Body By Night (8 page)

“Thank you,” D’Andra said, and she meant it. “And please, please forgive me for the comment earlier. It was totally out of line and I apologize.”

“It’s already forgotten. What time are you going to Bally’s this weekend?”

“Um, I don’t know.”
Whatever time you’re not there.
Seeing him two days a week was torture enough, especially in the private confines of his home. She had accepted that for the foreseeable future she’d be alone, until she got herself together. There was no use pretending she wasn’t attracted to the man. No use flirting with danger.

“Then I’ll see you for sure next Tuesday.”

“Yep, see you then.”

“I look forward to it, D’Andra. Looks like we’re in similar places in our lives; you’re focused on getting healthy, and I’m focused on making people healthy with my own gym. And I don’t know about you, but I could use a good friend right about now. What do you say?” He lifted his water bottle in a toast. “To friendship?”

D’Andra lifted hers in response. “To friendship.” She refused to examine the heaviness that replaced the thrill in her heart. Because she knew if she looked into truth, she’d have to admit that she wanted Night to be more of a FWB—a friend with benefits. And personal training wasn’t the benefit she had in mind.

D’Andra awoke to a steady thump, thump sound followed by a drone of chatter. At first she thought it was her neighbor, and then she realized the muted yet very discernible hip-hop beats were playing in her house. She threw back her comforter and stomped up the stairs to the bedrooms on the second floor. Her bedroom door was locked.

“Cassandra! Cassandra! Why do you have this door locked? Turn that music down and open this door!”

The music kept playing. D’Andra kept knocking. She was livid. Cassandra knew D’Andra slept between eight-thirtyish and three, and then took another short nap, if she was tired and could grab it, right before going to her eleven P.M. shift. The living room clock read two-thirty P.M. Their mother obviously wasn’t home. Loud rap music was the one thing Mary Smalls didn’t allow, not even from her favorite daughter.

“Cassandra!”

The music stopped abruptly. “There. Damn. Your knocking is ten times louder than the music was.”

“You know this is my sleep time. Where’s Mama?”

There was a pause before Cassandra answered.

“Cassandra!”

“She’s at the casino, now leave me alone.”

D’Andra jiggled the door knob. “What are you doing with the door locked, San? This is still my room with my stuff in there, remember? Why are you trippin’? Open the stupid door!”

D’Andra stood staring at the door as if it held some answers. It was petty stuff like this that kept unnecessary drama going on in the house. It was enough that her mother had asked her to give up her room for her sister and her sister’s kids. But honestly, D’Andra hadn’t minded that. Especially when she thought it was only for a month or so. But what little D’Andra had asked for in return—peace and quiet during the day, help with the housework, and not to be mistaken for a live-in babysitter on the weekends—was being ignored with more and more regularity.

At least the house is quiet,
she thought, as she turned to walk back downstairs. Quiet enough for her to hear a bass sound that had not come from the stereo speakers.
No, that heifa is not screwing somebody in my room!

D’Andra tried to stay calm as she walked back up the stairs. “Cassandra, I know you haven’t brought a man into this house, in my room, on my bed.”

“Whatever, D’Andra; get away from the damn door. I’m not going to open it. I’ve turned off the music, now leave me alone!”

Cassandra wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that she was talking to someone, and he was not on the phone. “She’s always been jealous of me just because I can keep a man and she can’t. Gets on my damn nerves.”

“Keep
a
man?” D’Andra yelled through the door, leaving the insinuation hanging in the air. “Your
mother
shares this house and your
kids
share that room. Show some respect.”

As if to drive the point home, the front door opened and Kayla, home from school, bounded inside. D’Andra blew out a long frustrated breath. “Your daughter’s home,” she said low enough so the child wouldn’t hear. “Figure out how you’re going to introduce her to your company.”

By the time she returned downstairs, a headache was announcing its arrival, partly due to the stress, and partly due to the fact she hadn’t eaten all day. She walked straight to her purse for the Tylenol, and into the kitchen for a glass of water.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” she said to the yellow-colored kitchen walls.

