I Left My Back Door Open

I Left My Back Door Open

by April Sinclair
I Left My Back Door Open

I Left My Back Door Open

by April Sinclair

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Overview

Chicago deejay Daphne "Dee Dee" Dupree is sassy and successful—but a series of catastrophic relationships has left her gun-shy. Now with her own life and the lives of those closest to her seemingly coming apart at the seams, she's going to have to leave the safe cocoon of her broadcasting booth to face her world, her secrets, and a new promise of mature love fearlessly and head-on.


Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780380732807
Publisher: HarperCollins
Publication date: 01/30/2007
Series: Harper Perennial
Pages: 304
Product dimensions: 5.31(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.68(d)

About the Author

April Sinclair's debut novel, Coffee Will Make You Black, was named Book of the Year (Young Adult Fiction) for 1994 by the American Library Association and received the Carl Sandburg Award from the Friends of the Chicago Public Library. A Chicago native, she now lives in Berkeley, California.

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

I am not young, or thin, or white or beautiful. I'm a slightly thick sista, but I know how to fix myself up. And I'm on the radio. My name is Daphne Dupree, and I play the blues.

I liked everything about speaking into a mike. I even enjoyed positioning my mouth in front of one. And I loved the way my voice sounded, so rich and full, when it came out. Maybe I just liked to hear myself talk.

"We opened the set with the incomparable Etta 'Miss Peaches' James doing 'At Last.' That was by special request from Dianne, a blue-eyed soul sister who knows that when you make a potato salad, you don't leave out the mustard.

"Speaking of food, we're gonna be broadcasting live from Taste of Chicago, in Grant Park next Saturday. I hope to see some of my listeners. You know I'm gon' sho' 'nuff be tastin', too. 'Cause, honey, there's no such thang as a black anorexic!" I laughed. "You heard it here first."

I kept right on b.s.in,' 'cause I was on a roll. And I was in control. "Y'all remember, last year, my boyfriend didn't hit me, but he up and quit me? Yeah, he said, 'Dee Dee you too big,' sho' did. The brotha didn't 'preciate my meat. He wasn't no natchel man. Finally had to tell 'im, I was built for comfort, not for speed!"

I paused for air. "You know, it's funny, there was a time when a skinny woman was almost looked at as deformed. She damn near had to run away and join the circus." I sighed. "When I was a child, nobody wanted the woman with the skinny legs And don't let her have the nerve to be flat-chested, with no booty too. You had to have something to shake back in them days."

I noticed a lighted button. "I got a callcoming in on the board. Somebody out there must be feeling my pain."

"Girlfriend, you need to come on back home to the soulful South Side," the voice on the line urged.

"It sounds like my friend, Sarita."

"Yeah, it's me, girl. Anyway, it's plenty of men on the South Side who like full-figured women.'

"Sista, you say I'm just dealing on the wrong side of town? You think that's what it is?"

"I know that's what it is. You drive around the South Side, and you see big behinds everywhere. And it ain't keeping nobody from getting no man, or putting on no pair of shorts, either."

"Big behinds are all over the North Side, too," I insisted. "You need to get out more. Big behinds are everywhere now, and they come in all colors. And they're coming to a theater near you.'

"Girl, you crazy! We don't have no theaters around here. I'm calling you from the 'hood."

"It was just an expression."

"Anyway, Dee Dee, you need to come on back to church, 'cause, honey, there're plenty of women heavier than you. In fact, they'd run and bring you a plate of food, girlfriend. Try to fatten you up."

"All right, I'll be in your church on Sunday. So save me some pew. And give some sugar to my play nephew. I just can't help but rhyme, almost every time."

"Okay, then, you put on Koko Taylor for your good girlfriend."

"A request for the reigning Queen of the Blues is always good news! But, first, it's time for the tips, and I'll shoot 'em from the hips. If you want your holiday to be a blast, when you barbecue, put your sauce on last. You can baste it with vinegar, you can baste itwith beer. But, Koko fixin' to pitch a "Wang Dang Doodle" then I'm outta here! That concludes this edition of Deep Dish Blues on WLUV, 98.6 on your FM dial. And I'm your hostess with the mostest, Dee Dee Joy, born in Alabama and raised in Illinois."

I'd taken off my headphones and unglued my hips from the one-size-don't-fit-all swivel chair. Jade was at the mike now. I listened to her sultry voice as I sauntered through the air-conditioned state-of-the-art studio on Chicago's waterfront.

"Welcome to the world of Belly," Jade said mysteriously, in her Chinese accent. "Slip on your finger cymbals. Toreador your veils. Put your camels to bed. We've got two hours of Egyptian pop ahead."

I swayed to the beat as I entered the spacious but deserted reception area. My ears were filled with the moaning of Egyptians, but my eyes were drawn to the view of the cluster of boats navigating the lake. Outside the picture windows, people strolled along the water's edge or sat in open-air cafés. On summer nights like this one, a jazz band played below a Budweiser sign. Navy Pier was a tourist attraction, pure and simple. But I admired the colorful Ferris wheel lit up against the darkening sky.

Suddenly, I felt someone's presence and my body jumped. I turned around. It was Rob, the station manager. He looked like Mike Moore, the guy who made the movie Roger and Me.

"I didn't mean to startle you," Rob said, apologetically.

"I didn't know you were still here," I answered.

"Yeah, I'm still pushing papers." Rob sighed. "Anyway, I gotyour memo, " he continued. "But, guess what, you don't have toworry about doing that stinking fund-raiser this year, you're off thedamn hook"

"I didn't mind doing it," I answered. "It was for a good cause. Besides, I can think of worse things than emceeing an event at the Four Seasons. Plus, they've always requested me."

"Yeah, and all these years you've been a trouper." Rob patted me on the shoulder.

"Well, what happened?" I asked, confused. "Have they decided not to do it this year? It was always so successful..."

What People are Saying About This

Dorothy Allison

April Sinclair is an extraordinary storyteller.
— Author of Bastard Out of Carolina

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