Page 10

Chapter Nine

After making the drive to his temporary residence so he could catch a few hours of sleep and freshen up, Priest managed to get up at an appropriate time so he could get ready to meet J'Ru out in Harlem. Once he finished getting dressed, his Balenciaga trainers led him out of his bedroom and to the front room.

Surprisingly, his mother was seated at the counter in his kitchen with a plate of breakfast before her and a mimosa alongside it.

"Ma, what I tell you about just letting yourself in?" he asked his mother as he entered the kitchen. Priest greeted his chef, Talia, before thanking her for his breakfast and mug of coffee.

Sylvia waved her son off. "I'm your mother. I can let myself in whenever I want." She turned her lip up at him. As always, she was dressed to perfection. The nice crimson red pant suit she had tailored to fit her flawlessly complimented her honey golden skin and the blonde highlights in her hair that was styled in a nice side part bob. Her makeup was light, but the red lipstick she paired with it was striking. Sylvia pulled the look together with a pair of nude pointy toed stilettos that peaked out the wide trimmed bottoms.

Priest sighed. "You're correct about being my mother, but you can't just pop up at my house. You're invading my privacy." He spoke curtly to his mother before he began praying over his food.

Sylvia allowed her son to finish praying over his meal before she responded to him with a scoff. "I don't hear you saying that to the reporters crowding your building downstairs," she muttered before reaching into her purse to retrieve her newly purchased box of Newport cigarettes.

"Don't light that shit in my house," Priest gritted out sternly. Sylvia and Priest were a clear representation of hot and cold. They got along some days, and other days they didn't. They both wanted to heal the old wounds left behind from Sylvia’s parenting during Priest's upbringing, but it seemed like they just ended up avoiding it all. Priest bought his mother anything she wanted or needed. Although he didn’t agree with the things she did and the decisions she made while she was raising him, Priest kept his promise to not allow her to want or need for anything. Sylvia was living in the world of riches she'd always dreamed of, and it was thanks to her one and only son.

"Damn it, Priest. Is that the way you talk to your fucking mother?!" She slammed her hand against the marble countertop.

"Yes, when she continues to pop up unexpectedly after I told her to chill and when she wants to light a fucking cancer stick in my house after I told her to chill off that too!" Priest spat at his mother, his voice grumbling and intimidating to Talia who had yet to get used to the constant on and off bickering between Priest and his mother. Sylvia wasn't the least bit intimidating, but at the end of the day, she was still his mother, and she still believed she could take him out with ease, no matter how old he got, how many commas were in his bank account, or how strong he was.

Like a child, Sylvia rolled her eyes, waving Priest off as if he were a chastising parent."Here you go with that cancer stick bullshit," she muttered as she opened the pack of cigarettes, despite Priest's request to not light anything in his home. "Y'know, I wouldn't be on these fucking cigarettes if you didn't cut me off."

"A real functioning crackhead," Priest mumbled, shaming not only his mother, but himself too. At one point in time, he was providing his mother with all the narcotics she needed for no price at all. That was when they got along the most. Priest had finally put his foot down a few months back and cut his mother off, ending her supply of any drugs aside from the occasional weed that she didn't like too much. So far, Sylvia was doing great with her rehabilitation and sobering up from any use of coke, but she found a new habit that managed to get under Priest’s skin: smoking at least half a pack of cigarettes a day.

Sylvia chuckled, finding her son comical. "This functioning crackhead raised you. Remember that, you fucking asshole," she spewed at him.

Priest paid his mother absolutely no mind. He was sure tomorrow she would be back trying to be the sweetest and most loving mother in the world. It all depended on what side of the bed she woke up on.

"What the fuck do you want? You only stop by when you want something." Priest cut into his thick and fluffy waffles before stuffing his mouth with a fork full.

"Well, since you asked." Sylvia smiled before taking a puff of the lit cigarette. "I need twelve grand."

"For fucking what?!" Priest screwed his face up in annoyance.

"Your mom wants to start a business." Sylvia grinned giddily before ashing her cigarette into the breakfast Talia had just served her.

