Chapter 11 PLUTO MONROE
Prestyn’s Parents
Finally, getting out of the house and spending time with Pressure was the relief I didn’t know I needed.
For the first time in weeks, it felt like we could breathe again.
Night had already settled in, and the city lights made everything outside look alive.
Pressure was driving, even though I told him a dozen times he didn’t need to, but he wouldn’t hear it.
That man was too stubborn to let anybody take his keys, even after getting shot five times.
He had one hand on the wheel and the other resting on my thigh.
Smoke curled from the blunt hanging between his fingers, the smell sweet and sharp inside the car.
I didn’t say anything, but I kept watching how careful he was being.
Normally he drove like the road belonged to him, fast and fearless, but tonight he was taking his time.
Every stop, every turn, it was slower than usual.
I knew it was because he still wasn’t one hundred percent, even if he wouldn’t admit it.
Life had been bittersweet since that night Kashmere shot him.
Bitter because I had to watch him fight through the kind of pain that would break most people, but sweet because we were still here.
I’d watched him learn how to move like himself again, how to breathe through it and how to sleep without flinching every time he turned.
I’d seen him frustrated, angry, quiet, and there were nights when he didn’t say a word.
He would just lay against me and I would let him.
I didn’t ask questions or push him to speak.
I knew it was just him needing me close enough to feel alive.
Through all of it, his mother had been there too, calm and graceful in her own way, making sure he had the best doctors and never went without anything.
I’d grown closer to her than I ever expected to.
I’d even started spending more time with the rest of Pressure’s family.
Whenever I had a quiet moment, I would FaceTime my uncle Lionel and aunt Dee so they could see Zurie and Prestyn.
Every time they saw them, they’d light up, and it made me feel grounded, like even though my life had changed so much, I was still connected to where I came from.
I glanced at Pressure as he blew out another cloud of smoke, the reflection of the streetlights sliding across his face. He looked calm, but I knew his mind never stopped moving.
“Pressure, you okay?” I asked softly.
He looked over at me with that smirk. “I’m good, mama. Just thinkin’.”
I smiled. “What you thinking about?”
He glanced at me, and bit his bottom lip. “You.”
I couldn’t help but laugh a little, shaking my head while smiling to myself.
The way he said it made me feel good. When I looked back at him, he was already watching me with that same look that always made my skin warm.
He winked, and all I could do was blush and turn toward the window, trying not to let him see how hard I was smiling.
I picked my phone up, opening the gallery just to look at pictures of Prestyn. His tiny hands, his fat cheeks and his little grin that was all his daddy. I scrolled through them and felt my chest warm.
“Look at this one,” I said, turning the phone toward him.
Pressure glanced down at the picture and smiled. “He chillin’ like he know he got it made.”
I laughed softly. “That’s because he’s spoiled already.”
Pressure looked over at me, still smiling. “He is, lowkey. Got both of us wrapped around his finger.”
I laughed again, shaking my head. “You worse than me.”
He smirked, his eyes still on the photo. “Can’t even lie, I am.”
We had barely been out the house for an hour, and we were already sitting here looking at pictures of our baby.
“Pathetic,” I said with a laugh.
Pressure nodded, still grinning. “Yeah, we bad.”
We pulled up to a lounge not far from the water.
It was one of those places that looked laid back from the outside but felt exclusive once you got in.
The music was good, the lights warm, and people were scattered around the parking lot in groups, talking, laughing, and drinking.
As soon as we stepped out the car, the bouncer by the door looked up and froze for a second before a smile spread across his face.
“Pressure? Nigga, I’m glad to see you walkin’ around, bro. The city was talkin’. We was ready to ride about you.”
Pressure reached out his hand and dapped him up with that calm, cool smile. “Appreciate that, fam. I’m good now. Blessed to still be here.”
“Glad to hear it,” the bouncer said, nodding.
Pressure slid his arm around my waist as we walked inside. His hand was firm on my hip, and that simple touch made me feel safe. The DJ must’ve seen him the second we stepped in because his voice came through the speakers right away.
