Page 1 of Certified Pressure
Drahma Town
Iwas on my third glass of that Ultra Clase Azul—that top-shelf shit they didn’t even sell to regular niggas. It was the kind of liquor you ain’t supposed to drink like juice, but I was damn near gulpin’ it. The section was lit, the lights low and purple, and the air smelled like money, shea butter, and Chanel body oil. One of the baddest dancers in Noir Place was on stage doin’ some acrobatic shit on the pole like she ain’t have no bones in her body. The whole crowd was goin’ crazy, throwin’ stacks, but my eyes wasn’t really focused on none of that.
I was leanin’ back in the plush velvet booth like a king gettin’ bored with his kingdom. The Cuban link was heavy ’round my neck, my wrist flooded, but my mind flooded even worse. I was surrounded by luxury and ass, but all I could think aboutwas that triflin’ ass girl Ka’mari. The same one who told me she couldn’t do this shit no more, said I was too selfish, too controllin’, too… me. Now she got the nerve to be gettin’ married tomorrow… To a nigga named Donovan.
Donovan.
That shit still sounded like a joke every time I said it in my head. Nigga sound like he teach Sunday school and cry at gender reveals. That’s who she chose over me. I might be crazy, yeah, I’ll own that, but I ain’t never gave her a reason to question my heart. My heart good. A lil twisted maybe, but it beat for her every damn day. Even now.
“Yo, you drinkin’ like you tryna blackout or confess somethin’ to God,” Renza said from across the section, already halfway through his bottle of D’USSÉ like he ain’t have a liver.
I ignored him, and stared straight ahead as another dancer with gold body glitter climbed the pole. She was fine, thick in all the right places, lace front flawless, smile bright, but she wasn’t Ka’mari.
“Here he go,” Kay’Lo chimed in, grinnin’ like he already knew the direction I was headed. “Nigga, I swear, if you bring up Ka’mari one more time tonight?—”
“I ain’t say her name, nigga,” I cut in.
“Yeah, but youthinkin’that shit loud as hell,” Renza said, leanin’ over to pour more liquor in my glass like I wasn’t already floatin’. “Your crazy ass always get like this when we get around other bitches. Look around, Pressure. It’s hoes in here damn near naked, twerkin’ upside down, and you over there cryin’ in Clase Azul over a bitch that don’t even like you no more.”
I smirked, but it didn’t reach my eyes.
“She don’t gotta like me,” I muttered. “She still mine.”
Kay’Lo dropped his blunt mid-laugh. “This nigga here. That girl is engaged. Goin’ to the altar tomorrow. Probably gettin’ hernails done right now while you sittin’ here mad like you her man and her mama at the same time.”
Renza cracked up, noddin’ hard. “Talkin’ ‘bout ‘she still mine’ like he got stock in the pussy. Nigga, the IPO done closed.”
I took another slow sip and looked both them fools dead in they face. “Y’all done?”
They both laughed harder, but I was dead serious. I didn’t joke when it came to Ka’mari. She blocked me on everything, even got another nigga to put a ring on it, but I still watched from a distance. I still had tabs on her schedule. I knew where she shopped, where she worked out, where she got them stupid little matcha lattes from. Her wedding was tomorrow at one p.m. sharp, and I knew the exact church. I even knew where “Donovan” was havin’ his bachelor’s party.
This was betrayal, and she was walkin’ into it happy as hell like I ain’t love her the best way I knew how. Nah, that shit didn’t sit right with me, not even a little.
Kay’Lo leaned in, squintin’ at me. “Yo, Pressure… I know that look. That’s that ‘bout to do some dumb shit’ look. That’s the same face you had when you made that dude eat his own chain ‘cause he called you lil’ bro.”
“Right,” Renza said, shakin’ his head.
I finally took another sip from my glass and shrugged. “Nigga should’ve watched his mouth.”
“You unwell,” Kay’Lo said, shakin’ his head. “I hope you know that.”
I didn’t respond. I just leaned forward, set my drink down, and stood up slow. The girls across the club kept glancin’ toward our section, hopin’ to catch my attention. Some already knew who I was—the heir of Da Trill, hood royalty with too much money and a short fuse. Others just saw a fly-ass nigga with diamonds on and assumed I was somebody to fuck. They were all beautiful, but none of them was her.
Renza noticed the shift in my energy immediately. “Aye, what you on?”
I pulled my shirt over the gun on my waist and grabbed my phone off the table. “Come ride with me real quick.”
“Where we goin’?” Kay’Lo asked, already standin’ up too, ‘cause he knew better than to let me walk out alone.
I didn’t answer. I grabbed the keys off the table and started headin’ toward the exit.
Renza looked at Kay’Lo with his eyebrows raised. “This nigga finna do somethin’ stupid.”
Kay’Lo shrugged and followed behind. “When don’t he?”
We walked through the club, passin’ the dancers, the ballers, the wannabes, the dope boys, and them niggas that just hang around in sections to say they was there. Eyes followed us like always. The bouncer at the door gave me a respectful nod and stepped aside without sayin’ a word. Everybody knew not to stop Pressure Mensah when he was movin’ with purpose or madness… same difference.
Outside, the night air hit a little cold, but I didn’t feel it. Renza finally asked again, “Where we goin’, Pressure?”
