Then we heard multiple car alarms going off.
Renza damn near levitated off the floor. “Oh, HELL nah! Aye, that nigga up!”
Pressure turned his head slow, like he was scared to even process what he just heard.
Four more shots rang out and every car alarm within fifty feet went off at the same time. It sounded like the end of the world outside.
The alarms kept blaring, and then something metal smacked the concrete like a bullet ricocheting.
Renza’s eyes stretched wide. “OH SHIT! He hittin’ the driveway. Pressure, go handle yo’ cousin!”
Pressure pressed his palms into his face like this was the longest day of his life. “Man, I knew knockin his ass out was gon’ come with consequences.”
Renza shook his head fast. “Consequences? Nigga, this ain’t consequences… this is WAR. He gon’ shoot his way into this house!”
Another loud pop echoed, followed by the unmistakable sound of something expensive getting hit.
Pressure’s whole body stiffened. He dropped his hands and turned toward the door with murder in his eyes.
“If this nigga shot my truck,” he muttered, “I swear to God?—”
Renza grabbed him again. “Wait! Don’t open it yet! Let him run outta bullets first! He emotional right now.”
Pressure ignored him and inched toward the door slow like he was stalking a wild animal. His steps were heavy as hell, each one sounding like the theme music to somebody about to lose their life.
I stayed behind, covering my mouth, peeking.
Pressure kept creeping until he reached the door. He cracked it just enough to see outside.
He squinted into the driveway. The alarms were still screaming and Kay’Lo was outside wild as hell.
Pressure opened the door wider and shouted, “Bitch! I know you ain’t shoot my shit up!”
Then I heard Kay’Lo shouting. “FUCK YOU, NIGGA! I BUILT ALL THIS SHIT! ALL THESE CUSTOM WHIPS IS ME! YOU GOT A PROBLEM? GO BUILD YO’ OWN SHIT, BITCH!”
Pressure slapped the door shut so fast the frame rattled.
He exhaled hard and leaned back on it. “Yeah… he gone.”
Renza blinked at him. “Gone how? Gone like outta bullets or gone like needs therapy?”
Pressure didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the locked door like he was praying it held.
“Why the fuck we forget to get his gun?”
“Nigga, you know how he dress. He clearly had that bitch tucked somewhere. That nigga comfortably sleep with a gun on him.”
Renza glanced toward me then back at him. “But umm… He ain’t shootmyshit up, right?”
Pressure shook his head slow. “I don’t fuckin’ know nigga, but what I do know is that nigga lucky my babies wasn’t in here.”
Then he turned slowly and looked at me.
And I could tell…
My husband was about to tear into my ass next.
As soon as we made it to the bedroom, Pressure went off.
