Page 44 of Certified Pressure 4
The car door opened, and I slid in, my mind already spinnin’. I called one of my pilots and told him to prep my other jet. I wanted that shit fueled, stocked, and in the air within the hour. He didn’t even question me.
As we pulled off, I looked out the tinted window, thinkin’ about Kay’Lo sittin’ in some cold-ass cell right now. Renza too. Blaqson too. Nah, that wasn’t gon’ sit right. Them niggas was mine, and I moved different when it came to mine.
Whatever city it was, whatever jail it was, I was touchin’ down. Whether I had survived five bullets or five hundred of them hoes, today wasn’t gon’ be no peaceful day for whoever thought they could play with my family.
Greystone City
I had been in the city for ‘bout six hours and I was already tired of talkin’ to these muthafuckas. Every time I turned around, it was another question, another form and another runaround about why they couldn’t just let my people out. I done talked to clerks, lieutenants, jail supervisors, and some slick-tongued ass district attorney that kept talkin’ to me like I ain’t understand English. I was one call away from losin’ it.
They finally let Renza and Blaqson go after I put up bail money that could’ve bought a house, but when I brought up Kay’Lo, everything got quiet. That’s when they started talkin’ about “active investigation” and “pending homicide review.”
I finally caught another clerk at the counter who looked like she wanted to say more than she was supposed to. When I asked if Kay’Lo was comin’ home or not, she hesitated, then said, “They’re holding him on a possible homicide.”
That’s when I knew shit was gettin’ real.
Nobody had to spell it out for me. The way her eyes dropped said enough. My stomach got tight, not outta guilt but outta anger, ‘cause now I understood why they wasn’t lettin’ my cousin go. They was tryna paint it like he was out here wildin’ when the truth was them boys came to that Airbnb lookin’ for a body, and they found their own.
Kay’Lo ain’t kill nobody that ain’t ask for it. They came to his door, armed, and he defended himself and his woman. I told an officer that, clear as day, but all he said was, “The amount of bullets discharged and the firearm being unregistered complicates things.”
I wanted to laugh in his face. Complicates things? These niggas came shootin’. Kay’Lo just finished it.
By the time I walked out that station, the sun was already down, and I felt like I aged a year. I could finally breathe knowin’ Renza and Blaqson was out, but Kay’Lo sittin’ in that cell was eatin’ at me. The way the system worked out here inGreystone Citywas dirty. They wasn’t used to our kind of money or our kind of influence, and I could tell by the way them fuck ass officers looked at me that they was gon’ make me fight for this one.
I got us a suite at the Regal Crown downtown, top floor, private balcony, somethin’ decent enough to let us think. When we got there, Renza kicked off his shoes and dropped on the couch like he been locked up for weeks. “Man, that jail shit was aggravatin’ as hell,” Renza said, stretchin’ out and reachin’ for the Hennessy I’d grabbed from the minibar.
Blaqson was standin’ by the window, still lookin’ on edge. “That shit was some bull, P. They talkin’ like Kay’Lo did somethin’ wrong. I told ‘em them boys broke in, but they don’t give a fuck. They see a dead body, and we the bad guys automatically.”
I poured up a drink, my mind racin’. “Yeah, I know. They gon’ try to play this like ‘Lo the problem. They don’t give a fuck about who shot first.”
Renza sat up and shook his head. “I’m tellin’ you right now, they gon’ hit him with that overkill shit. They said he fired twelve rounds. They gon’ say that’s excessive.”
I took a slow sip, lettin’ the burn hit my chest. “They can call it what the fuck they wanna call it. That man kicked his door in. You come for mine, I’m emptyin’ the whole clip too.”
The room went quiet after that. Nobody wanted to say it, but we all knew the truth. Kay’Lo was lookin’ at a real case, and the laws out here wasn’t like Trill-Land’s. This city had a record of makin’ examples outta black men who defended themselves.
I spent hours makin’ calls, checkin’ with my lawyer, sendin’ money, and signin’ electronic papers. I done pulled every string I could pull, but Kay’Lo’s name kept comin’ up with red flags. Every call ended the same. “It’s complicated.” “He’s bein’ held without bond.” “They can’t release him until the DA reviews it.”
By the time I finally sat down on the bed, my phone had thirty-somethin’ messages. Most of ‘em was business, but the ones that stood out was from Pluto.
The first text was calm.Hey baby, just checking on you.
Then another one a few hours later.You didn’t answer, I’m starting to get irritated.
Then the last one.You always claim you love me but disappear like this. I don’t know what you got going on but I’m not stupid.
I sighed and rubbed my hand over my head. She had every right to be mad, but I ain’t had no time to explain shit. I had my people locked up, and I couldn’t think straight till he was free. Still, the guilt sat heavy.
I stepped out on the balcony. I hit her number, and she answered on the third ring.
Her voice came sharp, full of attitude. “So, you finally decided to call?”
I leaned on the railing. “Don’t start that, baby. I been handlin’ somethin’ serious. I texted you.”
“Texted?” she snapped. “Pressure, I been calling you all damn day. You ain’t pick up once. I don’t care about no text. If you wanted to talk to me, you would’ve.”
“I’m talkin’ to you now, ain’t I?”
“That’s not the point. You can’t go over twelve hours without checking in and think that’s okay.”
