Page 24

Seven nodded her head. "I did. I was in the neighborhood, so I just stopped by. Is it that big of a deal?"

Britain let out a sigh before shaking her head. "I guess not, Ma. You've met Priest already." She smiled lightly, making her way over to Priest and sitting next to him.

"I have. Y'know, after I was met with the barrel of his gun." Seven side-eyed Priest.

Britain’s eyes widened before she hit Priest's arm. "You pointed a gun at my mother?!" she stressed.

"After she pointed one at me. She rolled in here strapped," Priest clarified with a light laugh. The standoff they had with each other was quite funny to him. He noticed the resemblance Britain shared with the woman, so he just put his piece down while she kept hers up and aimed at him. She asked him who he was and what his relation to her daughter was, to which he responded, " Priest, her sudden interest .” Seven found the way he referred himself as Britain's sudden interest pretty funny, so she put her gun down and offered Priest a drink, and they just chatted until Britain returned.

Letting out a sigh at her unbearable mother, Britain shook her head. "Ma, didn't Henderson tell you to stop carrying your gun around?"

Seven smacked her lips, waving Britain off. "Henderson wasn't there when I got mugged twice leaving the clinic late at night. My pistol was." Seven clutched her weapon, extracting it from her purse with a light smile. Priest couldn't contain his laughter.

Now he knew where Britain got her humor from because it for damn sure wasn't Remy.

"Alright, Ma. Is that all?" she asked her mother.Seven shook her head. Whenever her daughter felt like a situation was forced, she would try to put an end to it immediately. Seven knew this wasn't how Britain envisioned her first encounter with Priest would have gone, but it happened, and there was no going back. "Actually, no. Priest told me you were cooking." She placed her hand on her flat stomach, indicating that she could go for some food.

"Yeah, you hungry, Seven?" Priest asked to Britain's dismay, causing her to groan internally.

"I sure am." Seven nodded her head.

Britain got up from her seat next to Priest and made her way to the front door of her apartment. "Great, Ma. I'll drop a plate off once it's finished. Thanks for stopping by." She opened the door for her mother's exit.

Amused by her daughter, Seven rose from her seat. "I guess I'll go bother your brother and that loudmouth baby mother of his," she muttered with a roll of her eyes since she really didn't like Brixton's choice of woman to bear a child with.

In relief, Britain smiled. "Thank you, Ma. Love you, girl." She shared a hug with Seven.

"Yeah, yeah." She waved her daughter off. "It was nice meeting you, Priest."

"Pleasure was all mine," he charmed her with his beguiling smile.

Seven exited the apartment, causing Britain to shut the door behind her rather quickly. She was sure Seven would call later to get the entire spill on Priest. Turning around to face Priest with a glare, she evoked some amused laughter out of him. "It's not funny," she sassed with her hand on her hip.

Priest nodded his head. "It is, though." He continued to laugh. "Why you acting like a tight ass?"

Britain shuffled her way over to him with a frown embedded on her face. "Can I be honest with you?" She now stood before him. Her tone was heavy and full of seriousness.

Priest’s face softened as he sympathized with her. "Yeah." He nodded. "All I expect is honesty from you."

Britain took a seat next to him, angling herself to face him. "So, I went to Whole Foods," she began, trailing her eyes down to her hands and fiddling with them.

Using his finger, Priest guided her head back up so she could maintain eye contact with him. "Talk to me, not your hands," he advised her.

Britain nodded and kept her head up. Her eyes locked with his. She could see deep concern within them. Her sudden sadness had him worried and ready to get to the bottom of who or what the catalyst of it was. "I ran into my ex," she admitted.

Priest wasn't intimidated or bothered by the fact that she encountered her ex while he wasn't present. He was more bothered by the effect it had on her. If he later found out that Britain was still stuck on her ex, he would take a step back from what they had going on. He didn't want to be in competition with another man. That wasn't his style. "So, what's up?" He shrugged his shoulders. "He did something to you?"

Britain shook her head. "Aside from making me feel like shit, he didn't do anything else."

"Why he got so much power over you,Gioia?" Priest asked her.