Priest shook his head. "Fuck no! I just shut down that bullshit attempt you made to open a fucking furniture store."

Sylvia was like an irresponsible child. Priest realized this as he got older and noticed his mother wasn’t as mature and responsible as he was. She didn't know how to handle money, her priorities were screwed up, and he didn’t even want to get started on the fact that she babysat her husband more than she ever did Priest and his sister Jazzlyn.

"Priest, you and I both know no one wanted those bullshit-ass couches. This business is legit and will make me some profit." She smiled. "It's a nail shop. I've always had the best nails, Priest. You know this." She chuckled before flashing her acrylic nails that were long and painted a striking red color with Swarovski crystals decorating them. Sylvia truly did always have the best nails. She took pride in keeping a full set of nails, even when she didn't have the money.

"This is my calling, Kanaz!" She clapped excitedly.

Priest chuckled lightly, finding her comical."You gotta be on that shit again." He shook his head as he dipped his waffle into some more syrup before eating it. "Money doesn't grow on trees, Ma. I can't just hand you twelve bands just because."

"That's not a lot compared to what you spend on jewelry and those damn cars. Not to mention, you have security detail and a jet," she began rattling off a few of Priest’s expenses.

He furrowed his brows."You're pocket watching me a little too much." He shook his head. "I ain't your fucking personal ATM. You want money? Go make that shit. I think I do enough. I bought you a house, two cars, and keep you laced in the best. Twelve grand won't be coming from my pockets, especially after I just gave you twenty bands to open a furniture store that you barely step foot in."

Sylvia cut her eyes at Priest. He looked so much like his father, Leonard, it was revolting to her. To top it all off, Priest acted just like Leonard as well.

"Fine, you fucking selfish asshole!" Sylvia ashed her cigarette, tossing it on Priest's breakfast that he wasn't finished with. "I'll just ask J'Ru. He seems to care about me more than you do! Your own mother, Priest!" She got up from her seat, tossing her classic LV tote onto her shoulder.

Priest pushed his cigarette contaminated breakfast away from him, no longer finding it appealing with the lipstick-stained cigarette that was still burning on top of it. He eyed his mother as she stared him down and hoped she guilt-tripped him enough to convince him to give her the money she needed.

"Ma, please don't make me snatch everything right from under you. Don't go embarrassing me by asking J'Ru for shit like I can't keep the people at my table fed," he warned her in a menacing tone.

"You can't, Priest!" Her heels sounded off against the wooden floors as she made her way to the elevator of the penthouse. "I'm fucking starving!"

Priest leaned back in his seat, watching his mother make her dramatic exit. Over the top would’ve been an understatement for Sylvia. Letting out a sigh, he retrieved his phone from his pocket, calling up J'Ru before Sylvia got the chance to.

"On my way now. Had to deal with some shit with the fam," J'Ru said, under the impression that Priest was calling because he already arrived at Remy's spot in Harlem, unaware that Priest hadn't even left his penthouse yet.

"You’re good," Priest assured while tossing on a hoodie to beat the rain outside."If my mama call you on some bullshit, hang up on her."

J'Ru chuckled, knowing how Sylvia and Priest got at times. "I can't hang up on her, but I will say no to her."

"Nigga, I said hang up on her ass," Priest reiterated while stepping into the elevator of his building so he could head to the parking garage.

J'Ru laughed. "Heard'ju, man. I'll be there in a min," Priest chuckled, knowing he was about to hear J'Ru's mouth for being late.

"Meet you there." Priest hung up the phone before getting into his Range Rover.

Pulling out of the parking garage, Priest thanked God for his tinted windows because the reporters crowding his building were all just lingering around waiting for him to come out. His mother, who had taken the car service instead of driving, had to deal with the swarm of reporters when she left Priest's penthouse unsatisfied with the fact that she wasn't getting her money. Even though she was pissed, she didn't give them anything to say about her son in the papers. She kept her sunglasses on and her head high, getting into the SUV without saying a word to them.

Priest got to Remy's place in no time. A small smirk played on his lips when he noticed Britain's car was parked in front of J'Ru's. He wasn't going to blow up Britain's spot with her father, so he was going to remain platonic with her as if they hadn't kissed and spent three nights with each other just talking.

