CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A WEEK LATER
“Just a minute!” CeCe abandoned his breakfast of cornflakes and got his keys out the adjoining living room on his way to answer the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s Ms. Okorie,” his neighbor answered in her high-pitched Nigerian accent.
CeCe opened the door, smiling. “Good morning. What can I do for you?”
“Am I bothering you?” The 55-year-old’s strong features contorted under her light-yellow skin.
“Nope. Just on my way to work.” CeCe shook his keys. “Everything okay?”
She wiggled her wide nose. “Do you smell that?” She sniffed, trying to peek inside his apartment. “That odor?”
CeCe looked back into his apartment.
“It’s putrid.” She scratched her corn rolls under her black head wrap. “I’ve never spelled anything so bad.”
He sniffed and shook his head, pretend