Britain shrugged as she raked her fingers through her hair. "I gave him the leverage to taint me. He picked me when I was vulnerable and made me feel like the way he treated me was how any man should treat a woman. I would never allow myself to want him again, but is it bad that I want him to want me? I crave the satisfaction of turning him away, making him feel how he made me feel." Britain’s mind was wired to make her feel as though the only way she could redeem herself was to reverse the roles of their ancient relationship on Cameron. She knew there was no chance of that happening, though. He seemed happily married and happy with his daughter. Britain was stuck with the what ifs while he continued to live with no care or regard for her.

The way he spoke to her made her feel like he was just catching up with a colleague or an old classmate. He didn't make her feel like she was the woman he poured himself into, the woman who catered to his every need as if she were his mother, the woman who listened to his insecurities and patched up his opened wounds so he could be healed for the woman who now had the privilege of being his wife. Britain just wanted respect, recognition, appreciation. Was that too much to ask for?

Priest reached his hand out for her, and she took it. He pulled her closer, and Britain fell onto his chest where he proceeded to hold her. She didn’t know how much she needed his embrace until she felt her salty tears grace her face.

"You don't like to validate or concede to your pain, but that's fundamental shit you're gonna have to do in order to heal and move on properly. I'm not sure to what extent this person has hurt you, but what I can say is that it's not the end of the world. Your days are still what they are with or without him: your days. Don't allow his manipulative ways to revert you back to the girl you once were. You're a woman of caliber now, the one who pays her own bills." Britain and Priest both let out light laughs at the fact that he resurfaced the witty remark she slashed him with during their first encounter.

Priest knew Britain was used to a dominant-submissive relationship where she felt obliged to please the person she was with. Priest wasn't interested in any of that. The first thing he liked about her was the fact that she held her own. She could go tit-for-tat without apologizing for it. She was independent and demanded so much respect without uttering a word. One man was all it took to make her fall to her knees; however, Priest was trying to prevent that. He wasn't going to strip her of her backbone like Cameron had done. He was only going to make her stronger.

"Thank you." Britain sniffled from her cries and lifted her head to look up at Priest. With her face stained with tears, Priest still found her gorgeous. With the pads of his thumbs, he gently wiped away her tears."It’s nothing." He shrugged. "I care for you.”

Britain felt an urge within her. It was the same way she always felt whenever she told Cameron she loved him. The spark was always short-lived since he never reciprocated the three words. The words piled onto the tip of her tongue as she locked eyes with Priest. Hesitant to allow a man to know how important she considered him, Britain did something Priest had never witnessed her do before: she held back.

"Don't start holding back now." Priest shook his head. "Whatever it is, you can tell me,” he encouraged her with a set of soft eyes Britain had never seen from him before. He seemed to have let his guard down completely. He was beginning to trust her wholeheartedly.

"We're not ready for it yet." Britain shook her head, remaining openly honest. "I don't want to scare you off."

"I don't fear much, Gioia," he reminded her.

Britain nodded. "I know, but it scares me."

"Understood," Priest concluded, no longer feeling the need to press her to open up. Things flowed organically with them. He was sure that whatever she was holding back would soon flow out of her organically as well.

Later that day, Britain cooked dinner, but Priest ended up not being able to stay to eat. He promised he would be back later since he had to go get Jazzlyn from the airport and get her acclimated into the penthouse.

In his car, with the address of the private airport programmed into the GPS, Priest kept his mind on Britain. The events of their talk replayed in his head. He didn’t want to jump to assumptions that she was denying that she loved him, but he didn’t know what else it could have been.

His phone vibrated on his lap, pulling him from his heavy thoughts. Glancing down at the phone, he noticed it was J'Ru calling. A light smile graced his face since it had been a few days since he and his bro last chopped it up. Answering the call, his phone immediately connected to the Bluetooth of the vehicle. "Yuuurrr, what's cracking nigga?!" J'Ru exclaimed over the phone, causing Priest to laugh.

"Shit. About to go get Jazzy from the ramp," Priest informed him as he switched lanes to get off on the upcoming exit.

