Page 11

A knock sounded at Britain's front door, causing her to ascend from her favorite spot and pause her dated episode of Forensic Files to answer the door. As she peered through the peephole, Priest looked like Wizard Kelly since his height prevented Britain from seeing anything above his neck.

Opening the door, Britain smiled up at Priest who smiled back down at her.

"What you in here doing?” he asked while shutting and locking the door behind him. She shrugged as she made her way back to her spot.

"Watching Forensic Files with some ice cream," she enlightened him before lounging on the couch again with the pint of ice cream in her hand.

Priest chuckled at how she decided to spend her day off. He took a seat in her favorite spot, causing her to give him a stale face. This time, he was nice enough to place her feet onto his lap instead of having them hanging off the couch.

"Alright, do me a favor and sit your piece on the table. I just watched a real fucked up episode of Forensic Files about a gun accidentally going off and ending a guy." Britain pursed her lips with a shake of her head. She was not trying to be a repeat of that.

Priest threw his head back in laughter, finding Britain's precautions entertaining. Sure enough, she watched him extract the jet-black piece of steel from his waist band, sitting it on the tempered glass living room table with a light clank.

Britain averted her eyes from the television and onto the gun. "You carry that around with you all the time?" she asked him while taking in a spoon of her vanilla bean ice cream.

Priest glanced from the gun and then to her with nod of his head. "I got to. A lot of niggas feel like they'll be better off with me dead. I can't have that." He leaned back in his seat. Britain could tell he was getting comfortable with her. Usually, Priest's posture would be straight as an ironing board, and he would constantly check his surroundings to ensure his safety. This was the first time Britain noticed him being more relaxed.

Priest had to admit, although he'd only known Britain for a little while, he was letting his guard down quicker than usual. He caught a vibe of peace from her. He didn't feel the need to be on his toes constantly or to be ready to off her before she offed him.

"Keep telling me your story." Britain turned the television off, sitting up so she was at attention.

Priest nodded. "Where did we leave off?"

Britain held her finger up, signaling him to halt. She got up from the couch and went to retrieve her journal. Priest chuckled at the fact that she managed to jot all these things down. She returned and reclaimed her seat beside Priest, flipping a few pages in the journal.

"You left off on the part where you came home, and the house was empty." She clicked her pen and positioned it so she would be able to begin jotting things down once he started speaking.

"Right, so after I got kicked off campus, I came home, and the house was empty. I took the back way in ‘cause I ain't want our nosy-ass neighbor to tell my ma I was home way earlier than I was supposed to be," Priest chuckled. "We had this big window where the couch was. It basically gave us a view of the front of the building. I remember looking through it and seeing all our shit outside. Our couch was so damaged, looked like it was thrown from our fourth -floor window. My moms had this cherrywood dresser her grandma left her when she passed, and all the drawers were missing. All our clothes were scattered along the yard in broad daylight.

“I was only fourteen and ain't know what the fuck to do, so I just sat on the floor until my mom showed up around five. It was evident that we had gotten evicted, but I was a little in denial. To me, there was no way she wasn’t paying the bills. We were living the best we'd ever lived. She got me nice things, kept herself looking good, and dude—" Dude was the term he used to refer to his mother's husband, Terrence. "He stayed looking sharp. I was confused about how we all managed to look like we were living good, but we ended up being put out like shit. The more I sat, the angrier I got. I'd always been an angry kid since I was being lied to from day one, so when I clicked out, there was no calming me down. I started fucking up the apartment as much as I could. In my mind, this was all just some big-ass misunderstanding. There was no way we were getting put out. My mom looked at me with the guiltiest set of eyes I'd ever seen before and told me there was no use and that I shouldn't spend my time being angry like an ignorant child. Instead, she claimed I should have spent my time going downstairs to gather all my good and expensive shit before people started snatching it." Priest chuckled with a shake of his head.

Thus far into his story, Britain wasn't much of a fan of Sylvia. She would never discredit someone's parenting, but Sylvia sucked at being an adult and a mother. It was clear that Sylvia was too selfish to ever need children, but she had them anyway. All she cared about was herself.

"That night, I remember my mom giving me enough money to take the bus to J'Ru's house. I asked where she and dude were gonna lay their heads, and she told me to stay in a child's place. I got on the bus with a big black trash bag full of the few of my clothes that remained downstairs. When I got to J'Ru's, his mom accepted me in with open arms. I remember just sobbing while she held me. At that point, I felt like I was too old to be crying, but I really couldn't hold it in. I remember my mom disappearing for like two months after that. I found out that my little sister Jazzy was living with my auntie Evette and her crooked-ass husband, Mike. Me and J'Ru took the bus over to where they stayed after school one day, and I remember seeing Jazzy sitting on the steps in front of their building. She was five at the time and only in kindergarten. When she saw me, she got so happy. She ran up to me and J'Ru, giving us a big hug. I remember asking her why she was outside, and she told me she usually had to wait until Mike got home from work so she could get into the apartment. I was hot when I heard that. She was only five, and they had her sitting on the steps alone for four hours. I blamed myself for that a lot. If I would’ve tried harder to figure out where she was, she could have been with me at J'Ru's house." He sighed before running a hand down his face.

