Page 28 of Invisible Bars
Chi looked offended. “Aye, first of all, they ain’t explain it right in health class. And second, that rash wasangry,bro. But back to Glitch. Next time we get ready to murk somebody, I’m bringing holy water and headphones. This shit done traumatized me.”
“Nigga, you act like you don’t love scary movies.”
“Exactly!” Chi threw his hands up. “Movies,nigga! This ain’t Netflix—this is real life! There weren’t any credits rolling while she was screaming! All I’m saying is… I don’t like it! She got good peripheral vision; probably saw everything! Probably got a diary! Probably listens to podcasts! Probably got a TikTok following! That’s how snitching starts, man!”
“She’s not gonna say anything,” I reassured Chi, trying to convince myself more than him. “The girl twitched over five times and yelled “peppermint” like it was a damn safe word. She ain’t built for pressure; she’s built for puzzles, tea parties, and indie bookshops. Trust me, she’s not gonna snitch.”
Chi looked up at the building. Her apartment window still glowed. Then he glanced back at me.
“You wanna betyo’life on that?”
I said nothing.
Chi’s smirk deepened. “Ohhh, okay. I see what’s going on. You think she’s cute, huh? Never thought I’d see the day when you’d catch feelings in the middle of a cleanup.”
“Shut up.”
“Nah, I get it. The whole crazy glitchy thing gotta be a new one for you, huh? She’s fine too. She got that. ‘accidentally saw a murder and got kidnapped’ energy.”
I exhaled sharply then opened the car door, ready to put that night behind me.
“Yo, serious talk, Imanio. If we don’t grab her, and she sings, this shit could end bad. I know you hate yo’ fuckin’ career, and I hate it with you, but bro, I didn’t think the way you wanted out was by going to prison. I say we go back in there, get the glitchy tea girl, and keep her somewhere quiet until we figure this out. Ain’t gotta be messy. She’s small. We just... scoop her.”
I stared straight ahead, jaw tight, pondering his words.
I didn’t want to hurt her… but could I trust her?
She looked innocent, yeah, but so did oatmeal before people started dying of cholesterol. One wrong move from her, and my mama was gonna be on the news talking about,“I raised a good boy. I don’t know where I went wrong.”
I’d worked too hard to keep Gatez separate from Imanio Kors. In real estate, I was the face of clean success. In the streets? A ghost who handled business before the sun even stretched. If I wanted to keep both sides from collapsing, I had to make sure ol’ girl kept her mouth closed.
Chi grinned. “You doing that thing where you’re about to tell me, ‘You right, nigga.’ Go ahead. I’ll wait.”
“Look,” I sighed. “Let’s go in and get her. But don’t yell, jump out at her… or none of that goofy shit. I think it’s what triggers the twitching.”
“Bro, I’d never do anything to intentionally harm my sister-in-law,” Chi said with fake sincerity, placing a hand over his chest. “You got my word.”
“Nigga, bring yo’ ass!”
“Aight. But do you think we’ll need the needle?” Chi asked, dead serious.
I side-eyed him. “What needle?”
Chi patted his pockets like he was looking for car keys.
“The needle!” He held it up. “You know… the nap-nap. The night-night. Theshhh, go to sleepneedle. For when words don’t work, and chloroform just feels too aggressive.”
“Nigga, where the hell did you even get a needle?”
“My cousin works at a vet clinic. She said it works on aggressive dogs, side-chicks who overstay their welcome,andin-laws. Thought I’d keep one on me just in case a ‘yo bro, I gotcha next week’ pop up again.”
I stared at Chi like he’d lost the last functioning brain cell.“Nigga, put that shit away! Walking around with sleepy juice in yo’ pocket like you, Dora, with a felony backpack. You gon’ fuck around and stab yo’self and wake up in heaven talking ‘bout, ‘Where Blu at?’ Come on, nigga.”
I didn’t know what we were about to walk into. Maybe she’d calmed down—I hoped so. Maybe she was still crying, pacing, talking to the wall, or curled up under a blanket like the world had turned against her. Maybe she was on the phone with her best friend talking about the fine, mysterious, man she just watched take a life like it was nothing. The kind of man she knew she should’ve ran from but couldn’t stop looking at. Hell, maybe she had a suitcase by the door and was planning to disappear before I even got back in. Or worse… maybe she called the police.
Worst case scenario: she swallowed a fistful of pills, hoping it would numb the memory, the fear, or the thought of me showing back up… assuming death would feel gentler than whatever she thought I might do.
I really hoped she hadn’t done that stupid ass shit.
