Chapter 5
Chapter Five
IMANIO “GATEZ”
T he doors burst open as we stepped out, the fresh night air slapping us in the face like it knew what we’d just escaped. Chi was two steps ahead, throwing wild glances over his shoulder like the building might come alive and chase us.
“Bro, I’ve known yo’ ass to be calm, but not in life or death situations!”
I adjusted my watch, then responded, “If you paid attention, you would’ve noticed that our panic seemed to heighten hers.”
“Heighten?! Nigga, you acting like we was adjusting a thermostat! That girl damn near rebooted in front of us like a possessed Alexa, as many times she gasped, blinked, and twitched! It felt like she had six different personalities, and one of them hated us personally!”
“You done?” I asked, unfazed.
“ Almost! I’m trying to figure out why you just stood there like it was a damn meditation retreat!”
“Because our yelling, yours to better put it, wasn’t helping,” I explained.
“I wasn’t yelling; I was warning! There’s a difference between being loud and trying not to get bit by somebody cussin’ out the microwave! You ever heard of survival instincts? ‘Cause I got ‘em.”
Chi pulled out his vape pen, took a long drag, and blew out a slow stream of smoke like a stressed out uncle or like he’d just clocked out of a job he hated.
“You really gon’ let her just vibe upstairs like you didn’t just paint the wall with Blu’s skull?”
I didn’t respond right away.
We stood across from Blu Notes, where we parked. The street was quiet now. Nobody dared hang around long after a place that played blues all night fell silent.
Blu’s body had been cocooned in industrial plastic, layered and taped until it looked less like a man and more like a problem ready to be carried.
We moved him quickly—no dramatics, no prayers.
Then we dumped the bloodied tablecloth in a trash bag with the bullet casing and sanitized what we could; the bleach would do the rest.
I leaned against the whip and folded my arms, with my eyes locked on the upstairs window.
She was still up there. Still breathing. Still twitching.
While Chi talked, my mind kept drifting back to her.
The way her eyes went wide with horror… how she trembled like her body was fighting itself just to stay quiet. That shoulder jerk. That hand flick. The way her jaw clenched so tight it looked painful.
She had Tourette’s—said it herself, barely got the words out while panicking. I’d heard of the condition in passing—never cared enough to learn more. But seeing it up close? On someone like her? It pissed me off .
I wasn’t pissed at her, but at the world.
At how someone like her had to live in it, twitching through fear and tiptoeing through triggers.
And now she’d seen something she shouldn’t have; witnessed a bullet turn a man into a memory.
That shit would eat at her or worse… break her.
Either way, I’d be the one holding the pieces.
She cried like she thought I was the kind of man who’d kill her next. I was . But something about the way she whimpered and begged like she was already half-dead… it cracked something in me.
I don’t know why I care; I usually don’t. But this? Her? This is different… and it’s scaring the hell out of me.
“She’s not gonna talk,” I finally said, my voice quiet but certain.
Chi raised an eyebrow. “Did you interrogate her, or just intimidate her?”
“She was scared,” I slightly defended.
“Nah, she was glitching! Don’t act like you ain’t see that little shoulder spasm mid-plea—she was buffering, bro.”
I didn’t laugh. Instead, I rubbed a hand down my jaw, sighed, and finally revealed, “She got Tourette’s, Chi.”
Chi scrunched his face up in lack of intelligence. “She got a what ?”
“Tourette’s, nigga!” I repeated, slower that time. “It’s a condition that causes her to have tics—movements, sounds, and outbursts she can’t control.”
Chi stared, mouth slightly open, like his brain was buffering now.
“Yo, for real?”
I nodded. “Dead ass.”
Chi’s face twisted with a mix of sympathy and confusion.
“Damn. So... she’s not cursed?”
I gave him the slowest side-eye in human history.
“Nah, nigga! It’s not demonic possession; i t’s a medical condition.”
Chi blinked a few more times, processing the information.
“Well, damn. Now I feel bad for wanting to look around for a priest. And how you know so much about that condition? You’re a neurologist now?”
I gave him that classic dry stare. “I’m a grown man who knows how to Google and listen when folks explain their damn condition. You still the same nigga that thought eczema was contagious.”
Chi looked offended. “Aye, first of all, they ain’t explain it right in health class. And second, that rash was angry, 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 bet yo’ 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. The shhh, go to sleep needle. 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, and in-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.
Despite everything, I wasn’t trying to be her nightmare, but damn if the night wasn’t already one.