Britain realized whenever Priest mentioned his sister Jazzy, he spoke with so much love and conviction. It was evident his younger sister meant a lot to him, despite the fact that half of her creation was thanks to the man he hated with his entire being.

"Jazzy ended up coming with me that night. No one called for her or even looked for her, and that caused my blood to boil. Jazzy was innocent, way more innocent than I was, and no one attempted to figure out where she was." He shook his head. The way his face was contorted made it evident that he still hadn't come to terms with everything. It didn't matter how long ago it happened; he was still angered by it.

Priest halted the story for a moment, something he did when he just needed time to recollect himself. Britain didn't mind. Even she needed a moment.

"J'Ru's mom made sure me and Jazzy were comfortable on the couches she had in the living room. One night, Jazzy ended up wetting the couch she was sleeping on. She woke me up to help her, and I did. Jazzy wasn't a bed wetter at all, so I was confused by it. When I got her into the bathroom, I started the water for her, and I remember asking why she was sleeping with no bottoms on. She looked up at me and told me that—" Priest cleared his throat as he looked straight ahead instead of giving Britain eye contact like he often would.

"She told me that Uncle Mike told her she had to sleep with no bottoms on to make things easier for the both of them. Jazzy was only five. She was naive and impressionable, and Mike took complete advantage of that. The son of a bitch had been molesting my five-year-old little sister since the first night my mom carelessly dropped her off at his house. At that point, my anger turned into rage. I didn't know what to do. I was fucking lost. Here I was, fourteen years old, helping my sister after she had an accident in bed, only to hear that she'd been getting molested for two whole months. I'd never had an urge to kill until then, if I'm being honest. I wanted Mike, Evette, my mother— everyone who had anything to do with the abuse Jazzy went through while at the hands of that sick-ass nigga— dead.

"Jazzy was confused at my anger. Mike had manipulated her into thinking what he was doing to her was normal and that she should be happy because it made her a big girl."

Britain was disgusted. She wanted to throw up everything that was brewing in her stomach. Swiftly, she shut her journal, sitting her pen down. At the sound of the journal shutting, Priest snapped out of his reminiscent thoughts and averted his attention onto Britain.

"What's wrong?" he asked her, wondering why she stopped jotting things down.

Britain shook her head. "I-I can't hear any more."

She had never heard something so vile and sinister. She couldn't bear to listen to Priest go into detail about what Mike did to Jazzy. Her stomach, mind, and heart simply weren’t built for it. If he went any further, Britain was sure she would regurgitate all she had eaten that day.

"I'm sorry," Priest apologized. "It's my first time ever telling anyone. I should have been mindful."

"It's not your fault," Britain assured him. "None of it was your fault."

"Thank you," Priest expressed his gratitude. The look in his dark orbs assured Britain he was appreciative of the moment.

Britain nodded her head. She wasn't sure whether she wanted Priest to continue with the rest of his story. She remembered the first night they went to the diner, he gave her a full disclaimer that the story of his life was an inclining progression of hell. At the time, Britain just thought Priest was trying to scare her off because he truly had nothing interesting in his life aside from the criminal charges he was facing. After hearing the anecdote of Jazzy within his overall life story, she was beginning to regret ever doubting him.

Britain wasn't sure where to proceed from there. The story left a cold and disturbed atmosphere surrounding them.

"Go get dressed," Priest instructed as he rotated his head in her direction. A questioning look masked her face, but he quickly answered her unspoken question. "I'm taking you out."

"Was that an order or a polite request?" Britain raised her arched brow.

Priest let out a chuckle, followed with a sigh. "My fault. May I take you out?" he corrected himself.

Britain sat beside him acting as if she was in deep thought and trying to make a decision. "Depends on where we're going."

Priest sighed at how much of a pain in the ass she could be. "Just go get dressed," he insisted.

She eyed him skeptically before getting up. She trashed her pint of ice cream before she drifted off into her bedroom. "I'm gonna head out to go to my place. You'll be ready in an hour or two?" Priest stood up as he read a text message from J'Ru.

"Hopefully!" she shouted from her bedroom where she was standing in her closet just staring at the array of clothing options. Priest chuckled before putting his phone away and reclaiming his gun from the table. The feeling of the weapon back in his waistband gave him the security he felt he needed as soon as he stepped out of the door. Britain heard the door shut behind him, indicating he had left.

Getting into his car, Priest pulled off in the opposite direction of his house. He planned on heading home after handling some unfinished business. It was still daylight, which allowed the busy atmosphere of New York to engulf Priest. He didn't want to deal with traffic, but he didn't have much of a choice. He preferred a silent car ride, so he simply sat through the traffic until he got to his destination. Getting out of his car, Priest navigated to the back of the building, where he utilized a keypad to gain access.

After he entered, he made sure the door shut and locked behind him. The temperature within the building was humid and the light fixtures were dim. Priest’s eyes scanned the area, but he didn’t see or hear signs of anyone. He trudged further inside and was met with a thick steel set of elevator doors. Pressing his finger against the only buttons on the panel, he took a step back, waiting for the doors to open. He stepped inside, applying his finger on the last button on the panel. The elevator ride was swift. Priest paid no attention to the slight bumps, flickering light, or the number of cobwebs woven through the corners of the lift.

