Page 50 of The Love of Priest

Although Priest had been nothing but open with Britain, he didn't want her to get involved in things that could affect her way of life. Once everyone caught wind of her, Priest knew they would try to concoct some wicked theory of how she was wrapped up in his shit.

"Keep telling me your story." Britain leaned in closer to him for a kiss. Priest blew the smoke into her mouth, and she inhaled. He eyed her as she blew the smoke out with an accomplished smile. Smoking wasn't Britain's thing, but Priest made it look so relaxing and zen that she couldn't help but want to indulge in it. Priest knew his influence on Britain, which was why he wasn't going to allow her to get too carried away. The last thing he wanted was for her to begin using marijuana as a crutch for every little inconvenience in her life just as he was. It was definitely a stress reliever, but sometimes the drug tapped into his brain and sparked some depression.

Priest licked his lips while putting out the blunt. "You really want to listen to that when we're a door away from the beach?" He raised a brow at Britain.

She nodded her head, clarifying that was what interested her at the moment. She got out of the bed, scurrying over to her purse. Priest watched as she extracted her journal he had grown familiar with. It had been a while since he had seen it. Britain was strict about anyone touching it, and she kept it close. He knew throughout the pages of the bonded book, there were hundreds of scattered points from different people’s stories. Britain had taken the time to number the pages manually, color code them, and create an ongoing table of contents. Flipping through the pages sporadically, Britain reached the chilling portion where she and Priest left off.

She took a deep breath before looking up from the journal. "We left off at?—"

"Jazzy, when I found out she was being molested," Priest recalled emptily. Each word made Britain feel as if she were being stoned. "I didn't really know what to do or who to tell. I put her to bed after I cleaned her up. That night, I remember just sitting up the entire night. I was fucked up. When my mom had my little sister, I promised myself to be her father ‘cause I knew dude was barely half a man, but my mom seemed to be head over heels in love with him. Jazzy getting hurt fucked me up. I was already an angry kid, but once Jazzy got brought into the mix, my anger channeled into rage. The next morning was a weekend I think, and I remember Jazzy asking me was I mad at her ‘cause she wet the bed. I didn't want to expose her to her harsh reality and tell her the true reason I was upset, so I told her no. I never opened up about this to anyone. It was always me and Jazzy's secret."

It was evident that Priest carried a lot of regret, and it was sprawled all over his face. His actions as a young adolescent were something he was ashamed of. He wished he would have handled things sooner—right then and there even.

"J'Ru's mother agreed to take Jazzy in along with me. Although she and J'Ru were nothing but welcoming, I couldn't help but feel like me and my sister were a burden. We were two extra mouths to feed and provide for, and it just didn't sit right with me. I ended up putting my pride aside to reach out to my mother, hoping she could spare a little something for the inconvenience me and Jazzy were to J'Ru's household." An empty chuckle aired out of Priest as he shook his head. Britain looked up from her journal and gazed at Priest. His bottom lip was tucked between his teeth, and he ran his fingers through his tamed beard. "She told me she ain't have shit for me and Jazzy. We were on our own until further notice. She also said I should make use of being Leonard Justice's only son." Priest shrugged his shoulders.

"I was only fourteen and had the weight of the world on my shoulders. From then on, Jazzy became my priority, and I had to do whatever to not only make sure I was straight, but my little sister too. I counted the weeks. She left us for 22 whole weeks, almost six months. No phone calls, not even checking up on us by word of mouth. I knew Sylvia could abandon me— she'd done it before— but Jazzy, who she claimed was her pride and joy… for her to just leave Jazzy was a slap to the face. Within those 22 weeks, I made sure to get it by any means necessary. I took her advice and made use of the fact that I was Leonard’s son. The streets welcomed me with ease, and I started hustling. That wasn't the rise of who I am today. I wasn't moving shit, and I was getting played by niggas who always wanted credit for putting me on. I was only fourteen, not cut enough to be on the block alongside grown-ass men, but I did it anyways. Out of respect and gratitude, I always made sure to cut J'Ru's mother off top. She got half of everything I made. She never agreed with what I did and made sure to warn me that she wouldn't tolerate me influencing J'Ru to do the same, but she understood. She saw the fire within me, nurtured my sister and I as her own, and always made sure to tell me there was way more out there than the streets of New York."

"After five months of putting a dent on J'Ru's couch, Sylvia hooked me and Jazzy back in with her lies. Being as young as I was and only craving love and stability, I fell for all her shit just as easy as she broke her promises. She left Jazzy devastated a lot of the time, but me on the other hand, I was used to the shit. She found out I was selling drugs. Even though I really had no intentions of getting caught, the little boy in me wanted a look of disappointment from her. I wanted her to yell at me, pull on my ear, just do something to show she cared. She didn't. She celebrated. She said it was about time I started pulling some weight. I had and still have no hopes of ever mending my relationship with my mother. I could forgive her for the shit she put me through, but I could never forgive her for the shit she caused Jazzy to go through."

