Body By Night (26 page)

“Jazz? I thought that was you.” Marc came from behind her, Lindsay by his side.

“How are you doing, Jazz?” his wife said. “We almost didn’t recognize you.”

“That was the point,” Jazz said sarcastically.

“Too hard for you to resist, huh?” Marc asked, ignoring her caustic remark. “It can’t feel too good to see what Night has been able to accomplish, even after you tried to thwart his plans.”

“Yes, I wanted to see for myself the calm before the storm. Everything’s wonderful now. That’s not unusual for a business that’s just opened. Talk to me in six months, when I’m finished with my smear campaign. Then let’s see if you’re still gloating.”

Marc stepped to within inches of Jazz’s face. “Give it up, Jazz,” he said quietly but with veiled anger in his tone. “You’re a beautiful woman. Why don’t you move on, meet somebody new, get on with your life? It will be the best thing for all of us, but for you most of all.

“Now, tonight is a special night. I’m asking you nicely to leave the premises, but I’ll only ask once. After that you’ll be forcibly removed. Any questions?”

Jazz cut daggers at Marc, her fists clenching and unclenching in anger. She wanted to slap his smug face but knew such an action would draw the very type of attention she wanted to avoid.

“I was just leaving anyway you arrogant asshole. There’s no place for me in this room of losers.”

Marc and Lindsay shook their heads as they watched Jazz walk along the outer wall and out the door.

“Do you think she’ll really do it?” Lindsay asked. “Does she have something on Night that could potentially ruin his reputation?”

“All Jazz has is hot air and attitude,” Marc answered. “Come on, let’s see if you can keep up with me on the dance floor.”

As Marc passed Night, they chatted a few minutes. Marc assured him everything he’d requested had been handled. Satisfied, Night talked to a few more people before searching out D’Andra, who was relaxing with Chanelle and Connie in the classroom.

“Excuse me ladies, but I need to borrow this pink confection for a moment. It’s time to get our midnight workout on, baby.”

“Let’s take the night off,” D’Andra countered, not moving. “Connie’s only going to be here one more day and we still haven’t caught up. Plus, the last time I was out there all the machines were taken anyway.”

“That’s no problem,” Night answered. He walked over, took D’Andra’s hand and gently pulled her out of the chair. “I’ve got a connection with the owner and he’s reserved two treadmills side by side with our names on them. I figured we could do an easy ten minutes, like we did the first day I met you.”

“Aw, you’re such a sweetheart,” D’Andra answered as she remembered that day around eight months ago, when she almost passed out after only a few minutes of slow walking. “I’ll gladly join you, especially if we can put the pace where it was when I started this journey.”

“A piece of cake for you now, huh babe?” Night kissed D’Andra on the cheek.

A few onlookers applauded as Night and D’Andra took their places on the treadmill, but after a couple minutes everybody was back to doing their own thing. D’Andra and Night chatted easily, but after a couple minutes settled into enjoying the walk and watching any one of three channels playing on the dozen flat screen TVs placed throughout the room.

They had almost finished their ten minutes when the flat screens suddenly went out, the crisp color pictures replaced by gray snow.

D’Andra looked at Night. “Oh no, baby. What happened?”

Night’s brow creased as he looked and saw that every single television showed the same snowy picture. He stopped his treadmill and got off. “Let me go investigate,” he said. “But you,” he continued in an authoritative tone, “don’t you stop until you’ve given me the full ten.”

D’Andra rolled her eyes as she placed her hands back on the treadmill bar.
He’s so bossy
, she thought, and that’s why she loved him. It was his drive, determination and dedication to her getting in shape that inspired her to meet the expectations. And now, here she was, living the life she’d envisioned as she looked into the fluorescent lights of MLK Hospital’s emergency room ceiling. She had her health, her mother was well and she’d found her father. Her relationship with Cassandra was better than at any time in their lives and she was in love with the man of her dreams. And in just three short weeks, she would go from full to part-time at Heavenly Haven. The rest of the time she would work as a trainer and nutritional consultant at Night’s gym. She couldn’t think of anything that would make her happier than she was right now.

