Who are you
754 Words
The velvet rope lifted with the quiet approval of the bouncer, and suddenly, the air felt richer.
Felicity followed Amahle upstairs to the VIP section like she was walking into a trap — a very well-lit, leather-couch, gold-bottle-serving trap.
Her stomach twisted. Her phone, still cracked and barely alive, buzzed once in her purse and then gave up again.
“I’m only here because I was threatened with free alcohol,” she muttered under her breath.
Amahle didn’t hear her. She was already basking in the glow of the compliments from a promoter with a crooked chain and a fake accent.
The upstairs lounge wasn’t crowded. Just the right amount of “important” people. The lights were dim, the air full of bass and money. A bottle girl floated by like a mirage.
Then the crowd shifted.
People stood straighter. A hush of respect, like something holy, was about to happen.
Major Keys had entered the room.
Same black hoodie from earlier. Slightly damp from the stage. He looked relaxed and confident, like someone who’d grown up being told he was special and decided to believe it.
He strolled toward them, arms out like a host welcoming guests to a mansion he didn’t own.
“Aweh ladies,” he said, voice low, eyes landing on Amahle first. “Glad you could pull through.”
Amahle smiled like a girl living her soft life prophecy.
Then… his eyes shifted.
They landed on Felicity.
He blinked once. Then twice.
Then—
“Ayy, yo! It’s you… fats from earlier!”
The room froze.
Even the beat seemed to skip.
Amahle turned to Felicity slowly, sensing danger.
Felicity’s head tilted like she was trying to confirm she’d heard right.
“Don’t. Call. Me. That,” she snapped, eyes narrowing.
Major Keys lifted both hands, palms out like she had a weapon.
“My bad, my bad,” he said, laughing a little. “Didn’t mean it like that. I was just—recognizing you.”
“Recognizing me?” Felicity stepped forward. “You bulldozed me. You cracked my phone. You didn’t apologize. And now you’re calling me FAT?”
“It wasn’t that deep.”
“It was an iPhone 13 Pro max. That’s deep enough.”
A few guys nearby chuckled but quickly looked away when Felicity turned her fire-laced gaze toward them.
Amahle tried to intervene gently.
“Chommie, maybe let’s just get drinks and—”
“No, Amahle. I need to hear who this man thinks he is going around disrespecting people.”
The VIP lounge was buzzing with quiet tension.
People were sipping slower. Watching harder. Pretending not to eavesdrop while keeping one ear open.
Major Keys raised his eyebrows, clearly stunned.
He looked around, as if expecting someone to jump in and explain that he was him.
Then he leaned back slightly, puffed his chest just a bit, and said:
“I’m Major Keys.”
He said it like that was supposed to mean something. Like angels were supposed to descend and start harmonizing. Like his name had weight that automatically settled every argument.
Felicity blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then tilted her head and said:
“And?”
He squinted. “I just told you who I am.”
“Yah and?”
A guy in the corner choked on his drink.
Amahle’s eyes were darting between the two like a tennis match from hell.
“So you really don’t know who I am?” Major asked, a little slower this time.
“Oh, I know exactly who you are,” she said. “You’re the asshole who bumped into me like I was invisible, broke my phone, walked away, and then called me ‘fats’ like you were describing a car tyre.”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Felicity wasn’t done.
She turned to Amahle.
“Please call me an Uber. Since my phone is DEAD.”
Amahle looked like she’d been caught in a storm with no umbrella.
“Chommie… Are you sure? Like… sure-sure?”
“Yes. Before I say something that gets us both escorted out.”
She turned to Major one last time.
“You could’ve acted like decent humanbeing and apologized to me.”
Major Keys stood frozen for a moment, licking his lips like he was processing what just happened.
His boy whispered to him:
“Yoh, she’s really not impressed, bro.”
Major nodded, eyes still on Felicity.
“Yeah… the fat one has a point. I'm inhumane.”
- Writer
