Page 74 of Invisible Bars
Isat at the long glass conference table in my downtown office, dressed in a sharp black suit that suddenly felt too tight around the collar.
The overhead lights were too bright. The air was too cold. And I was already over it—and the damn interviews hadn’t even started yet.
That day was supposed to be about hiring a new publicist; something long overdue. But truth be told? I really didn’t feel like sitting through a bunch of over-rehearsed answers and fake smiles.
Not that day… not when my mind was still halfway back at the estate.
The real kicker was when Naji said,"Just please keep your heart and I’ll keep mine.”
That shit… hit different. It didn’t just sound like a boundary; it sounded like a wall—like she saw no goodness in me, and no hope, future or even a flicker inus.And I don’t know why, but that shit stuck with me. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t used to that. I was used to women clinging, chasing and folding themselves into whatever shape they thought I wanted. I was used to being wanted—loudly. But Naji? She didn’t ask me for anything.
Not my attention. Not my protection. Not my heart.
She told me to keep it. So yeah… that’s why my response came out cold and harsh, like I didn’t care.
But I did.
Even when Naji was talking that shit about not giving me no pussy. I didn’t expect it… not that soon, but it was the principle, I guess. But if I’m being real with myself, I’m not even sure I meant any of that shit; not toherat least.
I exhaled hard through my nose and tapped the table twice—impatient.
Chi was supposed to be helping out with the interviews—acting as my second set of eyes, which was a gamble in itself. Half the time, he was brilliant; the other half, he was running on sarcasm and espresso.
Moments later, he strutted in wearing a poorly-fitted navy blue suit like it was trying to run away from his body. His sneakers still peeked out from the bottom like they refused to be tamed.
“Nigga, I told you to wear dress shoes, not Jordans in disguise," I fussed, eyeing his fake professionalism from the ankles down.
"I wore the suit, didn’t I?” Chi countered, holding out his arms like he deserved a medal. “And… I showed upontime. That’s two miracles in one morning. Baby steps. Give a niggasomecredit.”
I shook my head, already tired.
Chi took a sip of his smoothie like this was brunch.
“But I meant to ask you,” he said, leaning in a little. “Did Naji give you an answer?”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “She’s gonna do it.”
Chi smirked. “As if she truly had another option. But damn. So we’re really going through with thekidnap-a-wife plan,huh? Bold strategy, boss.”
I gave him a look, but he kept talking.
“You know, if this was anybody else, I’d say they were crazy as hell. But it’s you. This is exactly your brand. Silent. Cold. And now... you’re about to casually marry someone like it’s a tax move.”
I didn’t respond. I just adjusted my cufflinks and stared at the interview list like I was actually about to focus. But Chi, of course, wasn’t done.
“Oh, and before I forget—what we doing for the bachelor party?” he asked, completely serious. “I got some ideas. I’m thinking… classy, but disrespectful.”
I shot him a warning look.
He raised his hands. “Relax. I’ll make sure nobody gets shot.”
“There won’t be a bachelor party, Chi.”
“Man, you don’ stole somebody’s whole future wife and won’t even celebrate with wings and bad decisions? That’s selfish, bro!”
I gave him a look, half-grimace, half-warning.
“Chi, you got three jobs today—sit there, look useful, and go get the applicants; don’t mess up the easy one. You keep talking, I’ma start docking your imaginary salary and interviewing replacements for you. Now go on; bring the first one in.”
