Page 30 of Invisible Bars
His demand wasn’t loud or aggressive, but there was a weighted finality to his tone. I hadn’t taken Chi seriously, not really. It seemed he always laced his threats with jokes. But Gatez? His two words felt like a death sentence whispered slowly—no gavel, no jury, just execution.
A sharp tic rippled through me.
“God’s watching… so is the FBI!”
My eyelids fluttered rapidly—four times in a row, fast and panicked like I was trying to erase reality. I inhaled and wrapped my fingers around the doorknob, steadying myself with the kind of restraint that didn’t feel natural… thenturnedit.
When the door creaked open, they were both stood there wearing opposite expression. Chi had his usual smug look, like the whole situation amused him more than it should’ve. Gatez, on the other hand, stood poised—stone-still and composed. Hisstance was sharp, almost militant, the kind of posture that made a person question whether someone was there to comfort them or interrogate them.
Where Chi’s look saiddon’t take it serious,Gatez’s look saidtake it serious or die. I stood in the doorway caught between clowning and consequence.
"Cool. You got your bag ready," Chi said, glancing at my duffel. "No time like the present. We’re taking a field trip."
My neck tightened, my mouth flew open, and out came an involuntary, drawn-out, “Sticky biscuits! Bootyhole casserole!”
Chi’s brows shot up. “Man, what?”
“I didn’t mean to say that!” I choked out, horrified. “I—I can’t help it! I—I say crazy things when I’m—when I’m stressed or scared!”
Gatez looked at me, and for a second, his expression softened—like he hated having to be the bad guy.
“I’m really not trying to shake you up more than you already are, but this is settled. You’re coming with us,” Gatez announced calmly.
“Where... where are we going?” I asked out of curiosity, my voice barely a breath.
"My place,” he stated like it was law—unchallenged, unmoved, and not up for negotiation.
“Which, by the way, is nice and big as hell,” Chi added. “Gated, secluded area, no neighbors, which means no nosy Karens peeking through blinds, Amazon packages don’t get stolen… just people. And if he decides to shoot somebody at 3 a.m., ain’t nobody dialing 911. It’s also clean, like even the dust know better than to settle there. The best part? You’ll have a chef on call, and the snacks go craaaaaaaazy—I’m talkin’ Oreos,the bougie kind, that had to catch a flight to get here.”
Chi planted his hands on his hips like a proud realtor showing off prime real estate, his grin wide enough to sell the lie.
“You gon’ be good…” he continued, “… long as you don’t call him by his government name in public… at night, ask too many questions, breath too loud when he’s thinking, or chew too loud around him… that might be your last meal. And please don’t start levitating and fuck around and hurl a TV remote at this crazy nigga… or anything for that matter. Most importantly, don’t touch the thermostat. He’ll kill faster over AC settings than he will over money.”
Considering the situation, nothing Chi said should’ve been funny or taken lightly—but I’ll admit it, Ialmostlaughed. With Chi, it was difficult to distinguish whether he was being serious or just flat-out clowning, trying to lighten the weight of the moment. However, the look on Gatez’s face stopped the sound in my throat. He wasn’t amused… not even a little. If he was, he had a hard way of showing it—like humor had to crawl through glass and barbed wire before it could reach him.
“Chi,” Gatez finally spoke, his voice flat, calm, and heavy enough to kill the joke mid-air.
Chi threw his hands up like an innocent bystander.
“I’m just giving her a visual tour. Full disclosure builds trust.”
Although some of the things Chi mentioned sounded like luxury, I couldn’t ignore the truth pressing at the back of my mind. I didn’t know them—not really. And I damn sure didn’t trust them enough to feel safe just because the house had gates, a chef, and imported snacks.
A prison dressed up in luxury is still a prison.
“Please don’t—don’t make me go with you!” I pleaded, my voice shaking. “I told you—I-I swear I don’t know anything! Please—I don’t even know who I—nachos—I saw! I don’t even…” My chest heaved. “Chicken noodle Beyoncé!”I yelped out, lightly slapping my palm against my cheek like it might stop the words from bubbling up. “I don’t even watch crime shows!Ice cream,salsa, scream, scream—stop it! I won’t speak of this to an-anyone!”
Gatez took a step closer, eyes locked on mine. “All the reasons why you’re still breathing… because Isomewhatbelieve you. Still, I’m going to make sure youneverdo. Now let’s go.”
Gatez’s hand didn’t grab mine, but he motioned like I had the option to walk on my own.
I did.
Chi shook his head, grinning. “Man, this thewildestkidnapping I’ve ever done… or seen.”
As we descended the stairs, my eyes flicked—unwillingly—to the stage.
That’s where it happened. Where Blu dropped like a puppet with cut strings… where the sound of a gunshot had frozen time. Now… it was spotless… chillingly spotless. There was no blood, outline or indication that someone’s life had ended right there; just a polished floor and a forgotten mic stand.
