“Y’all see this shit?” he said loud as hell, spreadin’ his arms like the boat was his newborn. “I told y’all niggas I was gone get somethin’ that float AND flex.”
Pressure leaned back against the rail with his shades still on, lookin’ out at the water like he wasn’t impressed at all.
“So when you gon’ actually drive the boat?” he asked.
Renza puffed the cigar, slow as hell. “I been drivin’ it. It’s goin’ where I told it to go.”
Blaqson snorted. “This nigga ain’t touch the wheel once.”
Renza glanced at him sideways. “Why would I? That’s what I paid the captain for.”
Pressure shook his head. “You buy shit just to not do shit.”
“That’s the point,” Renza said, real calm.
I stood there with my drink in my hand, watchin’ the water roll by while the boat cut through it smooth. We was out on the open Trill waters, deep enough where the blue got darker and the air felt cleaner, like the world couldn’t reach us out here. This was the kinda place I liked to be, where the only problems that existed was which liquor to pour next.
Pressure had Cloud 9 Dining staff on board like it was nothin’. His chef was in the kitchen already movin’ around, plating shit like this was a floatin’ restaurant instead of a boat Renza just copped on a whim. Soon as the food started comin’ out, the whole vibe leveled up another notch.
We had lobster tails glazed just right with butter drippin’ down the sides, jumbo shrimp grilled and seasoned heavy,crab legs cracked open, steam still risin’ from ‘em. There was scallops sittin’ in a light sauce, oysters on ice, escargot served like it was casual and some type of fish I ain’t even bother askin’ the name of ‘cause it smelled like money.
We ate good, and drank better.
Spades came out later once the sun dipped just enough and the speakers started bangin’. Pressure rolled up that Trillium like it was second nature, the smoke thick but smooth, and Key Glock slid through the speakers, followed by Gates, then YoungBoy. Per usual, this was some rich nigga shit mixed with hood roots, and how it was supposed to be.
Renza threw the card down.
Blaqson sucked his teeth. “Man…”
Pressure glanced at the table. “You knew better than that.”
Renza leaned back, already reachin’ for his drink. “Y’all done?”
I laughed, but it didn’t last long.
Pressure looked at me longer than usual, not jokin’, or talkin’ shit, but just observin’. He knew me too well.
“You good? You been quiet,” he said.
Renza snorted. “Somethin’ always wrong with this nigga.”
I flicked my lighter, sparked the blunt again, and took a slow pull before I answered. “Ain’t shit wrong.”
Pressure raised a brow. “That’s how I know some shit wrong.”
Normally, I would’ve talked. Normally, I would’ve said somethin’, even if it was half the truth. But right then, my chest felt too tight to open that door, and explainin’ it felt heavier than just sittin’ in it.
So I shrugged. “I’m good.”
Renza laughed. “That’s that married nigga answer.”
Instead of goin’ off about the shit, I let it rock.
Right then my phone vibrated.
It was Toni.
My first instinct was to let that shit ring. We ain’t really been talkin’, not like that, and we definitely ain’t been touchin’. We was in separate rooms, had short conversations and too much space between us for a couple that used to breathe each other.
