Page 14 of Certified Pressure 3
Blaqson blew smoke out the side of his mouth, smirkin’. “That ain’t even the part I’m talkin’ about. I’m sayin’ shemight’ve did that shit outta spite, bro. You chose Kash, and then boom, now she sayin’ she pregnant. That’s a move, feel me?”
I leaned back, lettin’ his words sink in. I ain’t wanna see it like that, but he wasn’t lyin’ ‘cause the timing was wild. Maybe a part of her did wanna shake shit up, and make sure I couldn’t just walk off clean. Still, deep down, I couldn’t picture Pluto pullin’ somethin’ fake like that. Not when it came to life… not when it came to me.
I exhaled slow, grindin’ my blunt out in the ashtray. “Either way, shit ain’t sweet between me and her right now. I been tryin’ to understand it, but I gotta move forward with Kash. That’s just what it is.”
Renza swirled the dark liquor in his glass, watchin’ the dancers below like he was thinkin’ before he even spoke. Then he looked back at me. “Cuz… do you even love Kashmere?”
I looked him dead in the eyes and nodded. “Yeah, I do. Me and Kash always had chemistry. That’s never been a question. She loud, she wild sometimes, but I love her. Pluto though…” I paused, draggin’ a hand over my beard. “Pluto brought a calm to me I can’t even explain. She ain’t have to say much, just bein’ around her was like… I don’t know, it’s different.”
Renza leaned back with a half-smile, takin’ a sip. “Sound like you tryna say you love two women at the same time.”
Before I could answer, Blaqson laughed. “That’s possible as hell, nigga. I don’t know why y’all act like it ain’t.”
I shrugged, a lil’ smirk playin’ at my lips. “Exactly. Y’all ain’t never been there, so don’t speak on it. I love ‘em both for different reasons. But look… if one of ‘em can’t make up her mind, then I gotta go with the one that can. And that’s Kash. She know what she want, and she want me. I can’t sit around waitin’ on somebody who still tryna figure it out.”
The table went quiet for a second, the music from below fillin’ the space between us. Then both of them nodded slow, respect all over they faces. They knew I wasn’t just talkin’ shit.
Blaqson reached across, holdin’ his glass up. “To you then, nigga. You got a fiancé and a baby on the way. That’s pressure for real.”
Renza chuckled, clinkin’ his glass against mine. “Congrats, cuz. You playin’ on two different boards right now. Engagement and a baby? Nigga, you up.”
I clinked my glass back but shook my head, lettin’ out a sigh that felt heavier than the smoke sittin’ in my chest. They was jokin’, but I knew it wasn’t all sweet. I didn’t even know where Pluto was livin’ now. She swore she wasn’t goin’ back to that ghetto-ass apartment with her toxic-ass parents, but I still needed her location. That’s what bothered me. I refused to be the nigga sittin’ on his hands, waitin’ for her to toss me crumbs of information about my child.
I leaned back, my phone heavy in my pocket. The dancers moved under the lights, money flyin’ around the stage, but my focus was already somewhere else. I pulled my phone out, scrolled to one of my connects, and shot off a quick text:Need a favor.
I ain’t type nothin’ else, ‘cause once they read just that, they was gon’ know what time it was. I wasn’t about to let nobody play gatekeeper with my child. If Pluto wasn’t ready to hand me the details, then I’d make sure I got ‘em myself.
I slid the phone back in my pocket, pickin’ up my glass while Renza and Blaqson argued about which dancer had the best body in the club. On the outside, I looked like I was chillin’, a man enjoyin’ his night with his people, but inside, my mind was already movin’ ten steps ahead.
One way or another, I was gon’ find Pluto, and when I did, there wouldn’t be no question about where I stood in my child’s life.
(Flashback)
When We Were Ten…
Ihad the brightest smile on my face as I watched Pluto twirl around in my mama’s dress. The fabric dragged across the carpet, almost swallowing her up, but she held the sides like she was modeling on a runway, her little chest sticking out as if she was somebody’s grown wife. Her hair was wrapped up in a scarf she’d tied wrong, and the bright red lipstick she had smeared across her mouth stretched way past the corners of her lips. I laughed so hard I almost knocked over the teacup in my hand, but I caught it before it hit the saucer.
We had been playing dress up all day, sneaking into my mama’s closet and jewelry box like we were grown women with a reason to shine. I had on one of her pearl necklaces that was too heavy for my little neck, and my fingers were stuffed with rings that slid right off every time I moved my hands too fast. My dress had a pile of clothes stuffed under it so my stomach looked big and round, and Pluto’s did too. We had decided we were pregnant wives with rich husbands, and we took the role real serious.
Pluto strutted across the room in Mama’s heels that clacked against the floor, her little body wobbling but her face never breaking character. “My husband said he gon’ buy me a big ol’ diamond when I push this baby out,” she announced, patting her fake belly like she was really carrying something inside it.
I sipped from my teacup like it was champagne and rolled my eyes, playing along. “Well, my husband bought me a house with twenty bedrooms last week, so I guess your little diamond don’t mean too much.”
She gasped, stumbling in the heels but catching herself quick. “Girl, you lying. Twenty bedrooms? For what?”
“So my babies can all have their own space,” I said, grinning, “and when I get tired of him, I’mma move to the other side of the house so I don’t gotta hear him snore.”
Pluto dropped down on the carpet beside me, nearly tripping on the dress. We laughed until our stomachs hurt, leaning into each other like we couldn’t breathe without one another. We poured more imaginary tea, pinky fingers in the air like we had seen rich ladies do in movies.
“My husband wears suits every day,” Pluto said, holding her cup close to her mouth, “and when he comes home, he give me money so I can go shopping.”
I nodded proudly, because I had seen my daddy do the same thing with Mama, even if it never seemed to be enoughto keep her happy. “My husband also brings me flowers,” she added, “and he tells me I’m the prettiest girl in the whole world. Prettier than anybody.”
My face softened and I tilted my head. “That’s ‘cause you is.”
We both fell silent for a moment, just staring at each other. Even as kids we knew how to hype each other up, to remind each other that we were worth something. The world didn’t always make us feel that way, but when we were together, we built our own little bubble where nothing bad could get in.
Hours passed like that, the room turning into our stage as we kept pretending, switching roles and acting like we had grown-up problems and grown-up lives. We held our fake bellies and waddled around, laughing about how tired we were of being pregnant and how our fake husbands better rub our feet when they got home. It felt like freedom, like for a little while the house wasn’t heavy with all the things that usually weighed it down.
