Page 149 of Invisible Bars
“This ain’t mercy; this is memory insurance. Next time you see my number, you better piss yourself and answer on thefirstfuckin’ ring,” I concluded, then shoved him back—hard. Not enough to kill, but enough to make his life flash twice.
The nigga fell to his knees instantly, sobbing into the rooftop gravel, hands raised like prayer.
I stood back, adjusting the cuffs of my hoodie, inhaling through my nose to ground myself.
Then from behind me, Chi whistled low.
“Damn. That nigga gon’ file for witness protection over a late payment.”
I turned slowly and shot him a look.
Chi shrugged. “What? I’m just saying… you ain’t collecting debt no mo’; you issuing generational trauma.”
The pathetic ass nigga on the ground scrambled to crawl away on shaky limbs, but I wasn’t finished.
I stepped forward, casting a long shadow over him.
“You can crawl away tonight, but if I see your face again without what’s owed, don’t run… just lie down and play dead; it'll save me the trouble.”
The man froze mid-scurry, then nodded so fast it looked like convulsions before darting toward the rooftop door.
“Let’s go,” I told Chi.
We followed suit, and the tightness in my shoulders eased. That inner switch flipped from ruthless to restrained—Gatez to Imanio.
As we exited the rooftop, Chi shook his head with the weight of disbelief.
“I just knew you was about to toss his ass!”
“I should’ve, huh?”
“Hell yeah! I had already rehearsed my shocked face for the news, like, ‘Damn, man. I knew that nigga. He ain’t bother nobody. It’s some ruthless ass niggas out here.”
I laughed. “Nigga, you stupid as hell! I would’ve made that shit look like a suicide, though,” I responded, half-focused, glancing down at my phone.
I was peeking in on Naji—she was outside, legs crossed, sitting by the pool with that soft squint she’d make when she was deep in her thoughts.
Peaceful. Beautiful.
“Uh-uh, see?” Chi pointed. “Let me find out Glitchy got Gatez out here goin’ a lil’ soft. Next thing I know, you gon’ be writing poems and singing Luther by the fireplace.”
I smirked, closing out of the feed. “Shut up.”
Chi grinned, refusing to let it go. “You gon’ be over there like, ‘Roses are red, violets are blue… I used to be ruthless, now I buy pads too.’”
“Nigga, stop! And you acting like you don’t be in Walmart, with the phone tucked under your ear holding up two boxes like, ‘Hey baby, was it the purple Always or the green one with the wings?”
We laughed together.
“Bro, listen. I remember when I bought Dess some pads for the first time… I walked outta CVS like I had a kilo in the bag! I held that shit like contraband!” His voice got lower than usual. “That’s when I knew I loved her.”
Then he got quiet… real quiet.
I glanced over at Chi, and for once, he wasn’t cracking a joke; just staring off like he’d time-traveled.
Chi was probably thinking about everything he and Dessign had been through. From the moment she got had the accident—even though she had another nigga then—Dessign swore up and down she didn’t need anybody. She was too damn proud to ask for help… too used to disappointment. But Chi? He stayed through the hospital visits, the appointments, all the nights Dessign cried over shit she never spoke on, the bad days when she couldn’t hide the pain behind her usual sarcasm, and the moments she broke down and then cussed him out for seeing it. He stayed through it all, even when it wasn’t easy. Even when she was a pain in the ass—which, let’s be real, she could be. Chi still held her down, and I respected the hell out of him for doing that.
Chi added, “That… and when I let her eat my last pack of Gushers.”
