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Chapter Four

Priest’s eyes scanned the front page of The New York Times . A smug expression was smeared on his face at the leading headline.

PRIEST JUSTICE BACK FOR MORE!

"They're running out of headlines. Look at this shit." Priest tossed the newspaper in front of J'Ru so he could look for himself.

J'Ru read the headline with a chuckle. "I mean, you weren't really giving them much to work with." He shrugged.

"I just need this shit to be over with already," Priest sighed as he lit his blunt. He and J'Ru were currently sitting at a small, secluded table in the back of a well-established Italian restaurant they had both opened called La Lealtà. The name generated from a characteristic both J'Ru and Priest took pride in loyalty. At the moment, the restaurant was full of patrons enjoying the fine cuisine derived from the culture of Italy made by head chef, Sofia Serron.

J'Ru let out a breath before slightly leaning back into his seat. "I did that digging on that situation you had me check out for you."

"Word?" Priest raised a brow. "What you got?"

J'Ru glanced around to make sure no one was within ear shot. "Tony. They got him in a safe house out in Rochester. Feds got the place surrounded with dudes. Ain't shit coming in or out without bypassing them first. Tony really outdid himself with this one." J'Ru eased a chuckle out before taking a sip of his aged wine.

Priest clasped his hands together. Thoughts of Tony flashed in his mind. He felt his body get hot. Tony was once a brother. Priest and J'Ru were once wary about letting some random in on their brotherhood, but Tony seemed to prove his loyalty enough. After three years of grinding from the bottom up, Priest and J'Ru finally accepted him. They gave him a seat at the table and allowed Tony to create his own table so his family and people could eat.

Loyalty .

Priest and J'Ru were the definition of loyalty. Looking out for each other was a priority. Sadly, they had made the mistake of letting a rat in. Luckily, they caught it before Tony could get anything else out of them.

Everything stopped on Tony's end. He wasn't gonna move shit or make shit if J'Ru and Priest had a say in it. He betrayed them, stabbed them in the back as if they hadn't bent over backward and treated him like family. Priest and J'Ru allowed him into their homes, introduced him to family, and gave him access, a decision they regretted every living second since discovering Tony’s betrayal.

Ever since weeding out Tony, Priest and J'Ru had been keeping a close eye on their circle. Another Tony mishap wasn't something they were willing to deal with. Priest wanted Tony's head. Word spread quickly through the streets, even though Priest and J'Ru were moving in silence. Tony's guilt ripped through him. He turned his back and was now getting fucked by the Feds. The two-timing move was something Tony knew came with repercussions. To save his own ass, he slaved to become an informant. He was feeding the Feds anything for safety and protection from Priest's wrath. He looked cheesy, but Priest and J'Ru expected it. Tony was just a cheesy-ass nigga.

"You got the pin?" Priest hiked one of his bushy brows up as his jaw remained clenched.

J'Ru nodded, reaching into the inner pocket of his pea coat and extracting a piece of paper. He slid it over to Priest who read the address written across it. "I know how much you like handling shit yourself, but you cannot be in the vicinity of that fucking place Priest. I'm dead serious," J'Ru gritted out to Priest in hopes Priest would understand his detailed orders.

Priest raised his hand, signaling J'Ru to lay-up. "I'm gonna handle it. His actions are tying me up into a lot of fuck shit with the law. Ain't no way he's making it to that fucking courtroom." Priest was sure the prosecutor wouldn't be fighting so weak and measly when the trial resumed. His last arguments seemed to barely stand a chance against Priest's defense. Priest had settled on the fact that the last court date was just a ploy to make him feel confident and less concerned. The Feds had Tony singing like a canary bird. Priest was positive Tony would be used as a pawn to prosecute him. Most likely, he would be testifying against him.Priest wasn't gonna let that fly.

"I don't want you having no parts," J'Ru persistently warned him. Priest nodded his head.

"Gimme your word," J'Ru, still skeptical because of his friend's current demeanor, requested of Priest.

Priest smirked before taking a sip of drink. "You've got my word," he promised J'Ru while sitting his glass down on the crisp white tablecloth.

They held eye contact with each other for a moment to seal the promise. J'Ru nodded, taking his word confidently. "Who you getting on this move?" J'Ru asked him.

Thinking of how badly he wanted Tony mangled, a light smile etched his face. "Some things are better left unsaid my brother."

J'Ru chuckled while lifting his glass. He conducted a toast with Priest. "Lealtá," they both said in unison, signifying their loyalty to each other.

J'Ru was a brother. He stayed down then, and he was staying down now. J'Ru never asked for a thing, and he never got greedy or ungrateful. What was given was appreciated, but he made sure he worked for it. He was a man who took great pride in earning everything he got, and Priest respected him so much for it. Priest would give J'Ru the shirt off his back and vice versa. No matter how much money, recognition, or scandals Priest attained, he could always depend on J'Ru to be there right beside him. Priest was grateful.

