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She shrugged. “It needed a kick. Anyway, come on, Kiki. A little bit of rivalry is fun. I was toughening you up for your future. When I leave undergrad, I’ll need you to take over as Boss Bitch of Blackwell.”
“Boss Bitch?That’s not a political post.”
Simi was irritated by my slowness. “Yes, it is. It’s just unofficial. But aside from that, Adwoa and I have been talking.” I liked that she felt comfortable enough to drop Adwoa’s name with intimacy, like she’d always said her name to me.
“And what Blackwell needs is a strong presence to keep everyone accountable. Adwoa’s a great organizer, but she doesn’t want to be president. Ask her. She’s only doing it because you flat out refused when she asked you, and we don’t have better options. But I think you should do it. I’m going to warn you,Brown Sugar’s listenership might take a dive when you go all campaigny, but I will help you boost it. My touch is magic.
“Kiki, I have watched for two years as Zack has run my kingdom to the ground. But he’s been stressed the fuck out since the announcement. He’s scared of you. That’s why he threw a desperate party tonight.Youhave a community mandate, and more importantly you care. You had the balls to call for a snap election. You’re a powerful girl and that’s the only kind I fuck with.”
In a weird turn of events, it turned out I might like Simi. I felt warmed, although that might have been from the lethal tincture she had mixed. She stared at me oddly, frowning. “Ew. Please don’t cry. It’s embarrassing, and I will have to rescind my cosign. Will you run?”
I weighed the notion in my mind and the horror I’d expected to detect wasn’t there. It intrigued me, sank into my thoughts better than anticipated. “I’ll think about it.”
A genuine smile glimmered on her lips, just as her phone vibrated. “Good, because—” The smile faded as she squinted at her phone and scrolled. She looked up at me, stricken, before her eyes darted up andaround the room. I followed and saw that everyone else’s attention was drawn to the white glare of their screens, their faces morphing from blurry, casual joy to intrigue to discomfort, to looking at me with scandalized curiosity or, worse, like I was an imposter in their midst. The restaurant was hushed now, harsh-edged whispers taking the place of the loud squawks and bubbles of enjoyment. My blood pounded hot warning into my ear. I felt like I could chew it.
Something steely slid over Simi’s face—not unsympathetic, but briskly business. “Kiki. Listen to me. Your moves now are important. Don’t bend. Don’t cave. Remember, Zack is petty and small. He’s retaliating like this because he’s losing.”
Something was definitely wrong. The music playing from the speakers seemed to have warbled, distorted, slowed. People were either looking at me or pretending not to.
Aminah had showed up from nowhere and was grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the booth, saying something like “Let’s go now, babe, everything is okay”—which let me know that things were very much not okay. Chioma was grabbing my jacket and Shanti got my bag, and then I saw Malakai in the corner of the room, his eyes ripping away from his phone and immediately rushing toward me, assuring the girls that he would take over, that he would take me home.
Outside Sweetest Ting, the cold slapping up against my skin so hard it felt like a relief from the anticipatory heat in my body, I told everyone to please,pleaselet me look at my phone, that I needed to face the source. Aminah tried to swipe my phone from me, and Malakai tried to convince me that it was best that I waited till we got back home.
“Give me your keys, Kai.”
Helpless against my glare, Malakai did as told and I immediately got into his car parked up outside Sweetest Ting, locking the doors as Aminah tried to get in. Something told me I had to be alone for this. I looked at my phone.
ProntoPicLive
@ZeeKing
Wassup, guys [gentle, self-aware friendly chuckle and wave], it’s Zack Kingsford here, your president and, I like to think, brother of Blackwell. It’s been a while since I’ve done a broadcast. I’ve been quiet. Been reflecting. There’s been a lot of drama lately. A lot of accusations being thrown about. A lot of misconceptions. I’ve sat back and watched them because lions don’t concern themselves with the affairs of mice. Nelson Mandela said that. He was also a great leader. But I just feel like enough is enough, and I feel like I owe you all the truth. We’re a family.
The first truth is that the debate with Whitewell Knights is truly just a way to open up dialogue and to really make our presence known within campus. How can we progress if we don’t unite? As you know, I myself am of mixed-race heritage, being both Black and white, and I consider myself a real emblem of what can happen when we put our differences aside. The protests against the debate are further proving stereotypes. That we would rather struggle than seek peace. That struggle has become our identity. Let’s step away from that. Like my hero Nelson Mandela did, I am trying to bridge gaps.
The second part I want to address really is... awkward for me. [Another chuckle that quickly dissipates. Soft, vulnerable eyes appear.] I really don’t like to make the personal political but it seems that I have no choice. Kiki Banjo’s platformBrown Sugarhas been used to disseminate false information and to instigate a coup. I haven’t been worried because I know I deserve to be where I am. However, it is important to know that her platform isn’t neutral. Kiki Banjo has her own personal vendetta against me.
Kiki and I were embroiled in a relationship for a while. Entangled, if you will. I ended it, and unfortunately Kiki has taken some time to adjust. It saddens me because I really did respect her, but it seems she is seeking vengeance by slandering my name and getting the members of her coven to do the same. It has become a witch hunt. They want to lynch me. We saw an example of this, with her encouraging the thug Malakai Korede to attack me last weekend. It’s a shame because I was truly trying to forge peace. Can we trust someone so manipulative? Blackwell fam, please don’t pay the liesany attention. Do the right thing, vote for Zack King . . . sford. One love. Oh, and evidence of our relationship will be posted on my ProntoPic stories, to prove my integrity.
I hadn’t sent any pictures of myself to Zack, but apparently, he had taken one of me, in my bra and panties, as I was pulling a dress on one time. You could barely make out my face, but, if you wanted to see me, you could. I wasn’t crying. I couldn’t. My muscles had stiffened, the air in my lungs, dense.
Malakai was knocking on the window, saying, “Scotch, come on.”
I unlocked the car. Aminah rushed into the back, squeezed my shoulder. I don’t remember much, but Aminah’s sweet assurances that she was already working on the picture being taken down, as if that was a remedy against screenshots and shares. Malakai was saying that he would kill Zack, but also, confusingly, that none of this mattered, which made me so angry, because if none of this mattered then why would he want to kill Zack? The irritation at the lie was something grounded that I could hold on to, so I held on to it, because the idea, the fact, thatthiswas happening to me again, that somebody had wielded me against me in some kind of ego trip to fix their reputation, was too much for my mind to process, it would have plunged me in way too deep. I had to stay afloat. So I clung to my anger at Malakai’s well-meaning attempt at consolation, till it cloyed in my mind. My mouth was salty.
When he said, cautiously, gently into the silence, “Kiki, please say something,” I replied, “Don’t do anything to Zack that could get you suspended. Promise me.”
Malakai’s jaw tensed but he nodded. “Okay.”
Then I asked him to pull over so I could throw up.
