24. Pressure Mensah
Trill-Land, Jungle Estate
“ S ay girl! You better calm yo’ ass down!” I shouted as I approached Kashmere, ready to go upside her damn head for all the disrespect.
The foyer looked like a fuckin’ stage the way all the women was lined up watchin’ and whisperin’.
I cut a glare across the room and pointed to the staircase without raisin’ my voice again.
“Take y’all asses upstairs. Now. Show over.
” They scattered because they knew I wasn’t playin’, and the guard posted by the door kept his eyes on Kashmere while she snatched at the suitcase like she was ready to drag it through the gates herself.
“Calm down?” she shot back, steppin’ right into my space. “Fuck you, nigga.”
I felt the sting of her words even while I held my face steady.
There was hurt all over her eyes, and I knew she wasn’t just puttin’ on a show for the house.
I been to my mama’s crib with Pluto on my arm, and whether I meant to or not, I knew I cut her where it was tender.
That didn’t mean I was about to let her tear my place apart.
“Get her phone,” I told the guard. “She wanna go, and act stupid as fuck, give her the fuckin’ phone so she can get the fuck out my shit.”
The guard nodded and gestured for her to come with him, and she yanked her bag up like it didn’t weigh shit.
I stayed by the door, my hands in my pockets, and my heart poundin’ in a way I ain’t like ‘cause I hated feelin’ pulled in more than one direction at once.
I kept my gaze on the entryway until I heard Kashmere stompin’ back, hard against the tile, and fast like she had somewhere to be in the next thirty seconds or she’d explode.
She walked up typing’ wild, her thumbs flyin’ and tears racin’ down her face even as she tried to act like she didn’t give a fuck. She reached for the handle, and I caught her wrist before she could snatch the door open.
“You not goin’ no fuckin’ where, girl,” I said, meanin’ every fuckin’ word.
“Get yo’ muthafuckin’ hands off me,” she said, yankin’ back like she could pull her whole damn arm off and still keep movin’.
The guard stepped forward on instinct. “Boss, you want me to handle?—”
Kashmere swung her head toward him so fast he stalled out mid-sentence. “Bitch, I wish you would touch me,” she snapped, her eyes blazin’ as she squared up with her hand still in my grip.
“I got it,” I told the guard without lookin’ away from her. “Ain’t shit to handle but her smart ass mouth.”
He backed off and she ripped against my hold again, so I switched my grip, slid behind her, and lifted her like she weighed less than my damn patience.
She went off, flailin’, diggin’ her nails into my forearm, into my shoulder, even peelin’ off some of my damn skin.
I felt the burn, but I ain’t care because I’d already decided how this was about to go as soon as I got her ass to my room.
I carried her down the hall while she cursed me from every direction, and I hit the elevator button with my elbow and never loosened up.
She kept twistin’, kickin’, callin’ me everything but my name, and cursed her ass right back out.
I held on because letti’ go meant watchin’ her run out into the night angry and reckless, and I wasn’t about to let that be the last image I had of her.
The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped in, still holdin’ her tight while she fought. “Put me down, Pressure. I swear to God, put me down,” she said through clenched teeth, tears runnin’, and her chest rising fast.
Man… shut the fuck up already,” I said, meetin’ her eyes ‘cause I wanted her to feel the weight of my patience thinnin’.
She twisted again, her nails breakin’ skin on my neck this time, and I grunted and pressed my chin to her shoulder to keep her from head-butting me ‘cause her crazy ass looked like she was ready to do it.
“If you head-butt me girl… I swear fo’ God I’mma drop yo’ ass from the next floor.”
“Do it, nigga! I will gladly take that fall with your ass!”
The doors opened on my floor, and I took her straight down the hall and into my room.
I kicked the door shut with the back of my foot and locked it, the click soundin’ final in a way that settled something ugly in my chest. I put her down and she tried to bolt to the side, so I pushed her back toward the wall hard, and planted my hand around her damn neck, squeezin’ the shit outta her little ass.
“What the fuck is yo’ problem?” I barked, my eyes locked on hers, heat climbin’ my neck so hard I could feel the veins pushing through my skin.
Her eyes went wild like I asked her somethin’ crazy.
She shoved at my chest and slipped out of my hold, and before I could pull her back, she held her phone up, the screen bright while her thumbs moved like machine parts.
