Page 34 of The Love of Priest 2

Looking over their shoulders, they spotted a woman sauntering her way across the club toward the front exit to leave.

Jazzy noticed it was the same woman who had come out of Cameron's office the last time she was there.

Her eyes fawned over the woman's nicely tailored mauve pantsuit which she paired with a set of nude heels.

Unlike last time, the woman's hair wasn't straightened in a short bob.

She had switched hairstyles and now styled herself with a sleek low ponytail that swayed with every step she took.

The same Gucci purse dangled from her hands, filled to capacity with what Jazzy assumed was cash like she had witnessed the last time.

They were sure that the woman didn't even notice their presence since she neglected to glance their way. Still with a questioning look contorting her face, Jazzy returned her attention to Taylor. "Who is that?" Jazzy asked Taylor, who was no longer confused by the woman's presence.

"Oh," Taylor waved off, hoping to dismiss Jazzy's worries. "That’s the accountant."

"This nigga needs an accountant?" Jazzy screwed up her face.

Taylor shrugged her shoulders. "Apparently," she muttered before leaning up in her seat to get closer to Jazzy. "But I think they're fucking," she whispered to her lowly.

Jazzy scoffed while shaking her head. "I wouldn't be surprised," she agreed.

"That seems like Ron's M.O." Jazzy wasn't worried about Cameron fucking anyone else.

Quite frankly, she would've been shocked to find out if he solely depended on her to keep his dick wet.

Her and Cameron fucking would never be a frequent thing.

She got her fix here and there, but she wasn't planning to fuck him every other day.

He was a single man and had the right to do as he pleased.

As long as he wasn't passing anything to her, then they were okay.

Taylor tilted her head to the side, not completely sold on what Jazzy was saying. "Actually, it's really not," she told Jazzlyn. "I've worked for him for years, and he's never tried to fuck me or any of the rest of the girls."

Jazzy was shocked to hear that Cameron never tried anything with the dancers. The way he portrayed himself to her, he seemed to have fucked each one of them. “Wait a minute," Taylor pointed at Jazzy with her eyes widened in disbelief. "You're fucking him, aren't you?!" Taylor exclaimed loudly.

Jazzy instinctively sent her hand upside Taylor's head. "Lower your fucking voice, bitch!" she ordered Taylor.

"So, you are fucking him?" Taylor gritted lowly, this time keeping their conversation between them and not whoever else was potentially in the club.

Jazzy smacked her lips while shaking her head. "Listen, it's nothing serious. I don't want him," she clarified. "I just fuck him from time to time. Don't obsess over something that's not there," she warned Taylor, who usually loved to meddle in her love life.

On the verge of responding to Jazzy, Taylor was interrupted by none other than Cameron himself. "Yo, you ready for tonight, Kitty?" he asked Taylor, referring to her by her stage name.

Taylor nodded her head as she eyed Cameron.

She should have known. Cameron was Jazzy's type: about his paper, stayed out the mix, and fly as hell.

His efforts couldn't have just been ignored by Jazzy like she claimed they were.

"Yeah, I'm ready, Ron," she confirmed. "But that's beside the point.

My girl Jaz needs a hook up with your accountant.

You think you can spare the information?

" Taylor flipped her hair over her shoulder, batting her long lashes at Cameron.

Jazzy's jaws clenched mildly. She had just warned Taylor not to obsess over her situation with Cameron, and here she was pulling some sly shit.

Jazzy didn't need a fucking accountant, but of course Taylor was going to make it seem as if she did just to figure out the truth about what was going on between Cameron and the woman.

Taylor felt like if Jazzy was fucking Cameron, she deserved to know if he was fucking anyone else.

She didn't want Jazzy in a situation like her and J'Ru.

Cameron’s captivating brown orbs shifted from Taylor to Jazzy. A light smirk played on his lips before he nodded his head. "No doubt," he agreed. "I have her card in my office. C'mon."

Jazzy snapped her head in Taylor's direction, shooting her a set of daggers. "Taylor, you go," she suggested.

Taylor rose to her feet with a scoff. "Bitch, I don't need her. You do, and besides, I gotta keep practicing for tonight," she laughed tauntingly as she strode toward the stage, resuming the loud music for her set.

