Page 241 of Invisible Bars
The room looked like money prayed over it.
Chandeliers glittered above a long twelve-seat table set with fine china, gold flatware, and wine glasses shaped like tears. The whole space was dressed like a magazine spread—tasteful, but only if your taste came with a trust fund.
Everyone was already seated.
Dessign, radiant in a chocolate leather wrap dress, caught my eye and winked. She looked like a woman who’d survived hell and came back hotter.
Chi was two glasses in, leaning toward a woman who barked out a laugh so loud it could’ve raised the ancestors. I figured that had to be Imanio’s aunt—he told me she’d be here. She had on a zebra-print blouse and red lipstick, unapologetic and probably funny as hell. The kind of woman who always smelled like perfume and wisdom.
Sitting beside her was a woman I recognized immediately from the photos: Imanio’s grandmother. Her hair was wrappedin a silk turban, skin a rich mahogany smoothed by time and cocoa butter. She sat with her shoulders back and her cane across her lap like a weapon she hadn’t had to use in a while. Her eyes said,Try me if you want to,but her smile was warm and comforting.
Across the table sat Imanio’s father, Robert—distinguished, even in plain clothes. He wore a crisp white button-down and beige slacks, no tie. His beard was lined to perfection, and his posture was easy but alert. Like he was watching everything... and already knew how the night would end.
At the head of the table, of course, washer.
Giselle Kors.
Sipping wine like it had been bottled for her specifically—vintage, rare, and far too exclusive for common taste.
“Welcome again,” she greeted, standing with a smile that was polite but failed to reach her dark eyes, which flickered with a hint of something more complex.
Without consciously deciding to, my fingers instinctively darted to Imanio’s sleeves and gave it two quick flicks—soft, compulsive, like my body needed to confirm he was still there.
“Fresh like moldy tilapia!” I blurted,my voice cutting through the air unexpectedly.
Giselle’s grin tightened, but she remained silent. So did Imanio’s aunt and grandmother—both of whom, according to Imanio, were familiar with my condition.
“Sorry,” I murmured, barely loud enough for anyone to hear, my cheeks reddening in embarrassment.
"No worries!” Giselle chirped, giving my shoulder a friendly pat, as though we were long-lost friends. “It’s something I should get used to, right? Now, let’s find a seat, shall we?”
With an exaggerated flourish, she gestured toward the table, her movements reminiscent of someone directing a press conference, rather than inviting us to a casual family dinner.
Fake-ass bitch.
I didn’t say it out loud… but oh, I thought it with my whole chest.
Imanio pulled out a seat for me, kissed my temple, and sat beside me.
And just like that… the dinner began.
I wasn’t sure if we were about to eat or survive.
Giselle’e gestured across the table. “Now, I know some of us have already met—Imanio, Robert, Dessign…” Her voice barely acknowledged my name, like saying it too kindly might choke her. “But I’m not sure if you’ve met Chi?—”
Before she could finish, Chi threw up his hand mid-sip, like a game show contestant buzzing in with the right answer.
“I’m Chi—Dess’s headache, full-time comedian, and part-time peacemaker. But Glitchy already knows that because we’re already locked in. And this evening, I’m just here to make sure nobody upsets my lady, for the food and gossip that I know is sure to come.”
Laughter exploded around the table… even I had to cover my mouth.
“Well, you got company in that,” Imanio’s aunt chimed in, raising her glass with a smirk, then turned her focus on me. “Hey, pretty girl. I’m Renee—thecoolaunt, certified shade technician, the one who always keeps it real and steps in to translate when my dear sister starts talking in polished judgment.”
Everyone laughed again—except Giselle. Then his grandmother spoke, her voice calm but full of that old-school weight.
“I’m Mama Rose, baby,” she introduced, adjusting her silk turban like a crown. “I’m the one who taught everybody at this table how to stir pots without spilling a drop, say a prayer thatcovers their whole house,andkeep a humble heart—even whenpridegot a seat at the table.”
Mama Rose took a dainty sip of her water, eyes flicking toward Giselle with the gentlest shade imaginable, as if to sayyou hear that, baby?