Slightly reaching over the table, Priest grabbed ahold of the paper. He disregarded his face plastered on the front page and flipped it over so he could scan the bottom half of the paper. "Nigga, fuck you looking for? Another story about you?" J'Ru chuckled.

Priest shook his head. "Nah. You ever heard of “Humans of New York?”" Like he said he would, Priest was looking to check the piece out. He couldn't help but wonder what story Britain had discovered now.

J'Ru shook his head. "Sound like some workers union or some shit." He shrugged, causing Priest to let out a hearty laugh.

He shook his head, indicating J'Ru was wrong. "I met a shorty at Kaymen's wedding. She runs this piece in The Times called “Humans of New York.”" He opened the paper, grazing his eyes over it.

"A bitch from The Times ?" J'Ru wasn't pleased by how much Priest’s interest was piqued at the mention of the woman he had met at the wedding they attended over the weekend. She worked for a high-profile news outlet. In J'Ru's opinion, Priest had no business chopping it up with this woman. She was a journalist who wouldn't think twice about putting some information out on Priest. "You sure you wanna go down that route?"

Priest lowered the newspaper so he could eye J'Ru. "What route? I can't be interested in the paper?"

J'Ru shrugged. "To me, you sound more interested in her . Just watch out. She does work for The New York Times ."

Priest brought the paper back up and continued scanning for the “Humans of New York” piece. "How she pays her bills ain't none of my business. You’re acting like I'm in love with shorty. I'm just checking out her work." Priest chucked at J'Ru's concerns. He was used to him over-worrying and being overly analytical of everything. Priest was grateful for this when it came to business, but he didn’t want his personal life under J’Ru’s microscope. He was man enough to handle his own. He didn't need J'Ru to serve as his father.

J'Ru nodded his head. "Don't tell her nothing."

Priest waved his friend off. "She most likely knows everything now. I've been front paging for over a month now." Priest was shocked at the fact that Britain had no idea who he was and what he was being scrutinized for. He honestly thought the whole reason she was staring a hole into his side profile was because she was dying to ask him questions pertaining to the allegations that were being held against him. Priest didn't put a thing past anyone, especially a pretty face and a smile. For all he knew, Britain could’ve just been playing oblivious so she could circle in on The New York Times’ biggest prey: he himself, Priest Justice.

"Wait, so she didn't make the connection? Your face been everywhere, Priest! I ain't feeling that. I'm not even gonna lie." J'Ru shook his head with a questioning look.

"Nigga, you actin' like you my pops or something. Trust me. Ain't no female gone be able to double cross me." Priest was confident in the fact that he wasn't an open book. Britain's lack of knowledge of him was a red flag which was why he knew better than to even think of considering something more with her.

She was attractive, could keep up a good conversation, and she had her own grind. He admired that, and that was it. Everything Britain now knew was everything that was out in the media.

J'Ru nodded his head, believing his friend. Priest wasn't a dumb dude. He knew how to weed things out and shut them down, even if it seemed as though he was too late. J'Ru, however, never liked giving people the opportunity. One red flag was all it took, and it was the end of everything for him. Priest was more open minded and accepting, but he rarely slipped up.

"I look out for you, bruh. That's it; that's all."

"I appreciate that, I do, but lay-up sometimes. I'm good, just reading the paper." Priest chuckled once his eyes landed on the column feature that was titled “Humans of New York.” His eyes flowed down to the byline where he could see who the piece was credited to. Britain Demings. He let out a chuckle as he thought back to the remark he made about her name. His chuckle seemed to string out a little longer when he remembered she had jabbed him with a remark about his name as well.

Like Britain explained, the piece was line by line quoted from the speaker. She added absolutely no commentary or elaboration on anything. It was their story, and she was just putting it out there. The 87-year-old man named Joseph Kirkland told Britain a detailed story about being born in the 30s and dealing with the hostile environment of living in a white man's world. He explained all the trials and adversities he had to overcome while growing up in the North where, though there really wasn't much slavery, there was still a ton of segregation. He alluded to how defeated he felt when his mother had to explain why he had to adhere to the Jim Crow laws that were widely implemented in the South but quickly spread up north. The man continued by telling Britain how confused he always managed to be while growing up.

He never knew where to fit in since he was fathered by a white man and birthed by a black woman. He was caught in the middle of the spectrum and didn't really know who and what to identify as. Of course, because he inherited half of his DNA from his African American mother, all the whites slurred at him and acted as if they were superior. On the other hand, the black community was hesitant to let him in since he was indeed half white. His father, Ross Kirkland, came from a long lineage of slave masters and plantation owners. His life decision to be with a colored woman was frowned upon by his family and brought a lifelong struggle for himself, his wife, and his son.

Priest was honestly drawn in by the piece. He enjoyed reading it and laughed at a few short anecdotes Mr. Kirkland shared with Britain.

Raising his eyes, he couldn't help but smile lightly at the portrait taken of Mr. Kirkland in front of his long-standing ice cream shop down in Crown Heights called Kirkland's Creamery. It was nice to see Mr. Kirkland had a happy ending.Britain's storytelling technique was very clever.