17. Pressure Mensah #2
Blaqson finally broke the silence. “Look, we overcomplicating this. Just keep an eye on her. Watch how she move. Little shit gon’ start adding up. We ain’t gotta force it, ‘cause if there’s somethin’ to find, it’s gon’ reveal itself.”
Kay’Lo smirked. “Yeah, ‘cause you know niggas can’t help but slip up. You can only pretend for so long before the real you pop out. That’s when we catch it.”
Renza added, “And if she is what Chanel say she is, then yeah… you gon’ have to handle that.”
I leaned back in my chair. “If Lola is really a ‘Larry’, that’s her ass.”
They laughed, but they knew I meant every word.
We sat there tossin’ ideas around a little longer. Blaqson suggested bribing one of the staff to check her room when she wasn’t around. Renza talked about settin’ up some kind of game night where the women had to do physical challenges, thinkin’ maybe one of her balls would slip out.
The more they talked, the more I realized I didn’t have to rush it. I was gon’ play it cool, let her think the situation had blown over, and watch her closely until the truth came out, and when it did, I was gon’ deal with it my way.
Because in my house, nobody plays me.
The time was windin’ down, and I was back in my room thinkin’ about all the shit that was happenin’ around me.
It felt like the last few days had been movin’ faster than I could keep up with, and I’d been doin’ shit I don’t normally do.
From eatin’ Pluto’s pussy earlier like I couldn’t get enough of her, to damn near makin’ love to Kashmere when I knew good and well I had no business goin’ there.
It hit me that if I kept movin’ like this, somebody was gon’ end up hurt, and it might not even be one of them—it could be my ass.
But damn… bein’ in a house full of fine-ass women was like puttin’ a kid in the candy store and tellin’ him not to touch nothin’.
It felt damn near impossible to resist. Everywhere I turned there was another smile, another dress clingin’ to the right curves and another set of eyes tryna catch mine.
I’d been holdin’ my composure for the most part, but I could feel myself slippin’.
I leaned back on the edge of my bed, rollin’ my watch around my wrist while my mind bounced from one woman to the next.
I rubbed my face with both hands, lettin’ out a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holdin’. I told myself I could handle all this, I could pick who I wanted, when I wanted, and not get caught up. But the truth was, emotions was startin’ to creep in, and I didn’t like that shit.
My phone started ringin’ from the nightstand. I glanced over and saw Ka’mari’s name flashin’ across the screen.
A part of me didn’t even want to answer.
I just had to pull up on her nigga and beat the brakes off him, and now here she was callin’ like we didn’t have a history full of bullshit.
Ka’mari had this hold on me I hated. This damn girl could pull me right back in with the smallest thing.
She was that one woman I could never seem to shake, no matter how much I told myself I was done.
I let it ring twice more before I picked up. “Yep…”
Her voice came through soft. “Hey… I was just checking on you.”
That threw me. “Checkin’ on me? Since when you care enough to check on me?”
She laughed under her breath, but it wasn’t playful. “You make it sound like I’m the devil or something.”
I leaned back against the headboard. “Nah, I’m just sayin’. Not too long ago you was tryna convince me I was the worst nigga on the planet. Now you callin’ me all gentle and shit. What’s that about?”
There was a pause on her end. “I don’t want nothing specific, Pressure. I just thought about you.”
I snorted. “You married to another nigga, Ka’mari. Why you thinkin’ about me?”
She hesitated, and that told me everything. “Me and Donovan never got married,” she finally said. “You crashed the damn bachelor party, remember?”
I shook my head even though she couldn’t see me. “Don’t matter. You still fuckin’ with him.”
“And you been doing you,” she shot back. “I’ve seen the ads floating around the internet. The ones about you looking for a wife. You didn’t think I was gon’ see that?”
I stayed quiet for a second, starin’ at the ceiling. “So that’s why you been callin’?”
“No,” she lied. “But since we on the subject… what was the point of all that?”
I laughed low. “Same reason you went out and got engaged. Don’t act brand new.”
We went back and forth for a minute, neither one of us lettin’ up. It was the same old shit—her pushin’, me pushin’ back, both of us too stubborn to admit we cared enough to argue in the first place.
Then her tone shifted, softer than I’d heard in a long time. “I don’t wanna fight, Pressure. I just wanted to thank you for still being here for me, no matter what.”
I closed my eyes for a second. That’s the shit I couldn’t stand about her. She could say one thing and have me feelin’ like maybe she still had a piece of my heart…even after everything.
“Yeah,” I said finally. “I hear you.” I didn’t give her time to keep talkin’. “I gotta go.”
Before she could respond, I ended the call and tossed the phone down beside me.