D’Andra looked at the television screens and noticed that Night had switched them from cable to the built-in camera system he’d installed so that at various times people could see themselves working out on television. Good move, she thought. People would enjoy this bit of electronic wizardry while Night worked to fix the problem with their satellite dish.

She looked down at the timer on her treadmill: one minute to go. When she looked up at the screens, there were weird, psychedelic colors flashing. Soon everyone, like her, was staring at the screens. And then they went black.

Oh no, D’Andra thought as she stepped off the treadmill. She was about to turn around when she saw her name begin flashing on the screens: D’Andra, D’Andra, all over again. And then this message:

Oh cute, real cute
, D’Andra thought. Night always loved his toys and was obviously playing with the computer hook-up also connected to the flat screen TVs. It didn’t matter. She hadn’t even broken a sweat during the first ten minutes and since the celebration was winding down and most of her personal friends gone, she didn’t mind following his command…this time.

She set the timer for ten more minutes and began walking at a little faster pace. Night soon joined her on the other treadmill.

She looked at the screen, still flashing crazy colors. “What are you doing? You’re just going to leave the screen like that?”

“Marc is working on it,” Night responded. “I told him I had to get back to my number one client.” He winked at D’Andra.

They both continued walking and then the flat screens went blank again, just like the first time.

“Damn,” Night said, but kept walking.

“You think Marc might need you back there?” D’Andra asked.

“In a minute.”

They both turned back to the now black screens. The psychedelic colors began flashing on the screens again, and then the word: D’Andra, D’Andra…

“Oh, oh…somebody forgot to press delete,” she said, laughing.

Night smiled and kept walking.

“D’Andra, D’Andra,” the blinking message said. “I love you, I love you,” it continued. “Will you marry me?” The blinking stopped and those words stayed etched on the screen, all twelve screens around the room. Suddenly the blaring music dimmed, replaced by the familiar guitar beginning to the Temptations classic, “My Girl.”

Somebody on the far side of the room started clapping. Soon others joined in. D’Andra, who’d stopped her treadmill, stood staring at the words, wondering if what she thought she was reading was actually on the screens. She looked at Night, who by now was grinning broadly. He stopped his treadmill, climbed down from it and got on his knees next to D’Andra’s.

“You are the dollhouse I dreamed of,” he said. “And together, we can turn my house into a beautiful home. I love you, D’Andra. Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” D’Andra literally fell into Night’s arms. He staggered back before regaining his balance, lifting her from the ground and twirling her around.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she repeated with joy.

When they stopped and enjoyed a tongue-driven kiss in front of everyone, the cheers broke out in earnest.

“Take off your clothes,” Night demanded. He and D’Andra were alone in the now empty gym. They were back in the sauna room, but the heat wasn’t on.

D’Andra’s hands trembled as she reached for the edges of her shirt, to pull it over her head. She kept her eyes locked with Night’s as she undid her bra, freeing her melon orbs. Night licked his lips. Her nipples hardened immediately, as they always did under his intense gaze.

“Now the pants,” he demanded. He leaned back against the sauna’s back bench and spread his legs to give his lengthening member room to grow. His fingers itched to massage the heavy breasts gently swaying in front of him. He knew their softness, could hear the moans his touch would cause. But he stayed seated.

D’Andra stepped out of her pants and began to pull down her lacy pink thong.

“No, leave that on. Now come and lay down on this cover.”

D’Andra did as she was told, fully aware that Night was drinking in the sight of her backside as she passed him. He confirmed her thought by squeezing her cheek gently as she passed by. She lay faceup on the cover, with one foot planted on the floor and her other leg folded at the knee. Even though it was narrow, the bench was more comfortable than she thought, especially with the comforter Night had thoughtfully brought along. This seduction was obviously pre-planned and had, along with the engagement, been well thought out.

“Close your eyes.”

