Z-Rated (Chocolate Flava 3)

The entire thing was making a mockery of her now.

Her hair was extra curly and flowing right past her shoulders; all the bullshit magazines she had been reading said the look was romantic. She wore a purple dress with thin straps that clung to her curvy body and stopped directly above her knees. High heels finished the look, strappy and colorful; the best accessory she was wearing and Darrell wouldn’t even get to see it.

I can stay here alone, Adrienne thought. I could order up a bottle of wine and a dirty pay-per-view movie. If nothing else, I could take care of myself and call it a night.

But the more she thought about it, the more pathetic it seemed; even more pathetic than meeting a man on the Internet and agreeing to meet him for dinner, drinks, and fucking.

What had she been thinking?

Fed up, Adrienne signaled the waiter and ordered a dirty martini, extra dry.

He nodded.

She drank it quickly and was thankful for the rush it gave her.

She pulled out her wallet to pay, but the young man held up his hand, shook his head, and pointed to the left where a dark-skinned man in a dark-gray suit was sitting at the bar.

Adrienne was prepared to nod her appreciation when he turned around in his chair, but she was taken aback by his familiar face.

Leroy!

And he was drinking his favorite drink; scotch and ginger ale.

He hadn’t changed a bit.

He came over, just as Adrienne knew he would.

“Waiting for someone?” Leroy asked, though Adrienne was pretty sure he had been watching her the entire time and had figured out her story from the way she sat tapping her foot and throwing quick glances at the door.

But Adrienne humored him and said, “I was.”

“No show?”

“Something came up,” Adrienne said quickly.

“I see,” Leroy said, though Adrienne was convinced he didn’t believe it.

He was straightening the collar of his jacket, smoothing his thick sideburns that Adrienne noticed had started to gray.

It looked good on him.

When had she seen him last?

Two years ago? Three?

Yes, it was shortly after the divorce; they were both still pissed about it all and avoided each other at all costs.

“So, you’re leaving?” Leroy asked.

Adrienne reached for her purse. “That’s right.”

“Not hungry anymore?”

She could smell his cologne. “Not really.”

And suddenly Adrienne was even more pissed that the whole thing had taken such a toll on her, that she actually had lost her appetite and was considering going home and sitting in front of the television with a bowl of ice cream on her lap.

So, just like that, Adrienne changed her mind.