“Aye, hold up! Pressure Mensah in the buildin’! Trill-Land’s finest back outside, y’all!”
Everybody cheered. Some people turned their heads to look, some clapped, and others raised their drinks. It was wild seeing how much love people had for him. Pressure just smiled and lifted his chin once like he always did, like he was unbothered but appreciative.
“Free drinks for Pressure and his lady all night,” the DJ shouted, and that just made the crowd louder.
Pressure leaned close to my ear. “See what happen when I come outside?”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide my smile. “Whatever.”
He laughed and led me toward the VIP section. It was dim, with plush seats and a glass table that radiated under the light. The air was full of smoke, perfume, and music that made the floor pulse.
Pressure looked good. He had on a black designer tee that hugged his chest and arms just right.
His chains was sitting heavy and shining under the lights.
His watch glistened every time he moved, and his rings caught the glow from the tables.
His waves looked perfect, spinning so deep I could see them from across the room.
He smelled good too, and his cologne wrapped around me every time he leaned close.
He sat back on the couch, pulled out some weed, and started breaking it down on a tray. Watching him do it was something about power and ease mixed together. He moved slow, calm and in his own world. When he finished, he rolled it up, licked it closed, and grabbed his lighter.
When he lit it, the flame danced for a second before the smoke rose. He leaned back with one arm stretched across the seat, and the other resting back on my thigh like he couldn’t help it. Then he leaned in and kissed the side of my neck, his lips soft and warm against mine.
“Pressure,” I said.
“What?” he mumbled against my neck before kissing me again.
“You know we can’t have sex until next week after I come from the doctor.”
He kissed my chin next, then my lips, slow and deep like we had all the time in the world. The room faded around us. It was just him, me, and the rhythm of our own thing. He looked in my eyes without responding to what I said. “I love you.”
My chest fluttered. “I love you too.”
The bartender came by with two glasses, setting them down with a grin. “Y’all drinks on the house.”
Pressure nodded, “Appreciate it.”
We clinked our glasses together, and I took a sip, letting the cold sweetness hit my tongue. Around us, people were laughing, dancing, talking, and living, but me and Pressure were in our own bubble.
Then I looked at him and started laughing again.
“Man, he out,” he said, grinning.
I laughed too. “He sleep like he ain’t got no worries.”
Pressure nodded, still smiling. “That’s ‘cause he don’t. We got him.”
We both started laughing again, just sitting there looking through the pictures like two people who couldn’t get enough of their own baby.
Every time I showed him another one, he would find something small to point out, like how his nose scrunched up or how his hand always found his cheek when he slept.
It wasn’t even what we were saying that mattered—it was how we couldn’t stop smiling about him.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and opened his own gallery. “Nah, look at this one though,” he said, holding up a picture of him holding Prestyn’s bottle while he was staring up at him.
I covered my mouth and smiled. “We really out here looking at baby pictures while at the club.”
Pressure grinned. “Ain’t no shame in my game. That’s my boy.”
We sat there, laughing and scrolling through our phones, showing each other pictures and short videos.
Every now and then, he would reach over and kiss me again, his hand finding its way back to my thigh.
For a while, it didn’t even feel like we were in a lounge.
It just felt like a date night that finally let us breathe.
When the night started to slow down, Pressure leaned close and asked, “You ready, mama?”
I nodded, smiling. “Yeah, let’s go home.”
We walked out hand in hand, his grip firm but gentle, like he never wanted to let me go. He shook hands with a few people on the way out, giving quick hugs and dap-ups before we stepped back into the night air.
By the time we got home, Toni was already standing by the door, rocking Prestyn just like I asked her to.
I had called her on the way home and told her to be ready to hand him over because I couldn’t wait to hold my baby again.
She had that sleepy look but still smiled when she saw us.
“He been good,” she said. “He ate about thirty minutes ago, and his pamper’s changed. Zurie knocked out in her room.”
I reached for him, but Pressure got to him first, scooping him right out of Toni’s arms like he couldn’t wait another second. “Come here, my lil’ man,” he whispered in Prestyn’s ear.