Page 116 of Invisible Bars
“And I’ve told you to stop pretending like saying it makes you lessBlack,”I shot back, calm and direct.
Giselle gasped sharply, her lips parting like she wanted to argue—but nothing came out.
It didn’t matter; I wasn’t done.
“Giselle, you don’t get to pick your roots just ’cause they embarrass you now,” I continued, stepping in closer. “You can parade around like you were born in pearls and privilege or wrapped in lace and lipstick, but when all that comes off, you’re stillblack…andstillGigi from the Gardens. The hood never left you; you just stopped claiming it.”
She turned her face slightly, blinking hard like my words were smoke stinging her eyes.
I stepped back, letting the fire cool off just enough.
“I’m not your project. You don’t get to shape my life to fix your past.”
I let that sit.
“I will have you know that I hired another publicist, so your services are no longer needed.”
“You did what?!” she shrieked, drawing the attention of a few crew members still packing up their equipment.
“You heard me. And lower your damn voice,” I said through clenched teeth. “There are too many people with cameras in here, just praying for a viral moment.”
“Well then, let’s take this somewhere private,” she snapped, turning on her heel and marching off toward the closed-off kitchen area.
Reluctantly, I followed.
Giselle barely let the door close behind us before she turned around.
“Now say that again—tell me what ridiculous shit just came out of your mouth.”
“IsaidI hired a publicist. On my own… without theGiselle Kors Executive Stamp of Approval.”
“Without me?!” Her eyes blazed. “You do realize I’ve been managing your image ever since the last girl walked out, right? I’m the reason half these people even take you seriously!”
“And I appreciate it. But it was time I hired my own crisis management—quietly. Without you micromanaging every damn thing I wear, say, or breathe.”
“So… so you’re firing me? That’s what this is now?”
“I didn’t say fired; I said… no longer needed,” I clarified with a slow shrug.
“Oh. So I’m just being phased out like some seasonal Macy’s hire?! I take it this new publicist is going to double as your assistant too, huh?! She better! Because who’s gonna dress you? Lord knows you think black-on-black with a black hat is high fashion! You wore a damn hoodie to a fundraiser, Imanio!”
“And I raised more money than the guy in the $12,000 velvet blazer and bowtie. Closed on a $48 million condo the next morning. Try again.”
She folded her arms, still simmering. “So who is this new girl? And why isn’t she by your side at an interview this big?”
“Her son got sick. She had to go pick him up from school.”
Giselle reared her head back like I’d slapped her.
“Imanio, wait—are you seriously telling me you hired someone withkids? I didn’t care much for the last publicist, but at least she didn’t have to leave meetings early to run to daycare or school. Well, she got pregnant,sure—but that was toward the end. At least she kept her priorities straight while she was here.”
I stared at her… really stared. Then I took a step forward.
“You hear yourself right now? You’re dragging a woman for choosing her child over a damn interview? Over a camera? You think that’s weakness? Nah. That’s strength. That’s character, Giselle. That’s the kind of person I want managing my name—someone who knows how to balance pressure and humanity.”
She blinked, saying nothing.
“See, that’s your problem,” I continued, eyes locked on hers. “You treat people like tools…. accessories. You only value them as long as they’re useful toyou. And if life gets in the way—if they get sick, pregnant, or God forbid, have kids who depend on them—you toss them like expired lipstick.”
