Page 52 of Certified Pressure
She looked up at me, and for a second she didn’t say nothin’. Then she reached out and gently grabbed my hand.
That one touch pulled somethin’ in me I ain’t felt in a long time. It was real soft, and careful, like the way she used to hold me when I was losin’ my mind and didn’t wanna admit it. The way she used to look at me when she thought I wasn’t payin’ attention.
Her eyes were searchin’ mine like she wanted to say somethin’ else, but she didn’t.
Instead, she whispered, “Thank you.”
I swallowed hard and nodded, not trustin’ myself to say much else.
“Get your man to the doctor,” I muttered, pullin’ my hand back slow. “And tell him next time, I ain’t aiming for legs.”
With that, I walked past her and made my way back down the stairs. My heart was still poundin’.
I climbed back into my Maybach, wiped the sweat off my forehead, and sat there for a minute in silence.
I did what I had to do. But damn… I still didn’t feel better. Not with Ka’mari’s handprint still lingerin’ on mine, and with the memory of her eyes burnin’ through me like maybe…she wasn’t as over me as she wanted the world to believe.
And that part fucked me up the most.
Trill-Land, Jungle Estate
Later that night, I was back in my room, sittin’ in silence, just lettin’ everything settle.
As soon as I came back to the crib I walked past everybody without sayin’ shit. I dropped my keys on the dresser the second I came in and kicked off my shoes by the door, but I hadn’t even moved since then. I was still wearin’ the same all-black I pulled up on Donovan in, and my shirt still smelled like smoke and sweat from earlier. The Glock I used to bust Ka’mari’s door open was sittin’ on my nightstand beside a half-burnt Palo Santo stick and the bracelet she bought me years ago that I never took out the box.
My room was dim and the only light came from the wall sconces on either side of the bed, and even they felt like too much.
My head was fucked up, and not just from what went down, but from howshefelt when she grabbed my hand.
It had been years since I touched Ka’mari, but the second her fingers locked with mine, it was like time bent in the middle and threw me right back to when shit made sense. When her voice could calm me down, and her hugs used to feel like home.
I sat forward and rubbed my palms down my face.
All this time I been tryin’ to convince myself I was good, and that I had moved on… That what we had was dead and gone and I needed to focus on the future, but tonight, she reminded me that the shit between us never really died.
It just went quiet…
And now here I was, with a mansion full of bad ass women tryna earn a crown, but my thoughts still driftin’ back to a girl who already wore it—at least in a way none of them could.
I ain’t even mean to question everything, but I couldn’t help it.
Did I really think any of these females could fill Ka’mari’s shoes? Could they understand me the way she did? Could they look past the title, the money, the jungle estate, the wholePrince Pressureshit—and reallyseeme?
I fucked with a few of them—Kashmere, Toni Roc, Pluto, even Jayla and Renae had somethin’ about them that stood out. But Kashmere was the only one I had touched likethat,and I guess that’s why she stood out the most.
With these women, it was vibe, presence, the way they moved around me, and even with that, I still ain’t know if any of ‘em had it in ‘em to really hold me down if shit hit the fan for real. Not like Ka’mari used to, or like she still might, even after all this time.
I stood up slow and walked over to the custom bar built into the far wall, where the glass shelves held bottles most people had never even heard of. I reached for the D’Ussé XO and poured up in a crystal glass. I let my two fingers swirl in it a little before takin’ that first sip. The liquor was smooth and warm, slidin’ down my throat.
I set the glass down, opened the drawer beneath the bar, and grabbed one of my personal pre-roll packs. I unwrapped a fresh cone and packed it tight with God Smoke, pressin’ the flower down with the flat end of a ring I had slid off my finger.
This was my process. When the world got loud, I slowed it down like liquor and weed.
I sparked the blunt, let it burn even across the tip, then took a deep pull.
That first hit mellowed my thoughts.
I walked back to the bed, sat on the edge, and leaned forward with my elbows on my knees, watchin’ the smoke curl toward the ceiling fan as it spun lazy above me.
