Page 150 of Invisible Bars
The humor slipped back in so smooth it almost felt like a setup.
“Not the Gushers, bro.”
He nodded, solemn. “The red ones too.”
“But back to what you was saying about Naji making me soft. Imanio? Maybe… and that’s just a lil’,” I admitted with a smirk. “Gatez? Nah. That nigga will forever stand on business.”
Chi leaned up against his car.
“Never thought I’d see the damn day. Outtaallthe women you done dealt with—Instagram models, bottle girls, the one who faked her own pregnancy for a Gucci bag, Chantel with the pet raccoon, that chick who tried to rob you with a butter knife, and ol’ girl who said y’all was ‘soulmates’ after two text messages—you end up marrying and falling for the oneyoukidnapped. Not to mention the same one who called you a ‘Sniper-hearted sugar daddy’ mid-tic.”
I laughed, shaking my head.
I instantly thought back to when Naji called me what Chi saidanda“tight-chested tyrant in distress”during one of her “I’m-not-fuckin’-with-you” days.
I cracked up. “Yo! She said that shit with herwholechest too. I think her ass was dead serious.”
“You ever wonder if she be faking some of them tics?” he asked, lighting a blunt.
“She did once. I called her ass out, though. But for the most part? Nah, them joints be real as hell. It’s crazy, though; all them females you just mentioned, I ain’t remember half of ‘em til now.”
“That just goes to show how yo’ ass used to be wildin’.”
“Hell, howwewas wildin’,” I shot back.
“True, true.” Chi nodded slowly. “Damn. We really grew up, huh?”
And it hit me… we really had.
From boys running barefoot through broken glass in the projects, to men in suits and hoodies laced with gold chains and enough war stories to fill a book. We used to dream aboutmaking it out, and somehow, against the odds, we did—but not without losses.
We used to party until the sun came up, women in and out like rotating doors. We’d sip liquor with blood still on our hands some nights—celebrating wins we didn’t always earn the right way. We’d been dealers, heartbreakers, street godsandfools. We laughed in the face of death. We buried friends too young. We made peace with shit we had no business surviving.
We both stood there for a moment, eyes locked on nothing.
“You really think you’re ready? To be a one-woman man?” Chi asked, in a serious tone.
The image of Naji curled up in my lap, hair wild, her body lotioned up in that scent she liked, eyes wide at horror movies—yeah, I think I was.
“Yeah. I think so,” I answered honestly.
“It’s time, man,” Chi agreed. “Time to settle down. Get married. Well, yo’ ass already is… even if it is by default.” He smirked. “But yeah, I’m ready to have some babies and sit out on the back porch on the weekend and grill while me and you argue over lawn care like old heads.”
I chuckled. “I’m with all that… except the lawn care part. Nigga, as long as I got money, I ain’t raking no damn leaves, mowing no lawn, trimming no bushes—none of that shit. I know men supposed to do shit like that, but hell… that’s what landscaping companies are for. I’ll pay a whole crew to argue over them leaves.”
Chi laughed. “Facts. Scratch that part. I ain’t built for all that ‘Home Depot on Saturday morning’ shit either.”
We laughed together, and that shit felt good—like medicine. To reminisce on where we came from, the chaos we survived, the dumb decisions that should’ve taken us out… and to realize we weren’t those reckless boys anymore. We’d grown totwo reformed wild boys from the same cracked concrete, still breathing, still standing—finally ready to build something real.
“Speaking of Naji, she wants some more of that same weed you gave her that day. She said it helped her relax and sleep.”
Chi laughed. “Nah now. Girl got good taste. I’ll roll her up something smooth and sexy. Maybe even toss in some lavender for that bedtime bougie vibe. Might add a rose petal if I’m feeling romantic.”
I cut him a look so sharp it made him flinch.
“Too much?”
“Yeah, nigga. She’s trying to relax, not marry the joint.”