The tears didn’t stop, and her breath came ragged while she tried to type through the shakin’.
Frustrated as fuck, I stepped forward and snatched the phone, smooth and quick, and she lunged like she could snatch it back out of my hand.
I didn’t give her the chance. I launched it at the wall, watched it hit and drop, the screen spidering into a dead black mess against floor. “Now try to go use that bitch.”
“Muthafucka, you broke my phone!” she screamed, her voice shreddin’ as she stared at the pieces like they was more than glass and cords.
“I don’t give a fuck about no muthafuckin’ phone,” I said with a cold ass tone.
She came at me slappin’, open-palmed smacks catchin’ the side of my head and cheek while she cried.
I caught her wrists, squuezin’ the fuck out them hoes, and she bucked against me, and we hit the bed sideways, tangled up in a knot of arms and legs, both cussin’ each other the fuck out.
I pinned her forearms above her head and pressed my weight down just enough to stop the thrashin’, and she wore herself out under me like a wild thing caught in a trap.
The fight was over and slowly turnin’ into sobs that shook the mattress.
“What the fuck is yo’ problem?” I asked again, breathin’ hard ‘cause holdin’ my temper in place took more energy than the physical did.
“You,” she said, her voice breakin’ as she tried to pull away even though there was nowhere to go. “You my problem. You playing with me. You stringing me along. You only keeping me here so you can keep fucking me.”
I stared down at her, nose to nose, her skin hot and wet where the tears had painted lines down to her ears. “That’s how you feel? Say it again if that’s what you really believe,” I said, because I wanted her to hear how stupid that shit sounded hangin’ in the air between us.
“Yes,” she spat, turnin’ her face away then back to me like the words hurt comin’ out. “You looked me dead in my eyes while asking another chick to meet your mama. You know how that made me feel and you did it anyway.”
“So, this what all this is about?” I asked, irritation pushin’ hard at the edges of my tone.
“You cryin’ and actin’ retarded as fuck ‘cause I ain’t take you somewhere?
That’s what this is? Bet. Where you wanna go?
Name it. I’ll gas up the jet for yo’ muthafuckin’ crazy, stupid ass right now.
Pick a city. Pick a country. Say the word. ”
She went quiet, her eyes ragin’ and broken at the same time, and I realized there wasn’t a flight or a stamp I could put on her passport that would fix what she was screamin’ about.
I loosened my grip a little and she didn’t run.
She just stared at me like she wanted to hate me and couldn’t find the space for it.
My heart pushed against my ribs hard enough to make me light-headed, and for a second, I had to close my eyes ‘cause I ain’t like how close I felt to spinnin’ out.
I never wrestled with a woman like this.
I never let no female put hands on me and stay in the room.
I never let nobody see me dragged to the edge by my own emotions like this, and yet here I was, hoverin’ over Kashmere with the taste of anger and somethin’ softer mixin’ in my mouth until I couldn’t tell which flavor was which.
“Look at me,” I said, and she did, ‘cause she always did when I asked like that.
“You think I don’t feel this shit?” I asked, keepin’ my voice low so it didn’t carry outside the door.
“You think I ain’t been fightin’ myself since the day you came in this bitch?
You think I don’t know what it is when you touch me, when you lay next to me and go quiet, when you start talkin’ about nothin’ and I realize I ain’t been listenin’ to anybody but you for an hour?
You not the only one who got skin in this. ”
“Then why her,” she whispered, the question comin’ out small even though everything else had been big. “Why her with your mama?”
“Because I could,” I said, honestly ‘cause lyin’ to make it cute would only make the shit worse.
“Because I’m buildin’ somethin’ here and I need to see shit from every angle.
Because you make me feel shit and I ain’t tryna let how I feel about you steer the whole ship.
Because if I’m wrong about you, it’ll gut me.
The shit will hurt. Is that real enough for you? ”
She flinched like the words landed heavy, and I felt the fight in her legs soften beneath my hips.
Her chest was still heavin’ but the edge of the rage had dulled, leavin’ the hurt exposed like fresh skin.
I felt my own temper drop with it. I felt the ache behind my eyes I never let nobody see, and before I could talk myself out of it, I dipped my head and kissed the tears runnin’ across her cheek.
They hit my lips, and I chased the lines of it to the corner of her mouth like I could erase the tracks and start us over.