D’Andra complied and soon after she did, she felt the slightest hint of Night’s tongue on the ball of her foot. She gasped. Night continued a leisurely journey up her ankles to the calves of her leg, first one and then the other. He slowed down when he reached her sensitive spot, a place on the backside of the bend in her knee. D’Andra’s moans began low in her throat. Night continued his tongue bath to her inner thighs, and then on to her navel, stomach and then buried his head between her two golden mounds before pushing them together and lavishing attention on her dark brown nipples. D’Andra moaned louder this time.

After a couple deep kisses, Night retraced the steps of his previous journey, stopping at the breasts, the stomach. Then he straddled the bench and put his hand underneath D’Andra’s knee. He lifted her legs and spread them wide, giving him open access to her golden paradise. He took full advantage of this freedom, his tongue parting her folds and licking her with relish. He took his job seriously, making sure that every crevice of her body received his full attention. By now, D’Andra was beside herself, her former moans becoming soft screams. Night took her to the edge and then over, and her scream became louder as she reached a seismic orgasm.

“We’re just beginning,” Night said. “Stand up.”

D’Andra could barely hear. She was still trying to get back into her body, having sworn her spirit had left it and raced to the heavens in the moment before. She swore she saw Venus and maybe Mars. She knew she saw stars and just as she began to regain her bearings, she remembered the dream she’d had so long ago, of her and Night in the sauna, which with the exception of the heat not being on, was a moment just like this.

“Stand up,” Night repeated.

D’Andra did so and was led to a rectangular cushion on the side of the room. That wasn’t there before, she thought as she watched Night spread the comforter over it and motion her forward. They knelt down on the soft, downy material together and proceeded to give each other pleasure before falling asleep. They woke up as the first rays of daylight streaked across the night sky.

“Come on, baby doll. The morning crew will be here in an hour. I don’t have a problem with it, but I’m sure this is not how you want them to find us.”

D’Andra stretched, yawned, and sleepily found and put on her clothes. Night straightened the area, sprayed air freshener and turned on the rocks, generating steam for his first customers and making sure that no signs of the lovers’ rendezvous remained for the morning crew to discover.

“Leave your car here, ride home with me,” Night said as he steered D’Andra past her Suburban to his Acadia.

“You sure are bossy,” she said with a yawn.

“Just like you like it,” he responded.

D’Andra looked back toward the gym as Night drove out of the parking lot. The fluorescent sign looked especially good, framed as it was in the cover of darkness. She thought of Connie’s comment about her newly slim body and smiled. Because of her friend’s words the sign would forever have new meaning to D’Andra, and as they drove toward Inglewood D’Andra was busy thinking of the surprise she would give to Night: a supply of T-shirts, mugs and other items to sell at his shop, emblazoned with the logo and the gym’s name:
Body by Night
.

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Maya fumed, the steady tapping of her foot an outward sign of her annoyance. The man standing five feet in front of her was taking forever at the ATM. On another, less harried day she might have welcomed the sight. He was tall, she guessed about six-two, broad-shouldered, with long, thick legs encased in jeans that emphasized nicely rounded, tight buns. She’d wondered what his face looked like until his transaction had taken longer than the sixty seconds she thought appropriate, considering the hurry she was in. As if Monday mornings weren’t busy enough, her assistant had phoned to inform her that Mr. Brennan was waiting on her in his office. Zeke rarely came into the office before 10:00 a.m. on Mondays; she couldn’t imagine the urgent matter that had changed his normally predictable schedule.

The stranger at the ATM looked at a receipt he’d retrieved from the machine, and began another transaction. Maya looked at her watch and sighed audibly, hoping the man would get the message.
Will you hurry up? Jeez!
She no longer cared about his attractive backside; he was making her late.

“Excuse me, but could you hurry? There’s a line,” Maya said in a firm, authoritative voice. The fact that she was the only one in line was beside the point.