“You leavin’, Aunt Dee?” Kayla asked. “Can I go with you?”

D’Andra looked into the shining, excited eyes of her sister’s spitting image. She prayed their physical appearance was all they had in common. It seemed so; Kayla was sweet and even-tempered, helping more around the house than her sister and mother put together. If not for her work schedule, she’d almost consider taking Kayla with her when she moved.

She bent down and gave her niece a hug and kiss. “No, sweetie. I’m not going anywhere. Not right now.”

“Can I go with you when you leave?”

“I’ll be going to work then, Kayla. Work is for grown folk, remember?”

“I can work,” Kayla boasted proudly. “I help you cook, and the other day I did the dishes all by myself.”

Yeah, probably because your trifflin’ Mom was up in my bed screwing,
is what D’Andra thought. “That’s a big girl, Kayla. I’m proud of you,” is what she said.

D’Andra had just poured Kayla a glass of orange juice when she heard bodies coming down the stairs. She braced herself for the confrontation. Instead, she heard the front door close.

Oh no she didn’t,
D’Andra thought. “Kayla, go with your mother.”

“Where is she?”

D’Andra grabbed her niece’s arms and scurried to the front door. “Run, baby, go with your mother.”

As she’d expected, Cassandra wasn’t alone. She and a tall, good-looking man with baggy jeans and a hat on sideways were getting into a shiny, black Infiniti. Kayla ran up to her mother, who tried to send her back.

“She’s going with you,” D’Andra yelled. “You know I’ve got to work and I am not going to watch her. I’m not playing, San. Take your child!”

“We’re just going to Mickie D’s!”

“Good, get Kayla a Happy Meal!”

D’Andra slammed the door on Cassandra’s comeback, plopped down on the sofa bed and pulled the covers over her head. She was so angry she could hardly think straight. Her sister had thought only about herself as far back as D’Andra could remember. Cassandra thought she was the sun and the world revolved around her. And for most of her life it had, with D’Andra being just one of the planets twirling at her bidding. But no more.

Cassandra’s whine preceded her inside the door. “C’mon, DeeDee. Watch Kayla for me. Just fifteen minutes, I swear.”

“No.”

The childhood nickname Cassandra used, the one that used to melt D’Andra into doing whatever was asked, had no effect.

“Girl, you know you love your niece. We’ll pick you up something at McDonald’s. What do you want?”

D’Andra looked at her sister as if for the first time. This woman had nerve like Kobe had game.
Did she not just screw her man in my bed, lock me out of my room and curse me for wanting to get in? Now she wants to bring me a sandwich?

D’Andra took the covers away from her face. “Where are the twins?”

“With Jackie.”

“Then take Kayla over there.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Cause I haven’t told baby boy out there about the twins. He thinks I only have Kayla.”

“You’re a trip, San.”

Cassandra was losing patience and it showed in her voice. “Are you going to watch her?”

“What part of the word
no
don’t you understand?”

“Forget you, you old cow. Soon as baby out here gets paid you’re gonna wish you’d have done what I asked you.”

“No, soon as
baby out there
gets paid you can get your nasty butt out of my room. And while you’re at it, count how many times you’ve done what I asked you!”

D’Andra turned over in a “talk to the butt” gesture.

Cassandra was momentarily stunned. D’Andra never said no to her. “Bitch,” she mumbled, as she walked out of the house.

“Yeah,” D’Andra whispered with a smile on her face.
But this bitch is in the house without your kids.
Standing up for herself felt good. She could get used to it.

Try as she could to get back to sleep, after an hour sleep still eluded her. D’Andra got up and went over to the computer to log on to her e-mail account. Along with the usual spam, a couple forwards from Elaine and a promotion from Bally, was an e-mail from Peoplesearch.com. D’Andra’s heartbeat quickened as she clicked on the link:

D’Andra deleted the mail without finishing it. She hadn’t done anything with the information she’d already been given. She tried to convince herself it was because of the stress of the job compounded with her new workout routine, but she knew she was lying. It was fear, plain and simple, behind the fact that the printout containing information on Orlando Dobbs was still stashed away in a zippered compartment of her purse.