J'Ru chuckled. "She hit my line the other day asking me what's been keeping you occupied." Priest wouldn't say Jazzy was territorial over him, but she liked to be aware of any new changes that happened in his life so she could be prepared. Britain had become an addition to his lifestyle, and he knew his time with her had caused some changes within his life. When Priest spent time with Britain, his phone was shut off, making it hard to get in contact with him. Jazzy had grown used to having her brother accessible to her at all times of the day and night, so it caught her off guard that he was dubbing her calls. She wasn't rubbed the wrong way by it; she just wanted to be a little nosy.

Priest shook his head at the fact that everyone felt the need to question either J'Ru or Kaymen when it came to his personal life. "Word? She really tryna get info about what I got going on? That's wild."

"She's just concerned and nosy as hell," J'Ru assured him with a laugh. "Just to let you know, I ain't tell her spoiled ass shit. Whatever she knows is from her own digging or your silly ass slipping up," he warned Priest.

A chuckle filtered out of Priest before he responded. "Ain't shit to tell her, man. I'm just cooling it and letting life take its course before they try to burry a nigga under the prison."

"Following in your pop’s footsteps, I see," J'Ru said in a jesting manner.

"Nigga, fuck you," Priest laughed. "Difference between me and Leonard is I'll El Chapo my way out of that bitch, not dick ride," Priest declared confidently.

"Always talking out the side of yo’ fucking neck, man," J'Ru laughed. "Almost forgot what I called you for. We meeting at your spot before the trial or you wanna just ride without security, you and me?"

"I'm not really fucking with moms for the way she came at my shorty at the event. Plus, Jaz coming in, so I gotta keep them far from each other," Priest explained.

J'Ru sighed, fully aware that Jazzlyn and Sylvia couldn't be in the same room with each other for a few minutes without them bickering with each other. Plus, from what he knew, Priest had yet to check her for her behavior toward Britain, so Sylvia was getting iced out hard right now. "Women driving you crazy, huh?"

"If only you knew." Priest shook his head. "I'll just send a car for moms at her spot. Do me a solid and ride with her so she doesn't do no stupid shit for those fucking cameras."

Dreading spending time with Sylvia, J'Ru let out a groan, causing Priest to laugh. "I would do it, but you know I need silence on the ride there. She gone get to chatting my fucking ear off," Priest said to J'Ru in hopes of convincing him.

"Heard’ju. Just be on your shit Monday. We tryna walk you out of there a free man without you headlining the papers for some dumb shit you decided to say," J'Ru teased. Their last time in court, Judge Amos had to call Priest out for his explicit language and how lightheartedly he was treating the situation.

Priest laughed, knowing it would be best for him to be far more serious this time around since the prosecutor was gunning to blame him for the invasion of Tony's safe house and murders of the watch officers and their testifying witness. "Listen, I'm gone keep it gangsta, nigga," Priest assured J'Ru.

"You do that. Stay safe," J'Ru said.

"You too." With that, the call ended at the perfect time as Priest pulled up to the ramp.

"Nice to see you, Mr. Justice." The security guard tipped his hat at Priest in a respectable manner.

Priest flashed him a polite smile before thanking him for allowing him access through the gates. Slowly, Priest accelerated his car until he was advised by one of the ramp operators he could go no further. Jazzy had texted him mid-air letting him know that she was due to land any minute. He beat her to the ramp by just a few minutes, allowing him to prop himself against the front of his car and watch as the aircraft landed gracefully.

After a moment of waiting, the door of the jet opened, and the ramp operator assisted Jazzy out. Setting his sights on his little sister caused his heart to swell. She was made for the glitzy lifestyle he believed; however, he had instilled in her a sense of humbleness and generosity as well. As she walked down the runway wearing her classic white Moncler coat and her Audermars Piguet watch clinging to her wrist, Priest couldn't deny how much she reminded him of himself.Standing at five-foot-eight, Jazzlyn was nothing short of gorgeous. She had the physique of a model with her striking long legs and mildly curvy frame. Her honey golden skin tone contrasted perfectly against her natural jet-black tresses that flowed gracefully down her back. Priest believed she was the perfect mixture of his mother and her father.

Like always, whenever they were greeting each other after their long timespans of being away from one another, Jazzy approached him with a left hand cupped around her mouth as if she was some professional beatboxer and began beatboxing awfully. "C'mon, PJ! Hit me with some fire shit," she attempted to get a freestyle out of him.