The stranger stopped punching in information, looked up from the ATM screen, and slowly turned around. Maya breathed in quickly, and almost forgot to breathe out. The man was platinum fine, at least what she could see of him. He wore a Dodgers baseball cap and sunglasses, so she couldn’t really see his face. What she could see was mouthwatering: a strong, firm chin with perfectly groomed day-old stubble, a strong aristocratic-looking nose that tapered over the most delectable lips she’d ever seen in her life. A small cleft in his chin gave him a roguish air.

The stranger’s mouth turned up in a slightly amused grin. Maya realized she was staring at the man’s lips and tried to regain her composure. She slowly exhaled, set her shoulders back, tilted her head slightly, and continued in her best authoritative tone. “Are you finished?”

The smile deepened in the stranger’s face. “Are you?”

His teeth were straight and white and lit up Maya’s heart like a fluorescent lightbulb. She looked briefly at his chest, slightly exposed by two open buttons, revealing a light layer of curly black hair. Maya blinked her eyes, tried to get her mind to work. She couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her, what about this man had her so flustered. She figured it must be the phone call making her nervous, the phone call that said her boss was upstairs, waiting.

That thought shook Maya from inactivity. “Look, I’m in a hurry. Are you done?”

Maya watched the smile fade from the stranger’s face and she could tell his eyes were intense, even hidden as they were behind dark glasses. He shrugged, turned to the machine, canceled his transaction, retrieved his card, and stepped away from the machine.

“It’s all yours,” he said, unsmiling.

Maya hurriedly conducted a transfer and retrieved two hundred dollars from the ATM, all the while aware that she was being watched. She tried to forget about the stranger as she stuffed the bills into her purse, retrieved her card, and headed toward the elevator. She’d glimpsed the stranger step back up to the ATM after she walked away and couldn’t help but consider what he’d done chivalrous. She also found herself wondering what was hidden behind the ball cap and dark shades.

There was little time to ponder that though; duty called. She phoned her brother to tell him she had transferred money into his account, and that it was the last time she was going to rescue him from his irresponsible actions. He was her beloved twin brother and all the family she had left in the world. The night before her mother died, Maya had promised to watch after him. All of eight minutes older than Stretch, she’d always been the sensible one, he the rebel. But she couldn’t continue to clean up the messes he made. It was time for somebody to man up.

As soon as the elevator doors opened onto the penthouse floor of Brennan & Associates, thirty-three stories above the hustle and bustle of downtown Los Angeles, Maya was all corporate business. She bypassed the luxurious break room and her roomy corner office, not even stopping to put down her purse or briefcase. She’d been summoned by Zeke Brennan. And when Zeke called, people came running—quickly.

“Good morning, Zeke,” Maya said. She’d called him “Mr. Brennan” the first three years of her employment. But last year, when she was promoted from first assistant to executive assistant, working directly with Mr. Brennan on a daily basis, he had told her it was okay to call him Zeke. She only did so when they were alone, however. Whenever clients or other staff was around, he was still “Mr. Brennan.”

“Maya,” Zeke replied simply, shuffling through papers on his desk.

“You’re here early,” Maya said. She sat down in a chair opposite him, set down her purse, and opened her briefcase to retrieve a pen and notepad. Sensing Zeke was in no mood for chitchat, she remained quiet, waiting. She casually scanned the immaculate office: an exquisite blend of African mahogany and stainless steel. The floor-to-ceiling windows covered the east wall, giving Zeke an uninterrupted view of not only downtown, but miles beyond, into Orange County. Unlike the rest of the carpeted offices, the CEO office’s floors were a rain-forest-brown marble, imported from India. Matching, maroon suede area rugs under his massive desk and the large conference table on the office’s opposite side warmed both the floor and the room, as did the freshly cut bouquet of bird-of-paradise, yellow callas, reddish orange amaryllis, and vibrant blue mokaras, set in Tiffany crystal, and adorning the middle of the stately table for ten. Maya had been a key player in the office’s redesign; and the weekly delivery of freshly cut exotic flowers created especially for the executive office was her idea. She noted that the cleaning team had done an exceptional job, as she demanded. There was not a speck of dust, or a paper out of place. She was pleased.