The doors glided open, and Priest's attention was drawn to the small puddle that was beginning to accumulate due to a leak generating droplets of water every few seconds. He stepped around the puddle, entering the basement of the building.

"We ready for ya'." J'Ru smirked before dapping Priest up.

"Good looking out," he thanked J’Ru while he led the way to the three chairs in the middle of the floor that had men bound to them.

A chuckle filtrated out of Priest as he stepped around the chairs to stand face to face with the three niggas who recklessly completed the job they were hired for. Remy was seated in the back with a blunt to his lips.

"Yo, Kaymen! Bring that shit in for me." Priest’s head shot up as his attention diverted from the three men who seemed scared shitless at the predicament they landed themselves in. Although their mouths weren't covered, they wouldn't dare utter a word. They were a little shaken up at how they were just snatched up sporadically in broad daylight. The ride to the unknown location was stressful since they all were wondering who could have possibly done this to them.

Priest stood tall as he peered down at them. It was like they were eyeing him as if he were their maker. They were positive the end started here. Priest pulled his jacket off, handing it to J'Ru along with his jewelry. He then proceeded to pull a pair of black leather gloves over his hands.

Kaymen hauled in a portable table that he pushed around on squeaky wheels. The table held a spread of different weapons that could bring the toughest man to his knees. Priest glanced down at the table with a satisfied look on his face and thanked Kaymen before returning to the stance he took before the three men. Reaching behind him, he clutched the padded handle of an eighteen-inch barong bladed machete. The machete was so sharp, the blade was nearly invisible. Priest took a moment to admire its quality, which brought a smirk to his face. A tightness surfaced within the chests of the three men once Priest extended his arm, stopping the machete right at the tip of the nose of one of the three men.

"Gimme your name," Priest ordered a baritone voice that let everyone know what type of time he was on.

The male clenched his jaw, surveying the end of the machete nestled practically between his eyes. He was sure if Priest moved forward just an inch the razor-sharp blade would be puncture his skin.

"Ale," he mustered out. Out of the three, he kept his head held high, keeping precise eye contact with Priest. His body tensed in fear, but his heart was pushing him toward bravery and courage, both of which Priest didn’t give a fuck about. Priest nodded before going down the line to the male who sat in the center.

"You?" Priest raised a brow at him.

"Nate," he gritted out.

Priest shifted his attention to the last guy with the crest of the machete only centimeters from his chest. "Don," he informed Priest.

"Well, I'm glad you three could join me today. I have to admit, it was pretty fucking easy to find you flashy motherfuckers." Priest shrugged, earning some amused laughter from J'Ru, Kaymen, and Remy.

"Details of a particular job were discussed with you guys by my family, Remy." Priest glanced over at Remy who nodded in confirmation. The three men shot lethal glares over at Remy who wasn't in the same predicament as they were. Instead, he was leaning back in his seat, smoking some exotic bud. "Instructions were pretty fucking easy to understand. We pretty much handed you niggas the entire play. I had my boy Kaymen endlessly on watch for that house for about four days. Kaymen, these niggas wasted your time and work?" Priest averted his attention to Kaymen who stood off to the side watching everything unfold.

Kaymen nodded his head. "Sure did. I gave these niggas a detailed run down of how shit operated. Times were down to the second. I'm not sure how they fucked up." He shrugged his shoulders in disappointment. The nightly work he put in to ensure these niggas had a fool proof mission without any slip ups costed him some time with Jadey. He was now seeing the opposite side of happy wife, happy life.

"You niggas were told to off Tony and Tony only. I'm not sure what part of those instructions fell on deaf ears. And not only did y'all blatantly go against instructions, but y'all niggas senselessly pulled up to Remy's spot, demanding a bag as if y'all actually pulled through." Priest shook his head, shaming them. "You niggas lack brains and fucking respect.

"All of this isn't just you niggas’ fault. I'm gonna take blame for not being strategic enough when it came to appointing you niggas the job. Clearly, y'all niggas’ work ain’t on my level." Priest shrugged his shoulders while waving the machete in the air carelessly. The eyes of the three men began to bulge as he got closer to them with the flesh puncturing blade.

"Remy, since these niggas disrespected you and your home," Priest looked over his shoulder and said, "I'll give you the honor of picking."

Remy pulled his blunt from his lip, a smirk dancing on his face. "Get Mr. Tough Guy on the left for me," he chortled out.

Priest nodded as he sauntered over to the left. Lifting his right foot from the ground, Priest kicked one of the metal legs of the chair, sending Ale down onto his back. His eyes fixed themselves on the ceiling as he cried in agony at the impact his head made against the cement flooring and the disturbing popping sound both of his shoulders made due to his hands being restrained behind the chair. Priest stood over him. A daunting and menacing smirk etched his face as his watched pain mask Ale's face. Lifting his foot once more, Priest applied pressure onto Ale's neck.