Page 19 of The Love of Priest

Retrieving Britain's remote from next to the lamp, he aimed it at the television, turning it on. Priest turned the channel to the news station that seemed to be running laps around him. Britain tried her best to focus her attention elsewhere, but once she heard his name on the news, her eyes were drawn to the television.

J'Ru, who was still on the line, heard the background noise of the television airing the news. "Yo, I thought you said this was handled."

"I did," Priest confirmed. "Somebody dropped the ball." Priest set his eyes on the news that was giving details on the merciless slayings of five police officers and a male who was deemed to be in witness protection for the trial that surrounded Priest. The details of the senseless act weren’t gruesome to Priest since it was exactly what he wanted, but he only wanted Tony dead, not the fucking cops who were babysitting him. Now six families were grieving as opposed to the one Priest didn’t give a fuck about after Tony crossed him.

"We need to figure this shit out now!" J'Ru stressed, unsure how they were going to wiggle out of the disaster they now had at hand.

Priest detached his eyes from the television that seemed to captivate all of Britain's attention. She was now feasting her eyes upon the countless photos of Priest that appeared on the screen while the anchor discussed how he could potentially be involved in the invasion of the safe house and the six murders that happened within it. Priest stared at her, hoping to get some sort of reaction. She didn't show signs of anything, not even fear.

"Look, meet me out in Harlem around ten in the morning," he instructed before ending the phone call with J'Ru.

Priest rose from Britain's couch, putting his phone back into his front pocket. When he came in, he had taken off his Nike hoodie, so he went ahead and put it back on. Britain was too focused on the television to even notice him doing so.

"I gotta head out." His baritone voice rattled her ears, causing her to shift her eyes from the television and onto him.She nodded her head, pursing her lips in a light smile.

"Meet me at the diner later today?" He peered down at her as she remained seated.

Britain shook her head. "Just meet me here."

"No longer want to be in public with me, huh?" Priest questioned her.

Britain glanced up at him, not understanding why he chose to assume rather than ask her why she was opposed to meeting at the diner. "You aren't some secret of mine. I could care less how people perceive me when I'm out with you," she let out truthfully.

Priest nodded his head in a satisfied manner. That was the sign he was looking for. "I'll stop by later.” He extended his hand to her, and she took it without any hesitation. Hand in hand, they made their way to the door. Priest opened the door to exit, but before he stepped outside, he and Britain shared a hug. Being wrapped in his arms made Britain feel invincible. He gave her a sense of security no man had ever given her before, not even Cameron. She and Priest shared goodbyes with a light kiss on the lips, which caused Britain’s smile to spread from ear to ear. Priest made his way to his car with the same prideful and confident gait she loved so much.

He is a man!

ChapterNine

After makingthe 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."

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