Zeke opened a folder and took out another document. He handed it to Maya. “Ever heard of this company?”

Maya’s attention immediately returned to business. She took the paper from him, scanning it quickly. It provided scant details of an investment company, S.W.I., International, from London, England. Their holdings were listed at an impressive twenty billion, with properties on all seven continents. Several personnel were listed, one of them highlighted, a Mr. Sam Walters.

Maya shook her head, handing the paper back to Zeke. “No, I haven’t. But it seems as if I should have, they’re impressive.”

“I thought the same thing,” Zeke said, rising from his chair and walking over to look out the window. “How did a company of this size and with this reach elude my radar? Unless…” Zeke turned to Maya and continued. “Unless this is a new company being developed under an old, established investment company, created to keep the competition in the dark about who’s actually buying what.”

Maya knew this was a definite possibility. Investors weren’t known for shouting their transactions from proverbial rooftops. Research was one of Maya’s fortes, and what had led to a bachelor’s degree with honors. And she loved a challenge. “You want me to find out more about them?” she asked, already making a list of various resources she could tap for information.

“Actually, I want you to find out more about
him,”
Zeke said, this time handing Maya a photo with a name highlighted at the bottom. “Sam Walters.”

“Me?” Maya knew Zeke employed men and women from various occupations, geographical areas, communications and background check companies, etc., to research competitors and others’ histories. What could she possibly do that a professional background check company couldn’t?

Zeke smiled for the first time that morning. He sat down in the chair next to Maya instead of behind his desk. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. I’ve done the background checks, reviewed the buzz on this guy, and he comes up legit, a land developer who made billions redeveloping for the rich in Africa. Sold his company and is now looking to expand his land ownership portfolio, primarily in the large metropolises of the United States.”

“So what do you think I can find out that your people couldn’t?” The guy sounded legit to Maya too, so much so that if not for her professionalism, she’d ask if he was married.

“I don’t know,” Zeke responded. “It’s just a feeling I have, a gut instinct, that all’s not how it looks with Mr. Walters. He comes out of nowhere, no one knows about him over here…”

“Did you ask Mr. Trump?” Zeke and Donald Trump were golfing buddies, and had also participated in several joint real estate ventures.

“He doesn’t know him either. Knows about the parent company, though, the one we think is serving as an umbrella for S.W.I.”

“So how can I help?”

Zeke leaned forward, choosing his words carefully. “I need someone to get on the inside of this company, to get close to Sam Walters, someone who has the smarts to obtain confidential information and the savvy to pull off the duality this job will require. In short, I want to find out if this Sam Walters is really who he says he is.”

Maya frowned. “I don’t understand. Do you think this man isn’t the
real
Sam Walters, or do you think there is no Sam Walters at all?”

“I’m not sure what I think,” Zeke answered. “But what I know is that my gut instincts have guided me accurately for over forty years, and something…” he paused to look at Sam’s photo, “is wrong with this picture.”

Maya studied the photo again. “So you want me to try and get a job at”—she looked again at the paper—“S.W.I. Company?”

“Not exactly.”

Maya was still confused. Was Zeke asking her to try and date this Mr. Walters? That had actually been the first thing that came to mind when Zeke mentioned “getting close.”

“Ahem, how do you suggest I get close to Mr. Walters?” Maya was usually very comfortable talking with Zeke, even when discussing multimillion- and billion-dollar business deals. Now, however, was not one of those times.

“Well, I’m certainly not going to ask you to sleep with him,” Zeke said, once again reading her thoughts.

“Was I that obvious?” Maya asked, relaxing.

“No, I’m that smart,” Zeke countered lightly, before turning serious. “I do want you to become a part of his household, though, and I’ve got it all prepared, all worked out.”

“How do you propose I do that?” Maya asked, confused once more.

Zeke hesitated and then answered, “As his maid.”