25. Malik
PRESSURE POINTS GRAND OPENING
T he ribbon stretched across the front entrance of Pressure Points, red and gold to match the holiday season.
I stood back, adjusting my tie for the third time, watching as the last of the catering staff arranged the refreshment tables in the main lobby.
Four months ago, this had been just an empty building.
Now it was everything I’d dreamed of, state-of-the-art equipment, eight treatment rooms, a children’s area painted in bright, welcoming colors, and my name on the door.
“Dr. Malik Holloway, Owner and Director” gleamed in gold lettering on the glass entrance.
“You keep messin’ with that tie, you gon’ choke your damn self,” Sametra said, sliding up beside me with that little smirk I’d been in love with since day one. “Stop fidgeting.”
She looked fine as hell. Five months pregnant and finally showing, with that perfect lil’ curve I couldn’t keep my hands off if I tried.
The red dress she wore hugged every new angle just right.
Glowing, confident, fine in that effortless way that made it hard to breathe around her.
If she wasn’t already carrying my baby I’d be plotting how to make that happen tonight.
Her titties were sittin’ pretty too, perched up like the main event.
“I’m good,” I said, but let her fix the tie anyway, mainly just to feel her hands on me. “I’m focused on you. You look good as hell, mama. How you feelin’?”
She gave me that “stop” look. “I feel like if you keep fidgeting like this, I’ma have to take you in a back room and help you calm all that down.”
“Oh word?”
“Word. But behave. Relax. Stop stressing. You look good. I hope you feel good.”
“I’m tryin’. I just want everything to be perfect.”
She stepped back, took my hand, and looked around the room. “It is perfect, baby. Look at it.”
The building was filled with fresh flowers, branded signs, balloons, and my people in their best outfits. Good energy surrounded us. My dream was finally becoming real. I’d built this with my own hands. And now we were opening the doors to the public like it was a damn red carpet event.
“Everything you worked for, sacrificed for, it’s here. It’s happening,” she said.
I looked through the front windows and caught Samaj out in the lot, directing traffic like he was running the whole operation. He was finally eighteen and really stepping into himself. I was so proud of him.
His streaming channel had taken off, and he’d been hyping this grand opening on every platform like it was the party of the year. I ain’t even have to ask. That’s how locked in he was.
I didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there holding her hand, taking in all of it. The moment. The legacy. My woman. My son. My future.
“Thank you,” I finally said, my voice a little lower. “For riding with me. For forgiving me. For believing in all this. In me.”
She smiled, touched her belly, then looked up at me, “You’re welcome,” she said. “The past is the past. It’s behind us baby.”
“There’s my baby boy!” Mama’s voice carried across the lobby, and I turned to see her walking through the entrance with more energy than someone who’d just gotten off her first airplane should have.
“Mama!” I crossed the space in three long strides, pulling her into a hug. “You made it.”
“Did you think I was gonna miss this?” She pulled back to look at me, her eyes bright with pride. “Lord, look at this place. My son, the business owner.”
Sametra joined us, and Mama immediately went to her belly, placing both hands on the bump. “And how’s my grandbaby doing?”
“Growing, loved,” Sametra replied with a laugh.
“She’s gonna be just as beautiful as her mama,” I said, wrapping my arm around Sametra’s waist.
My mom rested her hand gently over the curve of Sametra’s stomach, her eyes already glistening.
“Ma,” I said, my voice lower, almost awed. “Meet Summer Holloway.”
She looked up at me, eyes wide. “That’s her name?”
I nodded. “Yeah. We’re having a girl. Been feeling it from the jump, though. As soon as we saw her on that screen, we knew.”
And just like that, it hit me all over again. I was about to be somebody’s daddy. A little girl’s daddy. I’d been walking around with that joy and panic sitting side by side in my throat ever since. Because I already knew I was going to be wrapped around her finger and probably way too protective.
The front door chimed again, and in walked John-Dale and Lorana, followed by what felt like half of St. Ambrose.
Word had clearly gotten out. The place filled up quickly with familiar faces, folks from the hospital, neighbors from Sametra’s old block, even a few of Samaj’s boys.
All my family was in one place, to celebrate the future. I felt full.
“Malik!” Lorana called, strutting in with a covered dish even though I told her it wasn’t needed. “I brought my famous mac and cheese for your staff. Can’t have a proper celebration without soul food.”
“You really didn’t have to…” I started, hugging her tight.
“Boy, hush,” she said. “Family takes care of family.”
John-Dale shook my hand with that look men give when they’re proud but won’t get too mushy in public. “You did good, son. Damn good.”
I was still soaking it in when the energy shifted again.
“Dr. Holloway! My boy.”
I turned and spotted Davinci Bryns walk in like he owned the damn place, instead of me.
His larger-than-life ass just had to make a scene.
His tall ass almost out dressed me. That was him though.
I was proud of him and his accomplishment.
I appreciated that he still moved like that same youngin’ I’d rehabbed years ago.
NBA and MLB All-Star now, cameras always around him, sneaker deals, highlight reels, but the core was still solid.
His little entourage hung back by the door, looking like they were waiting for instructions, but he peeled off like none of that mattered. Head on a swivel, taking it all in.
