miss.

“Orlando was driving a truck then and he came into town the same day your father went out of town. He was going to some seminar for the sales job he had. I invited Orlando over for one more wild time before I gave up all the other men for your daddy. I told Orlando it was going to be the last time and we really whooped it up, drinking and smoking and carrying on. Then we went to bed. A little while later your father walked in on us in the middle of, well, you know. The seminar had been cancelled at the last minute and his boss had given his employees the day off. I’ll never forget it. He had a dozen red roses in one hand and a box of my favorite donuts in the other. He dropped them both as soon as he opened the door. I thought a fight was getting ready to break out but that didn’t happen. Instead, he just looked at both of us a long moment, and then turned and walked out the door. He never came back.”

A single tear rolled down Mary’s round cheek as she relived the agony of losing the only man she’d truly loved and the promiscuous past she’d long since left behind. D’Andra’s pain mirrored her mother’s. Yet having caught Charles directly in the act, she had a feeling of what her father must have been feeling as well.

“So how is it that Orlando thought he was my father?”

Mary took a sip of water and cleared her throat. She grimaced slightly and D’Andra caught it.

“Are you okay? Where are you hurting?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Maybe I should get the doctor.”

“I’m fine, D’Andra. I want to get this out.” She closed her eyes for a brief moment and then stared out the window as she continued. “Orlando knew how I felt about your father and felt bad that he’d been the one responsible for our break-up. Of course, the fault rested solely with me but Orlando chose to share the blame because he was there. He also knew your father; they’d been casual associates. They both rode motorcycles at the time and would see each other at the club or at some of the biker events. So even though I stopped seeing most of the other guys, I kept seeing Orlando. Eventually he moved in and shortly after that, I found out I was pregnant.

“At first he didn’t question that you were his. You favor me much more than your father, but there are definite attributes of his that you inherited. One of them is your strong, compassionate personality and another is your hard work ethic. But as you got older, Orlando did start questioning whether or not you were his child. By then I’d gone back to my old habits and had started seeing Cassandra’s father on the side.

“I’m not proud of this,” she repeated, as if her daughter needed convincing. “Cassandra’s father swept me off my feet with his good looks and smooth talk and even though he was married, I couldn’t resist the charm. When I got pregnant with San…that’s when Orlando left me. I only saw him occasionally after that and after he left town, moved to Chicago, I never saw him again.”

D’Andra’s heart pounded as she pondered the question she must ask, and ask she did. “What happened to my father?”

“He moved away for a while as well. I heard he’d moved to the east coast, I even think he spent time overseas. Then he came back here and found the type of woman he was trying to make me, one who acted like she had some sense. And when he found her, he married her.

“I wish I could say that’s all to the story but there’s one more part. When your father came back, I was determined to get him back. I went to him and told him I had a child by him. He wouldn’t listen for a second, didn’t want to know your name, see a picture, refused to even speak to me. I didn’t know it at the time but he’d gotten married. It didn’t matter. I still pursued him relentlessly. This was before tests and DNA and all of that stuff. He simply refused to believe he could be the father of my child and that was that. I can’t say I totally blamed him. Given my history he had every right to be skeptical.

“One day I ran into his wife at the store. One look and I could see she was pregnant. Things got ugly, real ugly. I ended up assaulting her physically, we ended up falling down on the sidewalk. The jut of the curb hit her in the abdomen. She later lost the baby.

“She didn’t press charges but looking back, she should have. It was a horrible thing I’d done and while I don’t know for sure what her doctors told her…in my heart I know I caused her to lose that child. And what’s worse, at the time, I was glad I did. Then the reality of what I’d done began to sink in. I caused a type of pain no mother should have to go through. To this day, I feel guilty. I don’t think your dad and her ever had a child together.”

D’Andra sat stunned. So this was the shame Orlando spoke about, why he’d asked her not to judge her mother too harshly.

“Orlando knew?”

Mary shrugged. “He may have heard about it. Like I said, he and your father knew some of the same people from the motorcycle club. It may be one of the reasons he washed his hands of me. At one point, I tried to get Orlando back, sent him messages through mutual friends we knew. But he had met someone in Chicago and let it be known that in no uncertain terms he was not interested. I fell into a deep depression for a while after that. For almost two weeks, I barely got out of bed.”

Although Mary spent a lot of time in the bedroom now, D’Andra couldn’t remember her doing so when she was a child. In fact, all through high school, she remembered her mother always on the go.

“So how did all this happen and I not remember?” D’Andra asked. “Your staying in bed, being depressed, I don’t recall any of this.”

A faint smile appeared on Mary’s face. “You can thank your Aunt Karen. Remember when you and San went to stay with her in Vegas that time, for about a month?”

D’Andra remembered it well. She’d turned nine years old that summer; Cassandra was six and Jackie was seven. It was hot as Hades but Aunt Karen brought an inflatable pool, some beach balls and snorkeling sets. They’d played in the pool all day, almost every day, and would come out with hair spongy as wool and skin shriveled as raisins. That month was one of D’Andra’s favorite childhood memories.

“Karen knew everything that had happened. She called me the day I found out Orlando got married. I was crying like a fool, talking crazy. She was concerned for me and even more for y’all; she knew it wasn’t healthy for you girls to see your mama all out of sorts. And I was a mess. So she and Ann worked together to get y’all down there. She bought the bus tickets and everything.”

D’Andra nodded, remembering when Dominque’s mother had taken them to the bus station. Dominque had cried because she couldn’t ride the bus too, even though at that time, they barely knew each other. It wasn’t until two years later that they became best friends. Then, D’Andra remembered something else.

“Mama, did you ever talk about this with Sam?”

Mary looked surprised. “Cassandra’s daddy? Yeah, why?”

“Remember that day you found me asleep in the closet? It was shortly after we returned from Vegas.”

Mary creased her brow, trying to remember. She finally shook her head no. “Y’all were always doing silly stuff. I probably didn’t pay it any attention.”

“Well, it was because I overheard a conversation, and you called someone a b-i-t-c-h. I think you might have been talking about this woman, but I thought you were talking about me. That’s why I hid.”

Mary’s eyes teared up once again. “D’Andra, I would never, ever do that!” Her voice softened. “But I must admit, there was a time I hated you. I’m so sorry, but I hated you because I
wanted
to be a part of your father’s life and you
are
a part of him. I’m so sorry!”

Mary cried openly now. D’Andra walked over, sat on the bed, and quietly rubbed her mother’s shoulders as the tears flowed.

“Shh, Mama, don’t do this to yourself. Don’t get any more upset than you are already.” D’Andra wrapped her hands around her mother’s arms and rocked her gently. Finally the crying stopped, but the tears still flowed.

The admission and deliverance of indescribable pain brought a pallor over the room and with it silence. It was almost a full five minutes before either of them spoke again.

“What’s my father’s name?” D’Andra asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Mary looked her daughter in the face and pronounced a name she’d rarely spoken aloud in decades. But it was time. Her daughter deserved to know.

“Johnson,” Mary said, feeling the weight lift from her conscience even as she uttered the name. “Your biological father’s name is Carter Johnson.”