Jazzy coldly rolled her eyes as she rose from her seat.

Grabbing her tote, she followed Cameron to his office.

She shut the door behind them in hopes of keeping the sound of the music out.

"So, you need an accountant?" Cameron smirked down at Jazzlyn who already had her hand out for the business card.

"Is that shocking?" She lifted an intimidating brow at him.

Cameron eyed her for a moment. That suave smirk remained on his face.

Every moment with Jazzy was entertaining.

She was a hardball. She liked giving him hell, but he was learning to enjoy the challenge.

Seeing that he was far more consumed with gawking at her, Jazzy put her hand down.

She blew out a light breath with a roll of her eyes before taking a seat in one of the chairs in his office.

She paid Cameron no mind as she turned her attention on the television.

It was showing the same news station that had been on standby in front of the courtroom.

It was evident that Cameron hadn't been paying as much attention to it as Jazzy was since he kept it on mute.

She reached across his desk, grabbing the remote and turning the sound on.

The reporter now stood in the frame of the camera with her branded microphone in hand. She watched intently as the reporter announced that the trial had finally come to an end. Jazzy felt a jolt of excitement rush through her veins, but she concealed her jubilation with a poker face.

Priest was finally free .

She wanted so badly to race to the courthouse and give her brother the biggest hug, but she couldn't, not right now at least.Glancing from the television briefly, Jazzy noticed that Cameron had taken a seat next to her.

He seemed uninterested by the news. "You actually watch this shit?

" he scoffed as he leaned back in his seat.

Jazzy nodded as her orbs trailed back to the television. "Yeah, the news is entertaining. Today at least.”

Cameron sighed with disdain in the shake of his head. "Too many bad vibes for me."

Jazzy pointed to the television. "Bad vibes?

This man just got out of serving life in prison.

That's something to celebrate." She was preparing herself not to take anything Cameron was about to say personal, despite Priest being her older brother.

Cameron was a careless guy. His opinions were nasty and scornful, so she didn't expect anything less from him.

"He's a fucking cornball," Cameron insulted Priest. Jazzy pursed her lips, refraining from going into ultimate defense mode on the behalf of her brother. "He's way too fucking commercial but claims that he's a street nigga."

"Are you hating because he moves smarter than you and the rest of these street niggas?" Jazzy slyly let out as she tilted her head to the side.

He screwed up his face, clearly offended. "Chill out, ma. I ain't hating on shit, but you starting to sound like a groupie."

She cut her eyes at Cameron. She couldn't really violate him how she would’ve violated anyone else because he was unaware of her relationship to Priest. She was sure that if he knew how close she and Priest were, he would have either kept his thoughts to himself or turned into the groupie he was claiming she was.

"Nigga, I'm not a bird. I’m nobody’s groupie," she checked him with a stern voice.

"And I'm also not a hater. He's a lot of things but give him props.

Even though he has a bad rep, he still made his way into rooms you can't even imagine sitting in.

Call him commercial all you want, but he's calculated and smart.

You, as a black man with a criminal record, try getting a second of the mayor's time and let me know how that goes for you. "

No one would ever get the chance to try to belittle Priest without her coming to his defense.

She was sure Cameron was convinced she was a fan of Priest, but she didn't care.

What she said was facts, and it spoke volumes.

Priest never tried to be a regular hood nigga.

He saw past that and found his purpose. That was why so many people, especially black men, loved to hate him.

Cameron let out a light chuckle, amused by how passionate Jazzy was about the conversation. "My bad then," he retorted, jokingly raising his hands in surrender. "We'll just agree to disagree and leave it at that."

Jazzy scoffed. "It's a shame how conditioned you are to believe that in order to be a street nigga you have to be dumb.

That's the main reason we get misrepresented now.

Instead of giving props to a nigga who's actually doing something and not just getting high off his product and stacking paper, you sitting in a shit hole of an office calling him a cornball from a set of busted, cheap and uncomfortable-ass chairs, but I digress.

" She shrugged with a tight-lipped smile, concluding the conversation.

Cameron's jaw clenched as Jazzy's words spewed senselessly out of her mouth. He grabbed the remote, turning the television off. She smirked knowing that she had just hit a nerve within him. "So do you have that card for me or not?" she asked with some amusement.