"Man, stop playing," Priest laughed, waving Jazzy off. Jazzy stale faced him. "Well, if you're ain’t about to spit some hot shit, allow me to." She smiled.

Priest couldn't help but laugh before cupping his hand over his mouth, continuing the beat she made by beatboxing. "Just hopped off a jet from Paris, wanna give my big bro a hug, but he smells like a pound of fucking cannabis, if we get pulled over ‘cause he got weight in the car, it ain't none of my damn business," she rhymed before getting hype over the fact that it came right off the top of her dome. "You can't say I ain't kill that!" She jumped up and down like an Energizer bunny.

Priest doubled over in laughter, finding her dried-up rhymes pitiful yet funny. "Man, that shit was fucking trash." He wiped the tears that began to accumulate in his eyes from his laughter.

Jazzy halted her excitement for what she thought was some pretty hot shit and hit her brother on the arm. "No, it wasn't. I'm your favorite rapper's favorite rapper." She flipped her bone straight hair over her shoulder.

Priest laughed before aiding her as she climbed in the car. "I missed your dumb ass," he admitted while popping the trunk so her bags could be packed into the vehicle.

Jazzy beamed her gorgeous smile. "I missed you too, PJ." She opened her arms for a hug, and he reached over the console of the car, granting her one. They locked each other tight in their arms. Growing up, they were all each other had, and now, as two adults, they kept the promise they made to each other that they would always be there for one another. Jazzy took the promise as literal as she could. She wanted to be present during Priest's trial, but he refused. He didn’t want to distract his little sister from her dreams. If only he knew that the more he kept her away, the more distracted she was.

Jazzy wanted to just downright quit fashion school, and like any other irrational decision she wanted to make in her life, Priest forbade her from doing it. The reason she had given Priest for flying out to New York for the moment was because she missed home, but truthfully, it was because she had already dropped out of fashion school in Paris but was too afraid to inform Priest of her decision. She knew he was going to blow his top when she told him, but she truly felt like living in New York was much more her speed.

After their moment of just hugging, Priest navigated from the premises of the private airport and set out on the road toward the penthouse. "How is Paris?" Priest asked her. She was getting sick of that same tired-ass question.

Paris was Paris, beautiful all day and night— nothing new or exciting. "It's cool." Jazzy shrugged her shoulders. "Bro, can we hit Bueno! before you take me to your place? I'm craving real American cuisine." Jazzy licked her lips at the thought of the fatty, oil-slathered cheeseburger the cook at Bueno! knew how to make to perfection. It was none of that poached egg over avocado toast bullshit her roommate Harmonique made every damn morning.

"I send you off to the place of your dreams, and all I get is it's cool when I ask how it is over there?" Priest furrowed his brows questioningly as he gripped the steering wheel.

She shook her head, brushing the matter off. "I mean, that's what it is: cool," she muttered as she poured all her attention into her phone, scrolling through social media.

Priest glanced over at Jazzlyn, noticing that she was wearing her signature mean mug, the one he used to make her practice whenever she came home and told him about the bullies she had to face at school. It was around the same time he cut some jagged bangs in her hair. It stuck with her and made her look unapproachable, the way she liked things to be.

"Sounds like I should be worried," Priest eased out before averting his eyes back onto the road.

Jazzlyn locked her phone shut and let out a huff of air. "Priest, I've only been in the car for five minutes, and you're already killing the vibe. Can we just not argue about this and enjoy the fact that your gorgeous sister is back in New York to apply pressure?" She smirked.

Priest chuckled before nodding his head. "You got it. After I get you settled in?—"

" My penthouse ," she let out, interjecting Priest with her quick correction.

Priest shook his head with a light laugh. "Whatever helps you sleep better at night, scrub."

She hit him in the chest with a laugh. "You're the scrub. Always grumpy ‘cause you get no play. It's hard being ugly, ain't it?" She pouted sympathetically while eyeing him.

"Stay in a child's place. You don't know what I have going on." Priest side-eyed her jokingly.

"Mhm," Jazzlyn hummed. "You just make sure you don't catch nothing and start your lineage with some bum like your mama," she scoffed at the thought of her mother.

