Renza shrugged. “Nigga, I drink regardless.”
We all cracked up, and for a second it felt like old times, but then, I said some shit I couldn’t hold back no more.
“I’mma be outta town in a few days,” I said, lookin’ down at the dominoes. “Me and Toni goin’ to see a fertility specialist.”
Pressure looked up from his drink, brows raisin’. “Fertility specialist?”
“Yeah,” I said. “We been tryna’ figure out why she ain’t got pregnant yet.”
Renza smirked, leanin’ back in his chair. “Nigga, you sure it’s her and not you?”
I looked at him with a straight face. “Boy, shut yo’ goofy ass up. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with me.”
Pressure laughed. “You dumb as hell, Renza. Don’t nobody wanna hear that shit.”
“Nah, for real,” Renza said, still laughin’. “I’m just sayin’, you been goin’ raw since what, 2018? And she still ain’t popped up pregnant? Somebody in that equation ain’t workin’ right.”
“Yeah, and that somebody ain’t me,” I said, smirkin’.
Pressure leaned back in his chair, still smilin’ but lookin’ like he thinkin’ at the same time. “So, what you gon’ do if they tell you she can’t have no kids?”
The question hung there for a second. I took a drag from my blunt and blew the smoke out slow.
“I don’t know,” I said finally. “Ain’t somethin’ I even wanna think about. I can’t see myself with nobody else, and I damn sure ain’t raisin’ no kid that ain’t mine. That’s dead.”
Pressure nodded slow, his face serious now. “I feel that, but you know life be throwin’ shit at us we don’t plan for. You gotta make peace with whatever come outta that appointment.”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I get there,” I said, grabbin’ my glass. “Right now, I’m just tryna’ make sure my wife good.”
Before anybody could say anything else, the door opened, and Blaqson walked in.
The whole room went quiet for a second. He had on all black, his chain gleamin’ under the lights, and a blunt behind his ear like always. I felt my whole mood shift soon as I saw him. My jaw locked up on reflex.
Pressure looked up like it wasn’t nothin’. “What’s good, boy? Thought you wasn’t pullin’ up.”
Blaqson dap’d him up, then Renza. Then his eyes found me. He ain’t say nothin’, but just nodded once before sittin’ across the table.
I leaned back slow. “You could’ve told me he was comin’.”
Pressure looked dead at me. “Nigga, I don’t need your permission to invite nobody to my fuckin’ house. If you ain’t pulled a damn gun on him, we wouldn’t even be here.”
Renza coughed into his drink, tryna’ hide a laugh.
Blaqson leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, starin’ at me like he was waitin’ on somethin’. The air was tight for a second, but I ain’t look away.
Pressure clapped his hands once, breakin’ the silence. “A’ight, so here’s what we not gon’ do. We not gon’ act like two hoes with hurt feelin’s in my damn game room. Y’all gon’ fix this shit today.”
Blaqson smirked, still lookin’ at me. “Yeah, I’m cool with that. I’m owed a fuckin’ apology anyway.”
I looked at him, my voice calm. “I don’t owe a nigga shit.”
Renza shook his head. “That’s a damn shame, bro. Y’all niggas actin’ like y’all don’t even know each other.”
Pressure dropped his dominoes hard. “Man, fuck all that. Ain’t nobody leavin’ this game room ‘til y’all squash this bullshit. I got some gloves if y’all wanna fight it out. Either way, it’s gettin’ handled tonight.”
I looked at him, smirkin’. “Go get them hoes then.”
Before Pressure could even move, Renza jumped in, holdin’ his hands up. “Nah, nah, nah, ain’t nobody fightin’. Y’all too damn old for that. Be grown men and talk about it.”
