Page 54 of Certified Pressure 3 (Certified Pressure #3)

Trill-Land, Jungle Estate

Tonight was my bachelor’s party and I was gettin’ fresher than a peppermint.

Kashmere was out doin’ her own thing, probably runnin’ around with her bridesmaids takin’ pictures or gettin’ last-minute touches done for tomorrow.

I wasn’t thinkin’ about none of that right now. I was thinkin’ about tonight.

I stood in front of the mirror in my room, half-dressed and focused on the reflection lookin’ back at me.

My chain glistened under the lights from the ceiling, heavy and thick across my chest. The Cuban link was custom-made by Eliantte, a quarter-million piece that could blind a man under club lights.

My rings was all white gold, stacked with diamonds that caught every bit of shine they could find.

My watch sat on the dresser, an Audemars Piguet Royal Oak with a black dial and diamond bezel worth more than some people’s houses.

Two hundred racks clean, sittin’ there lookin’ perfect next to my car keys and blunt tray.

I slid the AP onto my wrist and adjusted it till it sat just right.

My shirt was black silk, fitted but open enough to show my chest. My skin glowed from the oil I had just put on, and my beard was thick, shaped up, and glistenin’ under the light.

The barber had got me right earlier with a clean fade with my waves sittin’ low and tight.

I brushed them once more just to make sure they hit right.

I picked up my cologne from the dresser, Maison Francis Kurkdjian Baccarat Rouge 540, and sprayed it across my neck and shirt, lettin’ that rich scent fill the air.

The smell alone made the room feel expensive.

I looked at myself one more time and smirked.

I had on black Amiri pants that fit clean, a silk button-down that left my chest out just enough, and fresh Saint Laurent boots.

Every part of me looked like I had money but the way I carried it made it mean somethin’ more.

I wasn’t dressed just to flex. I was dressed like a man who knew who he was.

My phone buzzed on the dresser. Renza had texted me talkin’ about, Nigga, we here, where you at?

On the way, I texted back.

They had already been gone for an hour, probably halfway drunk by now.

I slid my chain straight, grabbed my keys, and walked out my room.

The house was quiet, and the lights dimmed just the way I liked it.

When I got outside, I hit the remote and my whip unlocked.

It was a matte black Ferrari SF90 Spider sittin’ low in the driveway with the seats wrapped in matte black leather and red trim.

That was one of my babies. I opened the door, climbed in, and started it up.

The engine purred low at first then roared as I pressed the gas.

I lit up and took a slow pull from the blunt I rolled earlier and let the smoke drift out the window.

The glow from the cherry lit my face as I drove and the city lights bounced off the windshield.

I had Key Glock playin’ low in the background, that real get-money music that always put me in my zone.

The road ahead was wide open and for the first time all day, I felt light.

There was no pressure, or thoughts about tomorrow; just me ridin’ through the night.

As I hit the highway toward the strip club, I thought about how wild the last few months had been.

All the therapy sessions, the baby shower, the appointments and nights sittin’ up thinkin’ too hard.

Tomorrow was supposed to be my weddin’, but tonight was the last time I was gonna breathe without expectations. I wasn’t about to waste it stressin’.

The Diamond Den in Drahma Town

When I walked in the strip club, all eyes was on me.

The DJ seen me first and grabbed the mic, yellin’ my name over the music like it was a whole announcement.

“Trill-Land’s own Prince Pressure in the buildin’ tonight!

” he shouted, and the crowd went crazy. Renza, Kay’Lo, and Blaqson had rented the whole club out, so it was just us and people we actually fucked with.

We ain’t have no randoms, just a private night full of liquor, smoke, and skin.

The club was dark, with blue and purple lights hittin’ the walls, bouncin’ off the mirrors and stripper poles.

Women was everywhere, all shapes and shades, slidin’ up and down poles, hangin’ from the ceilin’.

The smell of perfume, liquor, and weed mixed together and filled the whole place.

Money covered the floor like carpet, and the bass from the speakers shook through my chest.

In the corner, one of my potnas was sittin’ with a drink in each hand, laughin’ so loud he could barely breathe while a thick dancer bent over in front of him.

Another group of my people was surrounded by women, gettin’ lap dances and throwin’ stacks like they was tryna make it snow.

It was wild in here, but it felt good. The energy was loose with no rules, no drama. It was just people lettin’ go.

Kay’Lo spotted me first and threw his hands up. “Aye, my nigga finally here! ‘Bout time you showed up!”

I walked through the crowd, the smell of hookah and liquor hittin’ me at once. The dancers turned their heads when I passed, a few of them stoppin’ mid-move to reach for me. I gave light smiles but kept movin’. I wasn’t tryna feed into none of it too early.