Priest sighed. Everything with her always traced back to Sylvia. It never failed. "C'mon, let's not do this right now." He put her rant to rest before she could even start. Priest simply didn't have the energy to deal with it, especially after he spent so much time with Britain, and she had been able to replenish him with positivity and joy during their time together.

Jazzlyn rolled her eyes once more. Her hand balled up in a fist as she rested her head upon it, full of attitude. "There you go, always protecting her. She's not even here. No need to kiss her ass for any pitied love she failed to give us while we were kids," Jazzy slyly let out. Jazzy never bit her tongue to spare anyone, not even Priest. "She doesn't love you, Priest. She doesn't love me. She doesn't love anyone. She’s only keeping you around because you’re accessible to be her ATM at the moment since she doesn't have the education or work ethic to support herself or her husband who she so happens to play lap dog to."

This was expected of Jazzy. Priest wished she would tone it down a bit, but these were her feelings. Who was he to tell her how to feel?

Seeing that Priest wasn't going to join in on her rant or tell her to put it to an end once more, Jazzy continued. "She's nothing, was nothing, still nothing, and forever will be nothing." She screwed up her face in disgust at the thought of Sylvia.

"She's your mother," Priest reminded Jazzy.

A loud scoff erupted out of her. "I don't think I have the required means of income for her to be a mother to me. For the life of me, I don't understand why you give her everything." She shook her head in disbelief.

"So, she won't ask you," Priest responded.

Jazzy waved him off, finding his excuse invalid. "Not like I have much to give her."

Priest nodded as if what Jazzy had just said further proved his point. "Exactly. I give her everything so you won't have to feel like you have to do anything out of the ordinary to provide." Until he took his last breath on this earth, he was going to live knowing that neither Jazzy nor Sylvia had to want for anything. He was the provider; that was his responsibility.

Jazzy smacked her lips. "The last thing I'll ever do is do anything out of the ordinary for a bitch like Sylvia," Jazzy clarified. "Not like she bends over backward for us. I really hope you don't think those nights she was selling pussy she had our best interest at heart. She wanted the thrill of fucking at a cost. I give her that, though. She was definitely an expensive hoe." Jazzy chuckled bitterly.

"Alright, that's enough!" Priest declared in a harsh manner, causing her spine to rattle. "You're talking mad fucking reckless, and now I feel like you're disrespecting me! I will continue to be a son to her and give her whatever she so fucking pleases just like I do for you! At the end of the day, you're not her responsibility; you're mine, and she's not your responsibility; she's mine! Understood?"

All the might Jazzy once had diminished quickly. She knew she would never be a matchup against Priest. This moment reminded her of the time when Priest had to fill in for her mother at a parent-teacher conference after she skipped town for a few weeks. Jazzy was only nine, while Priest was a tender eighteen-year-old pushed straight into adulthood. At the meeting, Jazzy was impressed by the way Priest handled it. She thought his act was perfect enough to make her teacher believe she was in a stable household that provided the right amount of structure and discipline a nine-year-old needed. Jazzy was in for a rude awakening when she and Priest walked out of those school doors and what she once thought was an act from Priest turned out to be her reality.That day, Priest scolded her and disciplined her as if they were living in a stable household with structure and discipline. Even though Priest was chastising her and putting her on a hard punishment which she served with no backtalk, it was the most loved Jazzy ever felt. Priest showed that he cared. He was the first to ever do so. After that day, Jazzy looked at him as a father— her father.

Nodding her head, just as she did when she was nine years old in elementary school, Jazzy cleared the attitude from her throat."Understood."

Figuring that he put an end to Jazzy’s distasteful attitude, Priest opted out of attempting to speak to her. He felt bad for the way he spoke to her, but he needed to do something so she could understand that he wouldn't tolerate her being disrespectful. The car ride continued in a tension-filled silence. The only thing that could be heard within the vehicle was the friction of the tires.

Priest’s phone vibrated in his lap, catching his attention enough to split it between his phone screen and the road.

The notification confirmed the wire transfer he made, that had been processing for 24 hours. $12,000 USD successfully wired to Sylvia Barrette. Note: For nail salon, PKJ.

Sylvia had gotten her way once again.