Page 20 of Certified Pressure 4
“I don’t have to,” she replied. “Pain look the same on everybody.”
We sat like that for a while, passing the blunt, drinking, and listening to the waves. She talked about random stuff, the island,her friends and how peaceful Halo Key was. I didn’t say much, but I listened. It felt strange being around someone who wasn’t asking for nothing or expecting me to perform.
After a few minutes, two women walked up laughing and calling her name. One was tall with light brown skin and braids down her back, and the other had short curly hair with honey highlights. They looked like they belonged on a magazine cover.
“This is Soléa and Tirrah,” Nooré said, waving them over. “This is…” She looked at me, waiting for my name.
“Jayla,” I lied without thinking.
“Nice to meet you, Jayla,” Soléa said with a smile as she sat down and grabbed a cup.
Tirrah nodded, pulling out another blunt. “You from here?” she asked.
I hesitated, then shook my head. “No, I’m from… umm… Verris Heights. I came out here to clear my head.”
“What happened?” Nooré asked, her tone still gentle.
“My husband got murdered,” I said, the lie rolling out smooth. “It’s been hard dealing with it, so I came here to get away.”
All three of the girls got quiet for a second. Nooré reached over and touched my hand lightly. “I’m sorry, girl. That’s so heavy.”
I nodded, keeping my eyes low.
“Before we leave, let’s exchange numbers,” she said. “If you ever need something, anything, you call me. I mean that.”
I nodded again, even though I knew I wasn’t calling nobody.
The night kept moving, and the drinks kept coming. I was starting to feel lighter, not happy, but less hollow. The music played low while the waves crashed just far enough to sound like rhythm. I caught myself almost smiling when they started joking about something one of their friends did last week.
That’s when two men appeared, walking toward us from down the beach. One was short with locs that brushed his shoulders. He was wearing a tank and shorts. The other one made everything else fade for a second. He was tall and chocolate with a low tapered fade with thick waves, a beard that fit his face perfectly, and tattoos running down both arms. He had a clean white shirt that clung to his chest and the kind of smile that made my stomach flip. To say he was sexy, would be an understatement.
I tried not to look, but my eyes kept finding him. Nooré stood up and walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him like she’d been waiting to see him all night.
“Jayla, this my fiancé,” she said when they walked back over. “Lyrick, this is Jayla.”
He reached his hand out, and I shook it. His grip was firm, his skin warm, and I caught a faint trace of cologne that reminded me of something Pressure used to wear. I nodded and let go quick.
“You good?” he asked, his voice deep and calm.
“I’m straight,” I replied.
As the night went on, we all sat together drinking, laughing, and passing blunts around. I didn’t say much, but every time Lyrick laughed or leaned back, I noticed. There was something about him that pulled me in. Maybe it was how real he seemed, or maybe it was just the way he carried himself.
For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I was hiding. These people didn’t know who I was or what I’d done. They didn’t see a female who shot her fiancé or someone running from a family powerful enough to erase her. They saw a stranger who happened to stumble onto their beach, and that was enough.
As the night faded and the drinks settled in, I caught myself thinking that maybe this place wasn’t just a hiding spot. Maybe it could be the start of something else. I looked at the waves again,then at Lyrick, and felt something I couldn’t even bring myself to admit.
The Seraphine Suites
When I stepped out the backseat of my black Aurielle, the morning breeze brushed across my face and carried the faint scent of salt and jasmine from the gardens below. The Seraphine Suites towered high above the rest of the island, its gold-trimmed windows catching the sunlight like mirrors. I walked toward the private elevator with two of my guards following close behind. They were silent, but their focus never drifted from the hall. The suite where Sterling Charm had been held for the past three weeks was on the top floor. It was one of the most luxurious spaces in Trill-Land, yet it had become his cage.
Inside, everything glistened. The marble floors reflected the soft lights from the chandeliers, the curtains were drawn backto reveal the entire skyline, and the faint sounds of the ocean drifted in through the glass balcony doors. Sterling was standing near the window with his shoulders stiff and his reflection pale against the glass. I could tell he had not slept in days. His eyes were sunken, his jaw unshaven, and his hands were trembling slightly as he stared out into the night like a man trying to calculate the distance from his misery to his end.
He did not turn when I entered. I closed the door behind me, letting the sound of my heels carry through the room until I was halfway to him. “Good evening, Mr. Charm,” I said softly.
He spun around fast, his face tight with anger. “Don’t you ‘good evening’ me, evil bitch,” he snapped, walking up until he was standing only a few feet away. His voice shook with rage. “You’ve had me locked in this fucking room for three weeks. You’ve taken my phone, my freedom, and my dignity, and now you want to pretend we’re being polite? I don’t know where my daughter is, and even if I did, I would never hand her over to you, bitch.”
I let him speak. His finger rose toward my face, and I could see his desperation spilling through every word, but I did not move. My expression never changed. I waited until he ran out of air before answering.
