Page 7

“Morning,” I mumbled.

“Damn. Is that how you treat your customers?”

“How can I help you, sir?” I asked, knowing that his silly ass was known to make a scene.

Even if no one else was there, I didn’t want him showing out in front of my staff. I wanted him out of my store and out of my face.

“I just wanted you to know that I’m going into a rehab program,” he said, sliding a card across the counter.

“Good for you.”

“I’m doing it for us. Spending time with you is showing me the kind of man I don’t want to be. I want to be better for you.”

“You have to do something like that for yourself. You have to want better for you.”

“I do. I feel you.” He nodded.

“Good luck.”

“Can we have dinner before I leave?”

“When are you going?” I asked, partially considering his request.

It’s not like we’d never had dinner before. How much trouble could he get in over dinner?

“My flight is in the morning. They have a bed ready for me at a facility in Colorado,” he revealed.

I sighed and nodded before I had the chance to change my mind. Rehab might be just the thing he needed. When Sherrod was drinking, he was a totally different person.

“What time?”

“You let me know. I’m on your time, ma.”

“I guess about seven or eight. That will give me time to do everything I need to do today. I have a hair appointment at two.”

“Oh really? You know I love to see you with a fresh hairdo. Let me know what it costs so I can reimburse you.”

“Let you tell it, you love seeing me any kind of way.”

“That’s because I do. Should I pick you up?” he quizzed.

“You already know the answer to that.” I rolled my eyes.

“Can’t blame a nigga for trying. Pick a restaurant, and I’ll meet you there.”

My day went by without a hitch. Sherrod even sent me flowers to the store before I left. There was a card attached that read “See you at 8.” I was excited about the growth he would show once he worked out whatever issues had led him to his drinking problem.

With a fresh hairstyle and a sassy two piece set on, I headed to the steakhouse where I’d asked Sherrod to meet me. The salmon was fabulous. I had been looking for an excuse to get it. He’d called me at 7:30 p.m. to let me know that he was already there and seated.

I spotted him as soon as I walked in the restaurant. He looked good with his locs pulled back from his face. He was even dressed nice in a black button down instead of one of hismany plain white T-shirts. I smiled when he stood to pull my chair out.

“How you feeling, beautiful?” he asked as I sat down.

“I’m good. How are you feeling about tomorrow?”

“It is what it is.” He shrugged.

“Well, I’m proud of you for realizing you needed help. That’s the first step.”