Page 23 of Certified Pressure
The voice boomed through the foyer like a car alarm, makin’ everybody turn.
Taffy Royale was stompin’ toward me in her glittery Air Force 1s, rhinestone jumpsuit stretchin’ for dear life, titties bouncin’ with every step. That pink outfit was doin’ the most, but so was she.
“Why all these hoes standin’ around actin’ like they scared to talk to this man?” she said loud enough for the whole foyer to hear. “Y’all here for the prince, right? Then speak up!”
She marched up like she owned the whole jungle estate and her eyes locked with mine. “Pressure Mensah,” she said with her hand across her chest. “I can’t wait to be your wife. You hear me? Not just ‘a’ wife. Yo’ wife.”
I stared at her, smokin’ slow.
“You keep starin’ like that, Pressure, and I’m gon’ get pregnant right here on this marble,” she added, closin’ the distance between us. “You ain’t never gotta worry ’bout goin’ to sleep hungry or horny. I keeps a plate ready, and I eats all my meat off the bone.”
“Whew,” Blaqson muttered, peekin’ from behind his glass.
Renza damn near folded. “Somebody get this woman a ring!”
Taffy boldly kissed the left side of my cheek, and strutted away. I wasn’t even mad. She was wild, but she had presence. She was big as hell, but bold as fuck, and that counted for somethin’.
The other girls parted like waves when she passed, either impressed or irritated.
I shook my head and exhaled smoke, watchin’ the madness unfold. This was some crazy ass shit, but I would be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t amused.
A while later, Blaqson stood in the center of the foyer and clapped his hands once. “A’ight, ladies. Time to get y’all settled.”
He explained the rules real simple. Phones had to be turned off and handed over. They’d be locked away in the media vault and only brought out if needed. If you needed to make a call, you’d be handed a guest phone under supervision. Period.
“Hold up, we can’t have our phones?”
Renza stepped up. “Y’all in Trill-Land, baby, not Love & Hip-Hop. Ain’t no sneak recordin’, no exposés, no ‘I got receipts’ tweets. If you need a phone, one will be provided. But these?” He shook the box. “Dead and gone.”
One by one, they dropped ’em in. Some with side-eyes. Some rollin’ they eyes. One chick kissed hers like she was givin’ up her child.
After that, Blaqson led them upstairs. They followed, heels clickin’, asses jigglin’ and attitudes already formin’. They was split between the East and West wings of the estate, each room decked out with designer bedding, spa robes, and personalized welcome kits.
But it wasn’t long before shit turned up.
The sun had started settin’ and the foyer was damn near clear now, but I could still hear the laughter and excitement echoin’ from upstairs. An hour later, the music was bumpin’ through the walls. Bass vibrated the floors and somebody was playin’ Glorilla. Somebody else was yellin’, “Where the shots at?”
By nightfall, the music was louder, the liquor was flowin’, and a full-blown turn-up had taken over the east lounge. Kay’Lo had connected the surround sound so the music was blastin’. Asses was clappin’, lashes flyin’, and bitches was twerkin’ they asses off like they was at Club Noir Place.
I stepped out to the lounge just in time to see ass everywhere.
Toni Roc, the loudmouth with red hair and a mouth like she ain’t never backed down from nobody was posted up near the snack table, talkin’ loud.
“I wish a bitchwouldtry me,” she said, pointin’ at somethin’ or someone I couldn’t see.
Then came Chanel Banks, classy with a lil’ venom. She had that ‘pretty but don’t try me’ energy. She stepped right up like she wasn’t scared of shit, lookin’ sexy in all lace and lip gloss. She was rollin’ her eyes so hard I thought they was gon’ fall out her skull.
I had been in my room for a lil’ minute, so it was obvious that I had missed the tension between these two.
“Girl, you been mugging me since check-in,” Chanel said, her arms crossed. “You mad or just ugly?”
Toni spun around. “Who you talkin’ to, bitch?”
“Bitch, you! Ain’t nobody scared of you! The fuck?” Chanel shouted, seductively pushin’ her hair from her shoulders even though she had an attitude.
That’s all it took.
They was toe-to-toe before anybody could blink. Hands twitchin’, lashes battin’, and their energy real as fuck. If one of them even breathed wrong, it was gon’ be up.
