Still Wifey Material by Kiki Swinson Page B

someone else had the keys. After the locksmith arrives and was switching my locks, I tried to call Fatu, but one of his bartenders told me that he was in the middle of a meeting. I left a message to have him call me when he was free.
    It only took the locksmith twenty minutes to change my locks. I paid him, set my alarm, and had him walk me to my car. Before I drove off, I looked back at the shop and wondered to myself,
Who in the hell could’ve robbed me?
    I couldn’t help but glance over at Sophie’s shop. All the lights were out, but they weren’t out when I’d first arrived, so it wouldn’t shock me if they had something to do with it, or saw the perpetrators who did it. God only knew. Hopefully we would soon find out for ourselves.

Something Just Ain’t Right
(Nikki Speaks)
    I didn’t know what the fuck was going on with Bintu. He hadn’t returned any of my calls. The last time I’d spoken to him was the morning after we left his apartment and had brunch, which was two days ago, and I was pissed. I sat at my station twiddling my thumbs while Kira’s stupid ass styled her client’s hair and Rachael washed a perm out of one of her client’s heads. Everybody was acting like they were so fucking busy, but I saw right through that shit. I mean, I looked at Rachael’s silly ass. She was mad as hell that Kira wouldn’t reimburse her for her loss, which I thought was ridiculous of her to ask, but it seemed like she was trying to cope with it. Sadly for her, though, she had nowhere else to go right then, so she was stuck like Chuck and couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
    Carmen, however, wasn’t playing. Her man told Kira that she wasn’t coming back, and he meant that shit too. Even though Carmen didn’t have a shop to call her own at that point, I was sure that she and X were working on that. I definitely wished her the best, because she was cool, and I would love to work with her again.
    Several hours passed and I was still unable to get in touch with Bintu, so I took a ride over to the nightclub. I didn’t see his car, so I immediately busted a U-turn and headed over to his apartment. I knew he had to be there, so that was where I went, because I needed some answers.
    Upon my arrival I did the curbside valet parking and then tried to board the elevator, but the tall, blonde, female concierge stopped me in my tracks. “Excuse me,” the woman said, “are you a new resident I’m not aware of?”
    Embarrassed by the way she approached me, I smiled to kind of play it off and then I said, “No, I’m not a resident. But my boyfriend is.”
    “And who might that be?”
    “His name is Bintu.”
    “Does this Bintu have a last name?”
    “Yes, it’s Oduka. His apartment is on the—”
    “I know what floor he lives on,” she interjected, “but since you’re not a resident, you can’t just go up to his apartment without being announced.”
    “I just wanted to see if he was home because I’ve been trying to contact him all day.”
    “Oh, so he’s not expecting you?”
    “No, he’s not.”
    “Well, come with me to the front desk and I’ll see if I can get him on the phone.” She gestured for me to walk ahead of her. I was frustrated and hesitated a bit, because I didn’t want her to give Bintu the heads up that I was downstairs. I honestly wanted the chance to walk up on him and find out why he’d been avoiding me, but I saw that that wasn’t going to happen. I sighed once more and went over to the front desk. The concierge dialed the extension to Bintu’s apartment. I waited patiently while she prepared to announce that I was in the building. To my surprise, when someone answered on the other end, she immediately turned her back to me and started whispering. I couldn’t hear a damn word she was saying and was getting more pissed by the second.
    “Well, is he there?” I blurted out.
    She ignored my question and hung up the phone. With a cheesy-ass expression, she said, “I was just told