“Dee!” I called out, already smiling. “Man, I appreciate you comin’ through. Thought your schedule might be too tight.”
He pulled me in for a dap and shoulder hug, like family.
“Doc… c’mon. The man who got me back on the court? I wouldn’t miss this for nothin’.” He looked around, nodding like he was genuinely proud. “This shit is next level, bruh. I love to see this.”
“I had to make sure this lived up to my name. Go big or go home.”
“Thats why I fuck with you. You told me to thug that shit out and look at me now. Fine as hell. Rich as hell. Fade away clean as a muthafucka, whew…”
“Nigga please,” I laughed, waving him off.
Davinci grinned, gold teeth peeking just a little. “I’m sayin’, though. You unc now, but you good people. Solid. That shit’s rare out here.”
I laughed and dapped him up. “Real recognize real. You remember my lady, don’t you?”
Sametra walked over into my arms, poised and glowing, flanked by Halo and Winnie. They moved like they’d done this a hundred times, my woman’s crew always presented as a united front.
“Davinci, nice to see you again,” she said graciously. “These are my girls, Halo and Winnie.”
“Ladies,” he said, voice smooth as silk, that post-game interview charm on full display. But when his eyes landed on Halo, something shifted. The casual pleasantries dropped, and I recognized that look and reaction. It was the same one I had when I first saw Sametra.
“Oh yeah... I remember your fine ass.”
Halo’s expression went cold instantly, which was odd; she was the one who asked me to hand deliver him.
“I forgot about you the minute I left your house.”
“Bullshit Halima,” Davinci said with that cocky grin, stepping closer. “I’m the only nigga in this room you see right now, ain’t I?”
Me and Sametra watched this verbal sparring match unfold.
I had to shake my head, dude was smooth as hell, but he had no idea what he was dealing with.
Halo was everything except the thing that wore a halo.
She was the wild friend, younger than us, around Davinci’s age, and even more of a firecracker than my girl.
“Wait who? Who is Halima?” I asked confused.
“Y’all met?” Sametra asked, clearly surprised at him knowing her real name. Halo had been keeping secrets, which was rare since my woman usually told me everything about her girls, and she hadn’t mentioned this.
“You want to tell them about our meet-cute, or should I?” he asked, grin never leaving his face.
“He’s messy. Got a crazy ex who pulled a Left-Eye and damn near burned his house down while he was busy flirting with me. Nothing to tell. Typical nigga behavior. And don’t call me that you don’t know me.”
From the ice in her eyes, I could tell whatever went down at his house hadn’t ended well.
He laughed, surprised at Halo. “I’ll give you that one, Halo. But I didn’t expect firefighters to be so fine and so mean. You was doing all that yelling. Acting jealous and shit.”
“You fucking wish.”
“See, mean as a muthafucka.”
“I’m not mean,” Halo said, flipping her hair like she couldn’t care less. “I’m just not pressed. You got too much shit with you. You play with me, your house is the last thing you’ll need to worry about.”
“So you were interested before the drama? That’s what I hear.”
“No.”
Winnie snorted. “She’s lying,” she blurted out, eyes lighting up. “Halo’s your biggest fan!”
Halo turned slowly, her eyes promising violence. “Winnie, what the hell girl? What happened to bros before hoes?”
“What? Don’t miss your chance with this fine-ass man. She wears your jersey for every home game. She doesn’t miss a game. NBA or MLB wise.”
Davinchi’s attention was laser-focused on Halo. “What number jersey?”
“Fifteen,” Halo mumbled, looking like she wanted to disappear.
“My championship number,” he said, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. “That tells me everything I need to know.” His voice dropped lower. “You got a week.”
“A week for what exactly?”
“To clean up whatever situation you got going on. When I get off the road, I’m coming for you. Don’t try me, Angel.”
We watched Halo’s cheeks flush despite her attitude. Something in his tone made it clear this wasn’t a joke he was dead serious. I hoped this didn’t get messy. Neither of them was wrapped too tight.
“Attention, everyone!” Samaj’s voice cut through the tension. “If you could gather in the main lobby, we’re about to start the ribbon-cutting!”
As people moved toward the front of the building, I felt Sametra’s hand slip into mine.
The crowd gathered as I picked up the oversized scissors, Sametra on one side of me, Mama on the other. Camera phones came out, and I could see Samaj positioning himself to get the perfect shot for social media.
“Before I cut this ribbon,” I said, my voice carrying across the lobby, “I want to thank everyone who made this possible. My mama, who taught me too never give up and let anyone count me out.”
I looked down at Sametra. “And you, my beautiful fiancée, who supported this dream even when it meant starting over from scratch. What someone meant for bad, we turned around and made it for good. You’ve been so patient with me. Strong all while carrying my child. I can’t thank you enough.”
I positioned the scissors on the ribbon, taking one last look at everything I’d built. Six months ago, I’d walked away from security and stepped out on faith. Today, I was opening my own practice, surrounded by family, with a baby on the way and a wedding to plan.
“Here’s to new beginnings,” I said, and cut the ribbon.
The applause shook the ground, and people immediately started flowing into the building to explore.
I watched them check out the treatment rooms, the children’s area, the group therapy space, and felt a satisfaction deeper than anything I’d experienced at the hospital.
No weapon formed against this family could prosper.