She reached down for the purse beside her and pulled out the paper. Staring at it for one long moment, she reached for the phone. Before she could think or change her mind, she punched in the area code and phone number for the Chicago address. A somewhat dry female voice was on the answering service, instructing the callers to leave their name and number at the sound of the tone. D’Andra left a brief message and then dialed the Florida listing.

“Hello?” a gruff voice answered.

“Uh, hello. May I speak to a Orlando Dobbs?”

“Who’s calling?”

“My name is D’Andra Smalls.” D’Andra gave her last name figuring that if the person on the other end was indeed her father, it would mean something.

There was a short pause, during which D’Andra didn’t breathe.

“This is Orlando,” the voice said finally.

“Orlando Dobbs?”

“Is this some bill collector or something because if it is, I don’t owe you nothing!” The man grumbled unintelligibly, then belched.

D’Andra hurried on, afraid he’d hang up. “No, not at all. I’m sorry that I’m nervous. You see…”

Her voice trailed off. Suddenly D’Andra was second-guessing her actions. Did she have the right to waltz into someone’s life and potentially turn his world upside down? Was she sure she wanted to know the man who was her father? Then she remembered the very legitimate, valid reasons for finding this side of her family. She took a deep breath and pressed on.

“My mother’s name is Mary Smalls and she dated Orlando Dobbs about thirty years ago. I believe that man is my father and I’m trying to find him.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Mary who?” he asked when he finally spoke.

“Mary Smalls.”

“She live here in Jacksonville?”

“No, she lives in Los Angeles. That’s where they dated, and where I was born and raised.”

The sigh on the other end was audible. “Well, no, then that ain’t me. My name is Orlando, and I dated a woman named Mary long time ago. But the only time I was in California was when I served in the Navy and was stationed in San Diego. That was almost forty years ago, and I ain’t been back since.”

“Okay then. Well, thank you for your time.”

The gruff voice softened unexpectedly. “No problem. I hope you find your daddy.”

The call to New Jersey met with yet a different result.

“I’m looking for an Orlando Dobbs? My name is D’Andra Smalls, and he was friends with my mother, Mary.”

“What the hell I know about who Orlando was friends with?” the testy woman on the other line exclaimed. “Only thing one of his friends can do for me is pay me back the five hundred dollars I spent to get his ass out of jail two months ago. Drinking and driving, his second D.U.I. I told his ass I wasn’t gonna keep bailing him out. The only reason I did it this time was because I needed my car fixed. It might take him a fifth of Tanqueray and a case of Budweiser but that man sure can fix a car. Now who you say you was?”

D’Andra quickly relayed her story.

“Well, now, I ain’t trying to burst yo bubble but if’n Orlando is your daddy, the best thing he did was leave you alone, child. His ass ain’t been nothin’ but trouble since I met him and we been together almost twenty years. Got four kids here he don’t half see. He find out somebody in California asking about him, he liable to show up on your doorstep with a mouth full of lies and a wallet that ain’t got shit, trying to con you out of what you got.”

It was a long shot, but D’Andra gave her contact information anyway, along with her mother’s name and the time frame when they would have dated. The woman had her wait while she got a pen. D’Andra only hoped she actually wrote something down. If this no good, Tanqueray-drinking, car-fixing jailbird was her father, at least she’d know.

That piece of work done, D’Andra clicked on a few apartment sites and printed out a couple possibilities within her budget. She hadn’t broached the subject of moving with her mother yet, and hoped she would be a bit more encouraging than she was about her exercising, or finding her dad. Not that her mother’s opinion would change anything. The wheels of change had started rolling downhill, and D’Andra, though a little scared and a lot confused, was enjoying the ride.