For a moment, I just sat there, tryin’ to make sense of the pull she still had over me. Every time I thought I was done, her ass showed up in some small way and knock me right back off balance. I hated that she still had that power, but I couldn’t lie… part of me didn’t want to let it go.
Between Ka’mari, Pluto and Kashmere, my feelin’s was bein’ stretched in different directions and I ain’t like that shit… at all.
I pushed myself off the bed, grabbed my keys from the dresser, and headed for the door. I needed to clear my head, and the only way I knew how was to take a ride.
When I made it to the first floor, I was on my way out. I had just told my guards to be on standby while I was gone. I didn’t even know where I was headed yet, probably just out for a ride to clear my head, maybe hit a club or two, but I knew I ain’t wanna be in this damn mansion tonight.
I was halfway to the door when I heard noise comin’ from the kitchen. I could hear cabinet doors openin’ and closin’, drawers slidin’ and somethin’ hittin’ the counter. It didn’t sound like the staff. Curiosity got the best of me, so I turned and headed that way.
When I walked in, I saw Zaniyah Starr. She was still in her dress from dinner, the soft fabric huggin’ her in the right places, her hair fallin’ over her shoulder.
She was a little tipsy, but it wasn’t sloppy.
She just had that loose, good-spirited vibe like she did when we was at the table.
I couldn’t forget how she’d been laughin’ all night.
In her hands she had a bag of chips, some cookies, a juice pouch, and a couple other snacks she’d clearly raided from the pantry.
She froze when she saw me, her big, bright eyes lockin’ on me like she hadn’t expected to get caught. Those eyes of hers always looked different from the rest, like they was enchanted, or belonged in some paintin’ or fairy tale.
I glanced at all the stuff in her hands and smirked. “Woman, you bet not have not nan peanut in your hand after what happened the other day.”
Her lips curved into a smile, and deep dimples appeared in her cheeks. “You got jokes,” she said, rollin’ her eyes in this playful way that didn’t feel like she was offended at all.
“Yeah, I got jokes,” I told her, steppin’ farther into the kitchen. “But don’t forget, I checked on you multiple times after that little episode.”
She set the snacks on the counter and looked back at me, still smilin’. “And I appreciate that. For real. Thank you.”
There was somethin’ about her tone that was genuine, soft and didn’t have no ego in it at all.
Most of the women in the house had some edge to them, always playin’ for my attention and puttin’ on a performance.
Zaniyah didn’t seem like she was tryin’ to prove anything right now. She was just… herself.
We ended up leanin’ against opposite counters, talkin’.
At first it was light. We talked about the food from dinner, how she still didn’t trust the kitchen after the pistachio thing, jokes about how she had been “brought back to life” with her EpiPen.
But then the conversation slid into real shit.
Turns out she liked old school music the way I did, had a thing for certain cars, and even knew about a few underground spots in the city I used to hit before all the extra attention came with my name.
She laughed easily, asked good questions, and when she listened, it felt like she actually cared about the answer.
For some reason, bein’ in the kitchen with her felt different than it did with the other women.
She was beautiful—no question, but it wasn’t just her looks.
It was her energy. Sweet but still bubbly enough to keep the vibe alive, gentle but not borin’.
Around her, I didn’t feel like I had to be ‘Prince Pressure’, heir to the throne” or whatever title people liked to stick on me.
I could just be me, and she still seemed to like what she saw.
Her eyes dropped to my keys in my hand. “Where are you headed?” she asked, then immediately shook her head. “Sorry, that’s none of my business. I shouldn’t be all in your plans.”
I smirked. “You good. I was probably gon’ take a ride, maybe hit a club or two.” I let my eyes slide down her, slow enough for her to notice. “Matter fact… since you still dressed and all in my business, you might as well grab ya heels and ride with me.”
Zaniyah’s smile deepened, her dimples showin’ again. “Give me two minutes,” she said, and started puttin’ all the snacks back in the cabinets and fridge. She moved quick but not rushed, like she was lowkey excited about goin’ but didn’t want to look like it.
I leaned against the counter watchin’ her, thinkin’ about how I hadn’t really given her much of my time since she’d been here, and maybe that was a mistake. She had a way of slippin’ under the radar without disappearin’ completely, and now I was wondering how many moments I’d missed with her.
Minutes later, I heard her heels clickin’ down the hallway as she came back, her hair smoothed, lipstick fresh and ready to go.
When she passed me, I caught that faint scent of her perfume. It was light and sweet but still grown.
We walked out together, and for the first time that day, I wasn’t thinkin’ about all the chaos in the house or the mess a nigga been dealin’ with. I was just thinkin’ this might be the start of me actually gettin’ to know Zaniyah Starr.