Getting out the car, he trekked up the steps to the porch, knocking on the door. J'Ru answered with a plate of breakfast in his hand, stuffing his mouth with eggs. "Aye, you knew Remy had a daughter?! Shorty know how to throw down too." He smacked his lips in a satisfied manner, referring to the breakfast he was guzzling down. Priest chuckled. I know Britain all too well.

"Yeah, we met." He stepped into Remy's home, navigating his way into the living room where Remy was seated with his breakfast, along with Britain. Britain's eyes shifted from her food and onto Priest. A small smile played out on her lips as she waved at him. "What's up?" Priest smirked down at her before he gave Remy a strong handshake.

"Chilling like a villain," Britain shrugged, being her lighthearted and silly self. "You want any breakfast?"

"Nah, I'm good. I had some already. Thanks for offering." Priest took a seat opposite of Remy and Britain, right next to J’Ru.

"Brit, how about you leave us to talk, baby girl?" Remy glanced over at his daughter.

She nodded her head, respecting her father's wishes. She was sure she wanted no parts of whatever the men were getting ready to discuss. "Well, I'll be out of you guys' hair." She got up from the couch with her plate. Priest couldn't help but to admire her. The stone-gray leggings she was wearing cupped her ass perfectly, and she paired them with a plain black half shirt that had “Humans of New York” printed across the breast of it.

The men waited until Britain left the room before they began discussing the fatalities at the safe house in Rochester.

"Bro, who was those niggas? They pretty much fucked everything up." J'Ru shook his head.

"Some niggas around the way. They usually get shit done clean. I wouldn't have put them on if I knew this was the type of sloppy shit they were on." Remy was embarrassed to say the least. Although he wasn't the one who sloppily killed the five cops, he felt like he was to blame since he referred the guys. His reputation was on the line, and they fucked up.

Priest, who remained nonchalant, shrugged it off. "Them niggas ain't getting paid for the shit they just pulled."

Priest wasn't satisfied with the job at all, so he wasn’t going to break them off. Those niggas were sloppy, and they seemed inexperienced. Priest was beginning to regret even coming to Remy with this, wondering if he should have handled it himself. Killing the person who was set to testify against him in court wasn't anything to Priest, but five fucking police officers being killed on his behalf definitely was. He was sure the prosecutor was working hard to figure out how he was going to pin this on him.

Priest was and would always be two steps ahead of everyone. There would be absolutely no way anyone would be able to find out he was tied to this. "You got them, huh?" Remy leaned back with a smirk. He always admired how Priest hustled and maneuvered through life. He was truly a move in silence type of guy. He found no point in boasting and exploiting himself or his business.

Priest nodded. "Them niggas fucked me over, so now I gotta fuck them over.” He shrugged his shoulders, causing J'Ru and Remy to both chuckle. While Priest discussed a few things with J'Ru and Remy, he received a text from Britain.

Britain: When should we leave?

Priest let out a faint laugh as his fingers tapped away on the keyboard to reply to Britain.

Priest: That’s your call. Tryna’ make it obvious for your pops? He asked her.

Britain wasted no time typing up a witty response to send to him.

Britain: … I’m 28 years old. Grown as hell!

Priest found it amusing that Britain was all of a sudden grown as hell when it came to Remy knowing what was going on between them.

Priest: Heard’ju. We wrapping up in a sec. You can move now if you want. He replied to her with a smirk etched on his face.

He watched as the three little dots bounced at the bottom of the screen before Britain’s reply was delivered.

Britain: Sound more scared of Rem than I am. She decorated her text with a few laughing face emojis.

Priest shook his head before typing out a response.

Priest: Nah. I just don’t want no problems ‘bout you. Your pops been good to me. He clarified.

Seconds later, Britain’s response vibrated his phone.

Britain: Don’t worry about that changing. We’re just vibing.

He wasn't going to test Britain's claims by telling Remy he was spending time with his daughter. Just like she said, they were just vibing. Nothing more, nothing less.