Page 96 of Invisible Bars
“What if I told you Idorun a kingdom?”
“Then I’d remind you that evenkingsneed someone to clean up the mess when the villagers start talking. This may be off-topic, and forgive me if it sounds like I’m prying, but I don’t remember you being married.”
Her eyes were locked on my ring.
I glanced down at it too.
“Can you keep a secret?” I asked, voice low.
She nodded without hesitation. “Yours? Of course.”
“I’mnewlymarried,” I revealed, keeping my expression unreadable. “We eloped,” I lied. “But I’m not ready for it to be public… not yet.”
“Of course,” she replied with professional ease, though I saw the curiosity flash behind her eyes. “Well, congratulations. But… since I’m your publicist now, I’ll give you this small piece of advice: if you don’t want people to know, you might want to keep the ring off. Someone’s always watching. All it takes is one photo, one tabloid tip, and it’s everywhere.”
I looked back down at the ring again.
Crazy thing is, Naji and I both wore our rings faithfully, when in reality, neither of us had to. I never took it off since Naji placed it on my finger. Meanwhile, I was sitting there debating whether I should take Saroya’s advice. Sliding it off felt wrong… like betrayal. But I did it because Saroya was right.
I slipped the band from my finger and tucked it into my jacket pocket. And just like that, I felt it again—that shift… that familiar coldness creeping in like I’d shed more than metal and peeled off the part of me that still smiled at the sound of Naji’s muttering tics, that sat across from her at dinner and actually listened and made sure her tea was always nice and warm. Without the ring, I didn’t feel like Imanio the husband; I felt like the meaner version of me… Gatez.
“You’re right. Speaking of being married, you said you were married, right?”
“Yes.”
“What does your husband do? I’m not asking because I really give a damn or trying to be all in yo’ business. But knowing a nigga’s job can sometimes tell me a lot about him. Like, if he’s a police officer, I know he’s nosy and thinks rules apply to everybody but him. If he’s military, I know he’s disciplined but probably paranoid as hell. If he’s a lawyer, I know he’s slick, always looking for a loophole. If he’s a street nigga, I know he’s reckless and might just bring heat where it ain’t needed. A job ain’t just a job; it’s a profile. And I need to know what kind of profile I’m dealing with.”
She smirked. “My husband is a corporate actuary. He deals with numbers, risk assessments, retirement projections… things in that range. Makes great money, but he’s basically a calculator in human skin.”
“He sounds boring… and smart, and those the kind who play chess while everybody else is playing spades.”
“He’speaceful. There’s a difference.”
“Fair enough. But yousurehe ain’t crazy? Insecure? The type to follow you around, leave death threats on sticky notes, blow up yo’ phone all night or pull up with a pistol and a prayer if you don’t text back quick enough? I don’t deal in domestic drama. I’m telling you now, if he eventhinksabout pulling up here on some bullshit, like trying to slash my tires or blow my shit up because I need you to stay over a few hours, he’s leaving in an ambulance, a hearse, or a coroner’s van. So, tell me… is he built for peace or problems?”
I wasn’t trying to be rude or scare Saroya off, but I’d had an employee whose boyfriend was on that type of time. Let’s just say I had to let her go—and he disappeared not long after. Saroya seemed cool, though, so I just wanted to give her a fair warning that if anything like that ever happened, not to take it personal.
Saroya laughed, slapping her thigh. “Sounds like an experience you’ve had already. But I can assure you, my husband doesn’t involve himself with any of that… we trust each other and communicate in our household. That’s the only way it works—listening to understand, not just listening to reply. And choosing each other daily, not just on the good days. That’s the kind of glue that holds a marriage together.”
Her expression softened, voice lowering with sincerity. “And since you’re anewlywed, let me tell you now… you’re gonna need that same trust and communication. That’s what carries you through the storms, keeps outsiders out, and keeps yourhome standing strong. Pride can’t talk louder than love. Remember that, and you’ll be alright.”
I nodded, tapping my fingers against the table, mentally storing her advice.
“Noted. Alright… you’ll start on Monday. Angela will get you a key card and brief you on your first-week layout. I don’t do hand-holding, but you’ll have access to my calendar, my staff, my general operations—anything non-sensitive. That includes public events, press correspondences, project releases, and vendor management.”
“And if I abuse that access?” she playfully challenged me.
“Then you’ll be escorted out faster than a side chick at a baby shower.”
Saroya grinned. “Got it. Keep your secrets. Fix your headlines. Look good while doing it.”
I stood, and she did the same.
“I’m not easy to work for, Saroya.”
“Lucky for me, I’m not easy to scare.”
For a moment, there was silence. I respected it.
