“Well, call me when you get a minute. Nice to meet you, Montana,” she said insincerely, rolling her eyes and walking away.

Wait, what just happened? She was supposed to get stank, he was supposed to get loud, and I was supposed to react by getting up from the table, still very hungry, grabbing my coat and leaving. Either he had seriously changed, or he had stepped up his game to the point where the sistahs wouldn’t dare give him grief in public for fear of his backlash in private. Either way, it didn’t matter, she was gone, leaving no residue, and stirring no drama.

“Janine works with the label.”

“A port, 1981.” It was the waiter pouring just a taste in Damon’s glass.

Damon, taking the glass and swishing it around, put the glass to his nose, inhaled, and then sipped. After Damon’s nod, the waiter poured the wine and he ordered our meal.

“For the lady, the baby lamb chops with a salad. I’ll have the farm-raised catfish, blackened. For an appetizer could you bring us both a bowl of the Louisiana seafood gumbo?” What…no buffalo wings? Wow, Damon had matured. He had grown more sophisticated. Still with an edge, but with class.

We drank, and we ate, sharing dreams, losing ourselves in the “what ifs” or “what could have beens.” The evening was going better than I had imagined.

“No dessert, thank you, I’m stuffed,” I said, having eaten way too much. Well, really, not too much, but you know how it is when you’re really hungry and you wait too long to eat.

“So when was the last time you got your party on? Shook your booty, got hot and sweaty like we used to?” he asked.

“It’s been a while.”

“You ain’t forgot how, have you? I know you all grown up and all. You still remember how to get down?”

“I remember how to get down.”

“You know, they ain’t doing the Freddy Krueger no more.”

“I know that. But, they’re still doing the Inspector Gadget, right?”

“Nooooo! I ain’t taking you nowhere with me if you gon’ be doing the Inspector Gadget!!” We cracked up.

Damon was fun. He had jokes. The check came, he pulled out a Louis Vuitton leather billfold lined with a sea of multi-colored credit cards. Scanning for the proper one, he pulled out the American Express Platinum. Well, all right! Damon had game and cash.

“Did you pack anything for the club?”

“I got a little something.”

We hopped in his truck and pulled up to what looked to be a medium-rise office building. “Yo, my studio’s inside, you can change there. Be careful, though, I got cameras all over. I don’t want you to pop up on the internet or something like that.”