“See what I’m talking about? A brotha can’t even wash his hands without getting molested in the bathroom.” Like I said, he had jokes.

We exited the bathroom to a long line of angry women made even more angry now that they knew exactly what had taken us so long. Damon took my hand and we continued through the crowd. Finally making it outside, we began walking toward his truck.

“So you had a good time, right?”

“It was cool.”

“What time is your flight out in the morning?”

“Around eleven.”

“Not until eleven?”

“No, not until eleven.”

“Oh, so you can hang, that is if you’re not sleepy. I know you all mature and everything. Mature folks like to get their sleep on.”

“I’m cool, but you know, if you got a curfew, I’ll understand. The streetlights came on three hours ago. I don’t want your momma running in the street chasing you with a broomstick.”

“Oh snap, you got jokes. That’s funny. I want to take you by my crib. Let you see how I’m living. A lot’s changed, Boo. We can hang out there for a minute and then I’ll take you to the hotel.”

Who did he think he was foolin’? I knew that as soon as I get to this brother’s apartment he’s going to be all over me like white on rice. I was adventurous. I was alive. I could handle it. And besides, in my mind I had already sinned. If I was going to have to repent anyway, I might as well make it worth the wear and tear on my knees.

We pulled up to his place, a brownstone off Seventieth and Park, the good part of Manhattan. It was quiet. Damon took my hand and lifted my bag. Wait…my bag?

“Damon…why do you have my bag?” I asked, knowing his intentions.

“I was just being a gentleman. You might need something in there. You know, like a change of socks, a toothbrush, some pajamas for when you spend the night.”

“I’m not spending the night.”

“I know. But you might want to change into the pajamas under your clothes so that all you have to do is jump in the bed when you get back to the hotel. Why you tripping?” He smiled. He was good. Always making me laugh. That was his way.

We entered his apartment, which was dark. He hit one button and dimmers softly lit the entire room. Another button and the sounds of old school Jodeci rang through the apartment. One more button and naked abstract art appeared, illuminated by a single pin light providing ambience. In the living room were cream-colored custom-made leather couches, bordered by thick, cozy cream-colored rugs that hugged the newly polished wood floor. He had obviously studied Eddie Murphy’s character in Boomerang.

“You like?”

“Yeah, it’s all right.”