8. Pressure Mensah
Trill-Land, Jungle Estate
“ S o check it…” I said, takin’ a sip of my coffee and lookin’ around at the women like I was seein’ them for the first time. “Ain’t no chef comin’ in this mornin’. If y’all wanna impress me, show me what you workin’ with in the kitchen.”
A few of the girls blinked like they ain’t hear me right.
“I’m serious,” I said, settin’ my mug down on the marble tray next to me. “If you think you fit to be my woman, you should at least know how to fry an egg or flip a pancake. Breakfast on y’all this mornin’. Let’s see who can cook, and who just came here to look good and eat free.”
Toni Roc clapped her hands together like she’d been waitin’ on this exact moment. “Oop! Say less! I been tryna get in that kitchen since I stepped foot in this muthafucka.”
Taffy Royale was right behind her, already kickin’ off her slippers. “Baby, I was born ready. Let me tie this scarf tighter so I don’t drop hair in the food.”
While some of the girls made their way toward the kitchen, others started movin’ dishes and fixin’ the table like they ain’t wanna risk messin’ up the meal but still wanted to be seen helpin’.
Pluto ain’t say much, but I noticed her slide out toward the back patio.
A few minutes later, she came back in holdin’ a handful of wildflowers—pale orange, white, and somethin’ close to lavender.
She spotted this empty vase sittin’ behind the glass cabinet near the dinin’ room, cleaned it out, filled it with water, and started arrangin’ the flowers without sayin’ a word.
She wasn’t tryna show off… but she stood out anyway.
The kitchen turned into organized chaos. Pots clangin’, bacon poppin’ and toast flyin’ out the silver double toaster. I saw Toni flippin’ pancakes with no spatula, just flippin’ the whole pan with a flick of her wrist. Taffy had three skillets goin’ at once like she was runnin’ a food truck.
By the time breakfast was ready, the table was set and the whole estate smelled like home—sweet, savory, and loud with pride.
The spread was insane: buttermilk pancakes stacked with butter slidin’ down the sides, thick-cut bacon crispy like it came out a smoker, cheddar cheese eggs, seasoned to perfection, hash browns browned just right on the edges, smoked sausage, turkey sausage, cinnamon toast, creamy grits with cheese melted on top, and a tray of fried catfish for the ones that liked it Southern.
There was orange juice, pineapple juice, and chilled champagne on ice like it was a brunch party at somebody’s rich auntie’s house in the hills.
I ain’t gon’ lie… I was actually startin’ to like this shit.
Once everybody was seated, Toni Roc came out from the kitchen carryin’ plates like she was runnin’ the floor at a soul food spot. She slid mine down in front of me and winked. “Here you go, baby. Hope you ain’t too bougie for some home-cooked food.”
I looked down at the plate, then back up at her, smirkin’. “I don’t eat nobody’s cookin’ but my mama’s and my chef’s… but I’mma see what it’s hittin’ for.”
A few of the girls laughed, and Toni waved her hand. “Boy, bye. You ‘bout to clean that plate.”
I picked up my fork, took a bite of the grits first. They was creamy, cheesy, and seasoned just right.
The catfish had the perfect crunch, and the eggs was fluffy like they’d been made with heavy cream.
I took my time with the food, leanin’ back in my chair, lettin’ the flavors settle in my mouth like I was really tryna taste who belonged here and who didn’t.
“A’ight… who cooked what?” I asked, glancin’ around.
Lola Reign, a pretty light skinned chick with full lips nodded toward Toni. “She did most of it. Taffy helped too, but Toni was in her zone.”
I raised an eyebrow. “This you, Toni?”
She grinned, tossin’ her towel over her shoulder. “Every bit of it.”
I nodded slow. “You got a real hand in the kitchen.”
Toni sat back in her chair and shrugged.
“I used to cook for people all the time. I used to work with this service that sent us to different families’ homes.
Most of the people I cooked for had loved ones on hospice.
Sometimes the clients was the ones sick, sometimes it was their mama or their spouse, and they just didn’t have the strength to be dealin’ with meals on top of everything else.
I used to pull up early, cook a big breakfast, sometimes lunch too.
People go through a lot when somebody they love is dyin’.
You’d be surprised how much comfort a hot plate can bring when everything else feel like it’s fallin’ apart. ”
Toni’s words hit me.
She ain’t say it like she was tryna be deep or emotional. It just… came out real as if she was tellin’ the truth without tryin’ to tug at anybody’s heart. She said it like somebody who’d seen pain, but never let it stop her from showin’ up for people.
