Chapter 7 #2
Across the room, Eric stood with Kee-Kee near the stage, listening while she talked with her hands. He was focused, respectful, nodding like every word mattered. Kee-Kee pointed at something, and instead of acting like he knew everything, Eric pulled out his phone and took notes.
Notes.
From Kee-Kee.
Lord.
That should not have been attractive.
It was very attractive.
Tameka bumped my shoulder. “See?”
“I’m looking at the lighting.”
“You looking at your future headache.”
“Shut up.”
She smiled. “You scared?”
“Yes.”
The answer came out before I could dress it up.
Tameka’s teasing faded.
“Mo.”
I looked down at my list. “It’s fast.”
“It is.”
“And messy.”
“It is.”
“And he got family drama.”
“Everybody got family drama. Some people just hide theirs behind matching pajamas at Christmas.”
I laughed quietly.
She leaned closer. “But you know what else it is?”
“What?”
“Different.”
My throat tightened.
Because that was the part.
Eric was different.
Not perfect. Not simple. Not easy.
But different.
He didn’t make me guess. He didn’t punish my fear. He didn’t run when I reacted from hurt. He came with proof, apology, patience, and that infuriating calm that made me want to throw something soft at him.
“I don’t want to be stupid,” I whispered.
“You’re not stupid.”
“I don’t want to fall for potential.”
“Then don’t.”
I looked at her.
“Fall for patterns,” she said. “What does he keep showing you?”
I looked across the room again.
Eric caught my eyes.
His expression changed immediately. Like whatever business conversation he was in, part of him still knew exactly where I was.
I hated that.
No, I didn’t.
That was the problem.
“He keeps showing up,” I said.
Tameka nodded. “Then pay attention to that.”
Before I could respond, Mrs. Pearl yelled from the booth, “Monica! The flyer says complimentary champagne. Is that real champagne or that apple juice with ambition?”
Dre yelled back, “It’s sparkling cider for the first hour!”
Mrs. Pearl frowned. “Then say that. Don’t have me putting on lipstick for juice.”
Kee-Kee pointed at Dre. “And don’t be serving elders no room-temperature nothing. We are women of standards.”
Dre looked overwhelmed. “I own ten percent of this place and somehow have zero authority.”
I walked over. “Because your ideas have made us nervous.”
“That reel was going to hit.”
“Delete your creativity until further notice.”
Eric came up beside me. “That’s harsh.”
“You want him to post ‘Windex and God’?”
Eric paused. “Fair.”
Dre put a hand over his heart. “Betrayed by leadership.”
The next day was all movement.
I barely slept. I woke up early, handled two lash clients, rescheduled one appointment with an apology and a discount, then spent the rest of the day sourcing decor for a lounge grand opening that was now somehow my personal responsibility and emotional investment.
I chose black and gold with warm lighting, white flowers, and deep green accents to make the place feel grown and rich without looking like prom night in somebody’s basement.
I ordered custom menus printed fast, arranged tall cocktail tables, and created a small photo backdrop with the Loyalty logo.
Tameka helped while complaining.
Kee-Kee helped while taking over.
Mrs. Pearl came “just to look” and ended up sitting at a table separating napkins into stacks of twenty because, according to her, “somebody got to bring excellence.”
Dre was sent on errands and returned with half the list, extra snacks, and a story about a woman at the party supply store who “felt his energy.”
“She felt you blocking the aisle,” I said.
Eric laughed from behind me.
I turned and found him standing near the bar, sleeves rolled up, watching me tape down a section of backdrop.
“What?” I asked.
“You in your element.”
“I’m sweating.”
“Still.”
“I have glue on my arm.”
“Still.”
Tameka groaned from across the room. “Y’all make me sick.”
Kee-Kee yelled, “Let love breathe!”
I dropped my head back. “Can everybody please find employment?”
Eric stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You need anything?”
“Ten more hours, a better ladder, and for Dre to stop flirting with vendors.”
“I can help with two of those.”
“You got time control?”
“No.”
“Then get the ladder.”
He smiled and did exactly that.
That was how the day went.
Me asking.
Eric doing.
Me trying not to notice how much that mattered.
By opening night, I was tired, sore, and one minor inconvenience away from lying dramatically on the floor.
But Loyalty looked beautiful.
Not just cleaned up.
Transformed.
The black walls glowed under amber lights. The bar shined. The stage was lit. The booths looked elegant. The photo backdrop stood near the entrance with white flowers and gold accents. The front glass was spotless, and right beside the door Eric had placed a small framed sign:
Built with love. Open with loyalty.
I stared at it for too long.
Eric came up behind me.
“You like it?” he asked.
