Chapter 7 #2
“Yeah, but think about it; s he doesn’t know that. From her perspective, you’re the Big Bad Wolf with the marble floors and locked gates. Me? I’m the quirky sidekick with jokes and bad timing. If she gon’ kill anybody in their sleep, it’s gon’ be yo’ ass!”
Chi wandered closer.
“It doesn’t look like she has bathed either.”
“She hasn’t.”
“So you just gon’ let her funk the whole damn room up like that? Bro, be for real. That hoodie probably got its own heartbeat by now. Yo’ ass better get in there before her scent signs a lease and starts paying rent. That room about to need an exorcism and Febreze sponsorship.”
He shook his head.
“So basically, the girl’s just voluntarily fasting, stressing in silence, and saying ‘no thanks’ to basic survival?”
“That’s what it looks like.”
“Well, what you plan on doing with her? You can’t keep her in there forever like Rapunzel, bro. What if she got a job or some shit? Like, responsibilities. Hell, do you even know her middle name?”
"I know enough… her name, her past. I did the research. I’ve also been looking more into her condition. It’s more complicated than I thought. She’s probably overwhelmed as fuck right now."
Chi raised a brow. "Oh, so now you’re Dr. Phil with a body count?"
"I’m serious," I said.
“I know; that’s what makes it scary,” he muttered, then casually popped a grape in his mouth like we weren’t standing in the middle of a conversation that could land both our asses in matching orange jumpsuits.
“I’ve been thinking about a few things,” I begin.
“Is that so? Well, I’m ready to hear what brilliant ideas you’ve come up with,” Chi joked.
I rubbed my jaw. “I need to talk to her. Not force it. Not interrogate. Just... talk.”
“Like, y’all go on a date and talk?”
I frowned. “Hell nah, nigga.”
“Oooooh, more like... ‘Hey! Sorry I snatched you from your regular life, but how’s your mental health?’ type shit?”
“Just a regular conversation. Maybe we can work something out.”
I paused, then rubbed the back of my neck and exhaled, already bracing myself for the roast session I knew was coming.
I knew Chi was gonna clown the hell out of me the second I told him the solution I came up with.
He wasn’t the type to let anything slide.
Dude could be halfway across the world and still find a way to FaceTime just to laugh in my face like a damn hyena.
Hell, he probably had jokes lined up in his Notes app just waiting for moments like that one.
But I didn’t see another way out, and even if it sounded wild out loud… it made sense in my head.
Sort of.
“I might end up marrying her. That’s one of my brilliant ideas,” I revealed.
Chi immediately started choking… for real—choking, coughing and gripping his chest like the ghost of the grape was trying to kill him.
I didn’t rush to his aid. I just tilted my head slightly and asked, calm as hell, “Yo… you aight?”
“Yeah, no thanks to yo’ emotionally unavailable ass!” Chi wheezed dramatically, still fanning his chest. “You could’ve hit me on the back or something, nigga! Hell, at least pretend to look concerned! Blink twice, gasp, shed a single thug tear— something! ”
I shrugged. “You sounded like you needed Jesus more than medical help.”
“I needed both! And a Heimlich hug, dammit!” he barked. “So you was just gon’ let a nigga die over a witness proposal? That’s what we doing now?”
“Nah… I would've stepped in if you turned purple. You was still breathing, so I figured you had a few more coughs left in you.”
Chi’s eyes stretched in size like he was appalled by my insensitiveness.
“Purple?! That’s the bar now? I gotta be plum-colored before you give a damn?!” He shook his head, popping another grape anyway like the one before didn’t just betray him. “Yo’ ass ain’t right. I’ma remember this shit!”
Chi massaged his throat like he just dodged death.
“Nigga, you know I’m just fuckin’ with you.”
I really was.
I’d never let that nigga die—not on my watch.
We might joke reckless, throw playful insults, but that nigga was my brother…
day one. I’d stop the whole world from spinning before I let anything or anyone take him out if some shit went down while he was in my presence.
Even if I didn’t say it out loud, he knew. Just like I knew he’d do the same.
“Yeah, yeah. But fuck all of that. Let’s get back to what the fuck you said before I was about to meet my maker. You’re thinking about wifing the witness?”
“Yeah. To keep her silent and for my protection. That way, legally, nobody can make her testify against me if that shit was to get out.”
Chi stared at me like I told him I was about to move to Mars.
“Bro,” he finally said, “you was supposed to kidnap her, ask a few questions, maybe even threaten her a little— not drop to one knee and have Dess start planning the damn wedding décor and playlist. You skipped twenty steps and went straight to vows . What happened to just… bribing her with Chick-fil-A meal and some hush money?”
“Bribes don’t come with legal immunity. Besides, it won’t be a romantic marriage.”
Chi paused mid-pace like the words physically tripped him.
“It’s insane, though!” he shot back.
“It’s strategic,” I stated.
“It’s something, alright!” Chi chuckled like the whole world had officially gone off the rails. “You know how you normally stay on that line between genius and felony? Nigga, you just swan-dove over that bitch.”
“Look at it this way—she wouldn’t have to struggle again,” I said, mostly to myself.
“And how do you even know she was struggling? Bro, that girl could’ve been at the most peaceful place in her life.”