Renza handed me a bottle when I got to VIP. “‘Bout time you pulled up, nigga. You know we ain’t lettin’ you leave till you lit tonight.”

I took the bottle and grinned. “Say less.”

I poured up heavy, took a long sip, and let that warmth hit my chest. The music was loud, makin’ any type of conversation pointless. The DJ was mixin’ trap and R&B, throwin’ in songs that made the dancers move slower as they hips rolled in rhythm with the lights.

As the night went on, I could feel myself loosin’ up. Every time I looked around, somebody was laughin’ or yellin’ or throwin’ money. Women started driftin’ over to our section, climbin’ onto laps, whisperin’ in ears and brushin’ against skin like they was tryna hypnotize us.

A dancer with long red hair slid over to me and smiled. “You the groom, right?”

“Somethin’ like that,” I said, lettin’ her sit on my lap. She smelled good, sweet but strong. I watched her move to the beat while I sipped from my cup. She kept talkin’ but I wasn’t really listenin’. My mind was somewhere else.

After a while, I pulled my phone out and looked at it for a second. I don’t even know what made me do it, but before I could stop myself, I went to Pluto’s name and typed, How’s my lil’ man?

I stared at the screen for a second then she hit me back. I ain’t expect her to reply right away, but she did. He’s fine. Been kickin’ all day.

That small message made me sit back and smile. I could picture her rubbin’ her stomach with that calm look on her face when she felt him move. The thought made my heart warm.

I typed back, That’s good. I miss feelin’ him kick. Can I come lay with you tonight?

I watched the typin’ bubble appear, then disappear. A few seconds later, her message popped up. You need to be layin’ with Kashmere. That’s who you marrying tomorrow.

I stared at it, blinkin’ slow. The liquor had me deep in my feelin’s, so I typed without thinkin’. You act like you don’t even give a fuck. You don’t want me anyway.

Her reply came fast. Pressure, stop textin’ me. I’m not doing this with you tonight.

You doing it right now, I sent back. You always talk about what you not gon’ do, but you still here. You still answerin’.

Because you text me first, she said. You start shit then play victim. You got a whole fiancée, go talk to her.

I don’t wanna talk to her, I shot back. I’m talkin’ to you.

For what? she wrote. So you can say all this now and act brand new tomorrow? I’m not falling for it, Pressure. I’m tired.

I felt my jaw clench as I typed, You tired? You the one who walked away like I ain’t give you every part of me. Don’t flip that on me now.

Every part of you? she replied. Nigga, please. If I had every part of you, you wouldn’t be marrying another woman. You got the nerve to text me like I’m supposed to just play dumb about it. You made your choice.

That stung, and I didn’t even want to admit it.

I downed another drink and stared at the message for a long time before replyin’.

You always think you know what’s goin’ on but you don’t.

You don’t know what it feel like to be pulled in every direction, tryna keep everybody from fallin’ apart while you losin’ yourself in the process.

She took a while to respond this time, then finally sent, Don’t guilt trip me, Pressure. You the one who keep showin’ up like you don’t know what you want. You talk about pain but you cause it too.

That set me off. Man, miss me with that dumb shit, I typed. You act like I wanted all this. Like I asked for it. You don’t know what I go through behind the scenes. You don’t know half of it.

You right, she sent back. I don’t, and I don’t care to anymore. Go play husband, Pressure.

I stared at her message, feelin’ my heart beat faster. The music and the lights around me felt like they was spinnin’. I could hear my cousins laughin’, women laughin’ and money fallin’, but none of that shit mattered.

I typed, You got me fucked up if you think I’m just gon’ leave it like that.

Then what? she said. You gon’ pull up? You must be drunk, Pressure. Go sleep it off.

That made me laugh, but it wasn’t a real laugh. It came from that place between anger and pain. I looked at her text for a second, finished my drink, and slid my phone in my pocket. I was done talkin’ through a screen.

Without sayin’ a word, I stood up. Renza was laughin’ with a dancer in his lap, Kay’Lo was talkin’ to Blaqson about somethin’, and the DJ was shoutin’ my name again, tellin’ everybody to throw more money.

Nobody even noticed when I started walkin’ off.

I just moved through the crowd, feelin’ my pulse pound while the liquor and the emotion mixed inside me.

I pushed through the door and stepped out into the night. I ain’t give a fuck about the party no more, didn’t even give a fuck about tomorrow. I ain’t give a fuck about nothin’ but seein’ Pluto.

I walked to my car, pullin’ my keys from my pocket, and slid into the driver’s seat. I started the engine, and stared out at the road. My mind was a fuckin’ mess, but I knew one thing for sure. I was done textin’.

Pluto was gon’ see me tonight.