Mrs Main Chic │ Episode 4

Mrs Main Chic-www.fifietalkslive.com

I got back from work on Thursday and saw a parcel at my door, tore it open and found the latest Rolex watch in it, attached to the box was a note that read “I miss you, I’ll be waiting for you by 6 pm at that bar you like so much”

This man does know the right buttons to press; how on earth can anyone say no to this?

Regardless, I should have some self-respect, his wife literally made me strip in their house and he did nothing! I ain’t going nowhere, if he wants to see me he’ll have to come here!

By 7pm I was desperately looking for what to wear, a heap of rejected jeans and blouses lay on my 6-inch bed with me still draped in my towel inspecting the other clothes I had in my wardrobe. I finally settled on a pink body con gown.

I put it on and breezed downstairs to Stella’s room to ask for a facebeat.

“You haven’t paid me for the last one I did. Remember, the one you took to your ex’s wedding?”

“Oh come on, you saw how devastated that wedding made me, I deserved that makeover, I couldn’t go there looking like the one the world had rejected and is still rejecting nau”

“I used Fenty on your face Sharon, FENTY. You think say na sand ah dey use buy these things?”

“Oya just draw my eyebrow for me”.

With a sigh she let me in. Sharon did have a heart of gold. The first time she moved in here she came up to my room with a plate of fried rice and a cute smile just to introduce herself as the new tenant. At the time I thought she was the person my aunty warned me about, you know, the person that wanted to initiate me into some mammy water gang with food and that will fly into my room at the dead of night to invite me to our witch meetings somewhere in the air and then that would now tell me I needed to bring my mother’s left breast for some sacrifice. Turned out I was wrong, she’s just too nice for her own good. Sometimes.

“Where are you going to sef by this time? You no get work tomorrow morning?”

E no consign you

“Sha no loss oh, and if dem beat just know say I no go pick my call

On my way back upstairs I pass Nneka’s room, her door is open so I can see her sitting on a chair applying nail polish on her toe nails with music blaring from her speakers. I remember she has some really cute pair of black block heels. Nneka is that friend/lodge mate that owns all the latest expensive designer bags and clothes, owns the most quality wigs and goes out on dates to the most luxurious 5 star restaurants and yet is not in one single committed relationship; she occasionally posts pictures of exotic food placed on equally expensive looking tables and throws on a simple detail evading caption like- “date night” without of course putting up a picture of the creature she went out on said date with. It’s like she’s dating everyone and no one at the same time. I sometimes wonder if she has an actual job although Stella did once tell me that her-Nneka comes from “old wealth” and is just passing through a phase of “unreasonable rebellion”. I wondered what level of witchery one had to be possessed by to rebel against money.

Hey Neky, good evening

Evening Sharon, how far nau, she replied without looking up.

“I’m good”.

“Can I use your red heels please?”

“Oh sure, there they are” she said nodding to her shoe rack.

As I turn to leave she says in a suggestive tone

“So Stella told me you’re going out with a guy named Kenneth” and then she takes her time to cover the nail polish container before adding“I sincerely hope it isn’t the Kenneth I know”.

“Tell me about the Kenneth you know so we’ll compare notes” I replied in a conscious effort to throw in some humor. I’m always trying to prove to Nneka that I am smart, at least smarter than her. She can’t be richer AND smarter than me at the same time, I am not unfortunate.

She gives out a rather long throaty laugh, not the kind you give to a joke. “The Kenneth I know is tall, dark, drives a benz, lives at Fulton Avenue, is married and does not like to share that bit of information until of course his wife does it for him, has a 7 inch dick and…

And what? I ask, getting a little impatient. I’m running late for this date already, and I intend to milk enough money out of it to get me an iPhone.

“…Is HIV positive”

“Sorry, what?”

Related posts

2 Thoughts to “Mrs Main Chic │ Episode 4”

  1. Chidindu

    Great story 👌🏾
    Caught my attention real good.

  2. Donald

    Beautiful beautiful.
    Now i fee like reading alk tye previous episodes

Leave a Comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.