“It’s nice.”
“You always call things nice when you’re trying not to feel.”
I looked at him. “You always analyze me when I’m trying to be mysterious.”
“You not mysterious.”
“Excuse you?”
“You’re guarded. Different thing.”
I turned to him fully. He looked good enough to cause public confusion. Black suit, no tie, white shirt open at the collar, gold chain just visible. Beard perfect. Eyes steady.
The kind of man who made you want to fix your lip gloss and your credit score.
“You look…” I started.
His eyebrow lifted.
I cleared my throat. “Professional.”
He laughed softly. “That hurt you to say?”
“Yes.”
“You look beautiful.”
I looked down at my dress, suddenly self-conscious.
I wore a fitted chocolate-brown dress that hit below my knees, gold heels, and soft curls. It was grown, classy, and just sexy enough to make me feel like I might get stared at but not enough to have Kee-Kee asking where my coat was.
“Thank you,” I said.
Eric stepped closer. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For standing with me.”
My chest tightened.
“Eric—”
“No, let me say it before everybody gets here and Dre starts yelling about ice.”
I smiled despite myself.
His voice got softer. “This week could’ve knocked me off balance. But you walked in and made the ground feel steady.”
That was entirely too much.
“You’re welcome,” I whispered, because for once, I didn’t have a joke.
His hand brushed mine.
Not holding.
Just touching.
A promise with fingertips.
Then Dre shouted from the bar, “WE GOT ICE!”
I closed my eyes. “Why is he like this?”
Eric sighed. “I ask God weekly.”
Guests started arriving right after seven.
And baby, they came.
The same people who had been sharing messy posts were now walking through the door dressed like they had always believed in the vision.
Women in heels and bodycon dresses. Men in fresh cuts and clean sneakers.
Aunties in perfume strong enough to fight sin.
Couples. Cousins. Business owners. Folks from the block.
Folks from the other side of town who heard drama and stayed for ambiance.
Ray came with a tray of wings and an attitude.
“This place better not get too fancy for my people,” he told Eric.
Eric hugged him. “Never.”
Mrs. Pearl walked in wearing a gold pantsuit and red lipstick.
“Where’s my seat?” she asked.
Dre pointed. “VIP.”
She nodded. “As it should be.”
Tameka worked the room like she was running for mayor. Kee-Kee inspected the food temperature. I stayed near the entrance at first, making sure the photo backdrop held, the flowers stayed upright, and nobody put drinks on the display table.
Then I heard it.
“Girl, it is cute in here.”
“Eric did this?”
“I heard his girl decorated.”
His girl.
My stomach flipped.
I turned slightly and saw two women looking at me from near the bar. They smiled, not messy. Curious.
One of them lifted her glass. “You did good, sis.”
I smiled back. “Thank you.”
First Lady of Loyalty, somebody had joked earlier.
I told myself I hated it.
My face said otherwise.
Around eight, Eric stepped onto the small stage with a microphone.
The room settled.
He looked out over the crowd, calm and handsome and so clearly in his purpose that I forgot to breathe for a second.
“First, I want to thank everybody for coming out tonight,” he said. “This building has been a lot of things over the years. Some good, some not so good.”
A few people laughed.
“But when I bought it, I didn’t just see an old building. I saw a place where grown folks could come, enjoy themselves, celebrate, build memories, and feel proud of something on our block.”
The room got quiet.
“We had a setback this week,” he continued. “Some of y’all saw it before I even had my coffee.”
More laughter.
“But setbacks don’t get the final word unless you hand them the microphone. Tonight, I wanted to open these doors anyway because this community deserves more than drama. We deserve places built with care. We deserve good music, good food, good people, and a reason to dress up on a Friday.”
People clapped.
My throat felt tight.
Eric’s eyes found mine.
“And I want to thank the people who helped make tonight happen. Dre, my brother in business and in stress.”
Dre put both hands up like he was at an awards show.
“My family. My team. Big Ray. Mrs. Pearl. Tameka. Kee-Kee.”
Everybody clapped.
Then Eric looked directly at me.
“And Monica.”
The room went “Oooooh” like we were in middle school with wine glasses.
I immediately wanted to crawl behind the bar.
Eric smiled a little but kept going.
“Sometimes somebody walks into your life at the exact moment you need them, and they bring order, honesty, and peace with a little bit of attitude.”
The room laughed.
Tameka yelled, “That’s our girl!”
I covered my face.
Eric’s eyes stayed on me. “Thank you for believing in what I’m building.”
I did not cry.
My allergies simply respected the lighting.
He ended the speech, the music started, and the night took off.
For two hours, everything felt perfect.
Too perfect.