Untameable (BWWM)

Chapter 21

I hope no one sees me here, was my first
thought as I parked my truck in the lot of a mental health clinic.

I'm not necessarily ashamed to be here but with this photo going around, the last place me and Ruby Jean need to be associated with was a therapist. It'd only add more fuel to the flame of a mess she and I have both created but at this point, our relationship is more important than publicity this and that.

When I walked through the door of the facility, I stepped up to the receptionist desk where a younger woman had her hand flattened on the surface, applying a clear coat to her already deep blue nails. Her head was bowed so I couldn't see much of her other than her lightly brown complexion and bright red scrubs.

"Evening, ma'am," I let my presence known. "I'm here for an appointment."

"Sign in," she nodded in the direction of a clip board without looking up. "And have a seat."

I grabbed the pen and printed my name, date, arrival time, scheduled time, and the doctor I was here to see, taking a seat in the empty waiting room.

My ass hadn't hit the chair when my name was called. "Grant Augustus."

Now what was the fuckin point in having me go sit down?

I returned to the receptionist where she stood waving one hand in the air and blowing the other. Finally looking at me, she hollered, "Damn! You fine as fuck! You date black girls?"

I chuckled. "I'm married."

"Well shit. Where can I fine me a single one of you at?"

"I couldn't tell you," I answered with a shrug.

"Aw," she feigned disappointment. "I want a good-looking white man. If you just so happen to know anyone, send 'im my way. M'kay? Follow me."

Poor girl had zero manners and not an ounce of professionalism but she was cute and funny. Maybe she'll find who she's looking for if she remains enthusiastic enough.

I followed behind at a safe distance as she lead me through the lengthy halls and corridors of the place until we stopped at a closed door.

"Titi Dorothea!" she banged on the door. "Yo six o'clock here."

The door opened up and a much older woman opened the door with greying hair and kind but stern eyes. "Lil girl, what have I told you about beating on my door like that? Get yourself outta here. Sir, welcome. Come in and have a seat."

I entered a plainly decorated room with a navy loveseat, generic paintings on the wall, and other bland decor here and there.

"Good evening to you, Mr. Augustus," she greeted as I got comfortable. "Sorry about her. That's my niece, Pumpkin. She's home for the summer and needed a job. Had I known she had absolutely not a single bit of customer service skills, I would've left her at her Mama's house. I don't doubt she failed to offer you any refreshments?"

"I'm good on that. Thank you. And feel free to call me Grant."

"Alright, Grant. My name is Dorothea Wilde and I'll be your counsellor for today." She went on to list her certifications, studies, and how long she'd been a therapist. "Did you have any questions for me?"

"Why is this place so cheap?"

"My approach is very unconventional."

"Meaning?"

"You'll see. And just so you know, no matter what happens in this room, it stays in this room. And you did sign a consent form. So before we get started, I would like for there to be no interruptions, meaning phones, please?"