I glanced at him, jaw tight. “Nobody walks through this world without scars. Peace don’t last—not here.”
“Or maybe,” Chi countered, leaning forward now, voice lower, “ you don’t believe peace exists ‘cause you never let yourself touch it. Don’t project your hell onto her life.”
I didn’t say it out loud, but I felt it—the reminder of who Chi was.
Again, he was one in my circle who’d check me without hesitation and speak his mind even when he knew it could put me in a foul mood.
Most people would’ve swallowed their tongue.
But Chi? He never did. He had a way of poking holes in my armor, forcing me to face shit I’d rather bury.
I hated it. I respected it. And sometimes, I needed it… even if I’d never admit that out loud.
Chi folded his arms. “Bro, you’re thinking long-term, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact we technically kidnapped her a few days ago, and now you’re talking marriage.”
“I’m not saying we’re about to ride off into the sunset. I’m saying she’s already tied to me now—might as well do it in a way that benefits both of us.”
Chi shook his head in disbelief. “Imanio, you’re a different breed. You’re really proposing a hostage-to-housewife pipeline and expecting me to roll with it.”
“You been rolling this long, might as well keep the wheels turning.”
“Bro, I’m usually down for the wild and crazy, spur-of-the-moment type of shit, but I don’t know about this.”
“Chi, she ain’t touched a damn plate since she’s got here. She hasn’t screamed… not at me, per se. She ain’t even tried to run or fight back. Hell, the most walking she’s done is to the damn bathroom! That has to mean something!”
Chi stopped mid-chew and replied, “Yeah, nigga… that she’s scared out her damn mind.”
I glanced back at the security monitor.
“That too.” I cracked my knuckles. “But scared people are either quiet or calculated. She hasn’t asked any questions since she’s been here. She didn’t even ask to leave. I think she’s tired, not stupid.”
“Bro, you dragged that girl out of her comfort zone, stuffed her in a black SUV with two armed strangers, put her in some fancy-ass jail suite, and now you think silence means she trusts you? That girl is probably crying on the inside, talking to God, and trying to figure out if she’s dead already! ”
I didn’t respond right away, because Chi wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t right either.
“ I think if I explain the terms, she might agree.”
Chi leaned forward, pointing at me. “Nigga, you’re not slick. That ain’t just strategy talk; you’ve been watching her like she’s your favorite soap opera. Yo’ ass is emotionally invested.”
“I’m making sure she doesn’t pass out, fool.”
“Aww. That’s sweet… in a psycho kind of way.”
I put my focus back on Naji.
The longer I stared at the monitor, the more uncomfortable I got. Naji, even though she wasn’t locked up, she was still stuck, and that part didn’t sit right with me.
Chi, as always, didn’t let silence linger too long.
“I’m being serious. You sure you’re not lowkey catching feelings? Like… hostage syndrome in reverse?”
I looked at him. “She ain’t a hostage, though.”
He scoffed. “ You’re right… this is a kidnapping with a luxury twist. No zip ties.
You’re not hovering over her with a weapon .
You’re not starving her or force-feeding her no prison food through a doggie door.
She’s not getting beaten daily . She’s not locked in some mildew-smelling basement with rats braiding her hair at night.
She’s got a private room and bathroom. She’s got clean, high thread count sheets on a bed she refuses to sleep in, free Wi-Fi, AC, lavender linen spray, fresh, and the best food made by one of the best chefs. Hell, she even has options!
I ain’t never seen a hostage get to choose between salmon or lamb chops.
Sure, she got all this luxury shit—marble floors, a chef, probably heated toilet seats—but let’s not act like she ain’t still trapped.
The girl can’t call nobody. She has no access to communicate with the outside world.
Hell, she can’t even get Uber Eats if she wanted to without your permission.
So you’re right, she’s not a hostage and this isn’t a kidnapping; this is Airbnb with trauma. And honestly, I don’t know if that’s worse or better. Adding to that, you got damn retina scanners on the gate! This place might as well be Alcatraz with room service!”
“You done?” I asked dryly.
Chi leaned back like he’d made a valid point.
“Yeah, but just know, if I ever get kidnapped, I want yo’ ass to do it. At least then I’d be laid up in a plush ass room, watching Netflix, eating cinnamon rolls off silver trays while I ‘fear for my life’ in designer socks.”
I exhaled through my nose, not amused but too tired to argue.
“On some real shit, though, nigga, Giselle gon’ tear yo’ ass a new hole if you bring a kidnapped bride to her house… one with Tourette’s at that. You know she already think everybody under six figures got fleas.”
I shrugged. "I don’t care. She’ll live.”
“You don’t care? Bro, the girl threw a tic so hard yesterday she yelled ‘Pancake Jesus’!
What the hell you think she gon’ say in front of yo’ folks?
The board of investors? What if she tic out mid-event and start shouting Bible verses at the ribbon-cutting?
‘ In the name of Leviticus, let there be condos !’ You think that's gon' help yo’ stock price?”
“I’ll have her back,” I replied a little too fast for my liking that I almost cursed myself.
“You? Imanio Kors will have her back? Man, get the hell out of here! You don’t even text back!
You return calls like they come with a fee.
You and Glitchy gon’ be a whole gospel duo at a grand opening.
‘Imanio it was about protecting her… Even from herself.