I'm Still Wifey by Kiki Swinson Read Free Book Online Page B

take you out?” he wanted to know. But before I answered his question, I took one long look at him from head to toe. Yeah, he seems like a cool cat to hang out with. But I wasn’t at all digging his height. I mean, he has to be every bit of 5’2”, which is three inches shorter than I am. So, I’m dissatisfied with that part from the door. However, he is making shit happen with his attire. I’m loving the hell out of his tan-linen shirt, with the shorts to match. And that huge-ass iceberg dangling from that platinum link around his neck got to be worth more than $50k. And since I know my jewelry, there’s no question in my mind that this nigga is stacking major chips. And when there’s plenty of chips involved, hoes will follow. So, I think I’ll pass on this one.
    “Nah, baby,” I began to say. “I don’t think that will be a good idea.”
    “But why?”
    “Because, I’m not ready.”
    “Is there any way that I can change your mind?” he wanted to know.
    “Nope,” I assured him. So, he stood up from his chair because one of the carwash guys walked up to him and handed him his keys.
    “Y’all finished?” he asked the attendant.
    “Yeah. Your car is right over there,” the guy told him and that’s when Tyree pulled out a huge knot of dough from his pockets and hit the guy off with a fifty spot.
    “Keep the change,” Tyree told him. And then he looked back at me and said, “I hope I see you again.”
    “You just might. If you keep your eyes open.”
    “Oh, I will. Because that’s a must in my profession,” he replied and then he walked off.
    He hopped in a Chrysler 300-Hemi sitting on twenty-twos, cranked up the loud sounds of Kanye West’s joint “Golddigger,” and drove out of the parking lot, squealing his tires like he’s a fucking stunt driver or something. I guess he did it because he thought it was gangsta. Boy, does he have a lot to learn.
    Now, I didn’t have to wait much longer for my car, which was right up my alley. After I paid the guy who handed me my keys, I headed on over to my car to inspect it. And while I was doing that, Nikki’s newfound friend and Mr. Car Wash owner pulls up in his silver Range Rover HSE. So you know that I was not about to leave until I saw this cat for myself. He is the main reason why I came all this way.
    I continued to stand over by my car like I was still giving it a full inspection. And then finally the driver side door opens and out comes this six foot tall, fine-ass nigga. But, what threw me for a loop was that it wasn’t Nikki’s friend Syncere who had just stepped out of the truck—it was my old flame, Quincy.
    And without giving it a second thought, I rushed right on over there to him.
    “Q,” I yelled.
    He turned around and the moment I was within arm’s reach of him, I said, “Boy, whatcha doing up here?”
    “Hey baby,” he spoke to me and then he embraced me.
    “You can let me go now,” I said sarcastically, which made him laugh. But he did release me from his arms.
    And once he did that, he said, “Whatcha doing in this part of town?”
    “I just got my car detailed. But you ain’t answered my question,” I told him.
    “Oh, I got my joint cleaned too.”
    “So, you pushing a Range now, huh?”
    “Nah. This is my man’s joint. I just borrowed it to make a quick run. My whip is over there,” he replied as he pointed to the same 7-series BMW, I saw him driving a few months back when he was with his chick from D.C., who looked like she attended Howard University.
    “So, where is he?” My questions kept coming.
    “He’s probably in the office.”
    “Where? In there?” I asked him, probing for more information as I pointed towards the small building on the lot, even though I already knew the answer.
    “Yeah. Me and him just took over this joint about a month ago because the last owner was in a bunch of fucking debt. He hooked up with Syncere and then Syncere called me to go in with him ’cause he needed some extra