I ain’t say nothin’, but looked at her for a second, realizin’ it was more to her than a loud mouth and red hair. Then, I kept eatin’.
When I finished, Toni stood up quick and grabbed my plate before I could. “I got it,” she said. Then she leaned down and kissed my cheek, soft but playful. “I knew you was gon’ fuck this plate up.”
I chuckled under my breath. “You proud of yourself, huh?”
“Hell yeah,” she said, smirkin’. “And you ate every crumb, so I must be doin’ somethin’ right.”
I pushed my chair back and stood up. “A’ight. I’m about to work out. I need a partner this mornin’. Somebody who ain’t gon’ fold halfway through.”
All the women looked around like I’d just asked ‘em to dig a ditch in heels.
Taffy looked up from her plate and waved me off. “Uh uh—nigga, look at me. This belly been ridin’ with me since middle school. One lil’ workout ain’t finna change a damn thing.”
I looked her dead in the face and said, “Yeah, a’ight… but if you gon’ be rollin’ with me, you gon’ have to get that soft-ass body in the gym eventually. I ain’t carryin’ you up no stairs.”
The girls hollered, and Taffy damn near fell out her chair.
Toni’s hand shot up. “I’m in.”
I pointed at her. “Cool, but you gon’ have to take that hot-ass red wig off. Just lookin’ at it got me sweatin’, and I ain’t even started workin’ out yet.”
Chanel Banks let out this loud dramatic-ass laugh from across the room. “Chile, I’m glad I ain’t the only one who noticed!”
Toni turned slow and narrowed her eyes. “Anyway… I’m not about to keep arguin’ with no hoe that got eczema on her hairline.”
The room cracked up.
I didn’t say nothin’, but shook my head again.
Nyah Roux stood up and started collectin’ dishes. “I guess I’ll clean the kitchen,” she said lowly.
Toni glanced at her and nodded. “I’ll be back. Let me go change.
She disappeared upstairs, and I walked off to my room to change clothes.
When I stepped out to the patio with a water bottle to stretch, I noticed the rest of the women had wandered outside too, loungin’ by the pool or postin’ up on the deck furniture, talkin’ and actin’ like they wasn’t watchin’ every move I made.
When I walked back inside, I heard soft footsteps behind me.
I turned and saw Toni Roc. She walked down the stairs in black biker shorts and a fitted white tank, sneakers laced, no wig, or lashes—just her. Her natural hair was pulled into a high ponytail, thick, fluffy, and long enough to hang past her shoulders even with it tied up.
I looked at her for a second too long, and she noticed.
She raised her eyebrows. “Nigga, what? You thought I was bald-headed?”
I smirked, but I was still lowkey studyin’ her. “Shit… I thought it was straight scalp under that wig. You just shocked me, that’s all.”
Her ponytail swung a little when she laughed, thick and full, and the shit was real.
What really caught me though wasn’t just the hair.
It was the fact that under all that loud shit she be on, under the jokes, the ratchetness and the big energy she carried, was a woman that actually had layers.
And I ain’t mean that in a soft-ass, poetic way either.
I meant it like… there was more to her than I thought.
At the table earlier, she was talkin’ about cookin’ for families goin’ through hospice like it was nothin’.
She was on some real-life, I show up when it matter, type shit.
And now, here she was…natural, hair out, no filter, but still bold, still funny…
but somehow realer than she’d ever been.
That shit was doin’ somethin’ to me. I wasn’t gon’ say it out loud, but it was.
I nodded once. “A’ight, let’s go. Let’s see if that natural strength match all that talk.”
She laughed, walked beside me and that ponytail swayed like it knew I was watchin’. I led her down the hall toward the gym, tryna keep it cool… but the truth was, I ain’t expect to be feelin’ any of these women this early.
And yet, Toni Roc? She was startin’ to make it hard not to.
As soon as we hit the gym, I turned up Key Glock and let the beat bang.
The bass vibrated through the floor, and I ain’t even gon’ lie, it did somethin’ to me.
This was my space with high ceilings, custom equipment, black floors with gold accents, full mirror walls, and a walk-in fridge stacked with water and fresh fruit.
I even had a weed stash tucked in one of the spaces.
Toni Roc stepped in like she was ready to go to war. I was glad she had changed outta that hot-ass wig ‘cause she was lookin’ like somethin’ to a nigga now.
“You ready to sweat ‘til you stank?”
She smirked and grabbed a resistance band without even lookin’ at me. “Nigga, I stay ready.”
I let out a low laugh and stretched my arms behind my head.