Page 20 of The Love of Priest

"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.

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