Priest had come to terms with the fact that he and Sylvia would never have a normal mother and son relationship. She was fucked up from her own childhood and young pregnancy with him. It didn't justify her being a horrible mother, but that was what gave Priest peace. There was nothing he could have done or could do at the moment to make her more of a mother. That was something she would have to take up with God on her own.

"Why do you give her the world then?" Britain asked, not understanding Priest's logic. It was so backward. Sylvia didn’t deserve a relationship or access to Priest. Leonard wasn’t the only one Priest believed should’ve been punished. She had done the unspeakable to him and Jazzy; yet he showered her with anything she asked for. Britain could recall Priest asking her if she could give the world to anyone, who it would be. With ease and without hesitation, Britain’s answer was her mother. Seven was the strongest woman Britain had ever known, and undoubtedly, she believed her mother deserved the world and then some. Priest answered the same way, telling Britain he would also give his mother the world, along with Jazzy. His childhood relationship with his mother didn't align with the fact that he believed she deserved the world. She was horrible, and she deserved nothing good from Priest.

Priest chuckled at the screwed up look on Britain's face. When she wasn't being vocally blunt, her face told it all. "Because, Gioia, sometimes you have to give the most undeserving people what they think they deserve. Contribute to their rise so each and every day they can regret ever treating you the way they did while they fall, slowly but surely."

In denial, Britain shook her head vigorously. Her mind was trying to process how Priest found his logic ethical and fair to himself. "So, you don't want the last laugh? Revenge? Nothing?" Her brows furrowed together as she tried her best to understand Priest's way of dealing with things.

Priest licked his lips before a convincing smile graced his face. "Vengeance is for the evil, Gioia. I'm not evil," he concluded with a shrug.

"You're Priest," she uttered, earning a nod of his head from him.

"Correct, and me being Priest, I do shit my own way."

Britain sighed. She knew she may have sounded a little crazy when she spoke on revenge, but for the life of her, she just couldn't understand why Priest was so damn nice to a woman who treated him and Jazzy horribly. Britain wouldn't even think twice about kissing a mother like Sylvia goodbye. "Where's Jazzy now?"

At the mention of his younger sister, Britain noticed a brightness spark through his usually dark orbs. His smile was much warmer and more inviting, which all was proof of how much he actually loved Jazzy.

"When she was eighteen, I told her to spin the globe," Priest chuckled lightly. "Ironically, it landed in Paris." He smirked, teasing Britain since he often heckled her by butchering her name and calling her Paris instead of Britain.

Britain shut her journal with a joking roll of her eyes. "Ha ha, very funny." Her words dripped in sarcasm. "But that was nice of you. The brotherly thing to do." She smirked at him.

Priest nodded. "I want the best for her, even if it doesn't involve me breathing down her neck all the time," he shrugged. "She's far more successful than I was or anyone I knew at nineteen. I'm glad I had the means to help her pursue her career and as stay far away from my mom as possible."

"I'm sure she gets home sick, Priest," Britain mentioned to him.

Priest shrugged. "She does, which is why she comes down from time to time. However, I'm more at ease when she's in Paris instead of here." Jazzy was truly Priest's world. He was willing to lay down his life for his little sister. She often begged to come back to New York, but when her mind was settled and homesick emotions weren't gnawing at her ankles, she understood why Priest wanted her away. New York was too corrupt and wild for his innocent little sister. Instead of watching her get chewed up and spit out, he preferred for her to live a life of bliss, one she chose.

"You're great," Britain complimented while wrapping her arms around him. "Like on a scale from cool to awesome, you've surpassed awesome."She lightened the mood with her playfulness.

Priest threw his head back in laughter. "Son, you're wild."

"Deadass," she mocked him, causing more laughter to pour from him.

"See, if I ain't know any better, I would think you was smacked instead of me." He shook his head with a light chuckle.

Britain shook her head. "Nope, this is what I call a natural high. Feed me enough sweets, and I could become a comedy special." He enjoyed her silly jokes and contagious laughter; it gave him a sense of light in his world, which was usually crowded with darkness.

He pressed his lips against hers. Britain could taste the weed he had just smoked, the smell and flavor embedded into his lips. Parting from the kiss, Britain's cheeks heated, and she looked away from him. Priest took a gentle hold of her face, steering her sight back into him. "No need to be shy about anything anymore," he assured her.

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