Page 56 of The Love of Priest

"I can deal with you being confused, but as for quitting, you can dead that." Priest shook his head as he addressed the person on the other end of the phone call.

Britain didn't want to invade with her presence, so she just hung behind, taking a seat not too far away. Priest could feel her presence, but that didn't put an end to his phone conversation.

Britain eyed him as he let out a heavy sigh before he downed the rest of his drink. "New York has nothing for you out here. You with the best of the best out in Paris," Priest continued trying to prevent his little sister from making an irrational decision. "Groan all you want, Jaz. I'm not changing my mind." Priest shook his head.

"There's so many other places in the world that have a fashion scene. We got L.A., Atlanta, Miami. Why you so hell-bent on New York?" he scoffed at his little sister.

Britain could hear the exchange of words get louder on Jazzy's part. However, Britain couldn’t make out what she was saying since Priest had the phone pressed against his ear. Britain found the way he spoke to his sister like he was the authoritative figure amusing. From this present interaction, Britain could tell that Priest would eventually be giving in and letting Jazzy have her way. Britain was the same way with her younger brother, Brixton, and younger sister, Brea.

Priest let out a huff of air laced with full annoyance. "Jaz, what part ofyou can't be with me right nowdon't you understand?" Priest asked her the rhetorical question.

He listened to his sister's elaborate response, rolling his eyes occasionally since she did hit on a few good points to strengthen her reason behind coming back home to New York temporarily. Priest smacked his lips before finally giving in to Jazzy.

"Just get to the ramp on time. Don't expect to stay out here for long either. After the holidays, it's a wrap for you out here," he gave her a fair warning. "Love you too, Jazzy-Fae," he sighed before they ended the phone call.

Britain smiled at the love he had for his little sister. Priest seemed to have so much love in his heart to give, but he lacked people to give it to. The ones closest to him received love in overflowing amounts. It was obvious that no one received the same amount of love that Jazzy received from him.

"You ready to go?" Britain spoke up, catching Priest's attention.

Turning around to face her, Priest nodded as he slid his device in the pocket of his all-black jeans. He looked irresistible in his blue and white Balenciaga shirt that was stamped with the brand name along the wingspan of his back. He had laced himself with platinum and diamond-studded jewelry, his raging bull piece catching Britain's attention first. His wrist was iced out in a platinum and diamond drenched Cuban link that matched the ice around his neck.

"Yeah, sorry about that," he apologized for his impromptu phone call from his little sister. "You look gorgeous, just as I expected, but you don’t need those." He shook his head while pointing to the strappy heels she had on.

Britain looked down at her feet and then back up at him. “Thank you, but I just thought I should?—”

Before she could even finish her statement, he had already crouched down and begun undoing the straps of her heels. Once he unfastened the heels, he aided her out of them. “These would be more comfortable,” he advised Britain as he maneuvered through the home toward the sliding door that led to the beach. He grabbed the Tory Burch sandals that Britain slipped off before she made her way to the pool earlier in the evening. Returning with the sandals, he sat them down before Britain so she could step into them. Britain thanked him for his assistance, which he assured her was nothing.

"Let's get out of here," he suggested, and Britain agreed. With their hands fused together, they exited the home. With his help, Britain got into the vehicle. Priest followed suit, getting in himself.

"You alright?" Britain asked Priest. "You seem distant."

With their hands still laced together, Priest used the other to drive. He took his eyes off the road momentarily so he could glance at Britain. He was shocked that she was even able to notice the shift in his demeanor.

"I seem distant?" Priest restated her words, this time in a questioning manner, surprised that she was able to pick up on it.

Britain nodded her head. "Yeah. Usually, you'll be sparking conversation or clowning me about something," she jested as his grip on her hand faltered and went to her left thigh instead.

Priest let out a chuckle, trying not to damper the mood with his worries. "My sister Jazzlyn is coming in from Paris once we get back."

"Ouch, you're worried about balancing Jazzlyn, Paris, London, Britain, andGioia," she winced out teasingly, causing a laugh to erupt out of him.

"That too." He nodded, still in laughter at how lighthearted she was. "But I'm more worried about keeping her and my mom away from each other. Unlike me, Jazzy believes in all that vengeance shit you were talking about. For a lack of better words, she hates her."

Jazzlyn, who was just as much of a ferocious female as Sylvia, always spoke her mind, despite whether her words pleased people or not. Jazzlyn had been calling her mother out on her bullshit since the age of nine. She got slapped around a few times for it, but that only made her list of grievances longer. As much as Priest tried to diffuse the constant animosity between his little sister and mother, it always went left. Jazzlyn always felt like Priest was protecting the woman that did so much harm in their lives, and that didn't sit well with her. This was one of the main reasons why Priest kept Jazzlyn far, far away. It was less stress on him.

Britain glanced at him. Although she wasn't going to verbally say that she believed Jazzlyn had every right to feel the way she felt, she knew her face told it all to Priest. "A’ight, I know that look." Priest shook his head with a short chortle.

"What look?" Britain raised a questioning brow.

"The one you just did. The “I see no problem” look." He pointed to her face.

A short laugh filtered out of Britain. "Okay, well, I don’t blame her. You guys grew up together, but her trauma is different from yours. The way she copes with it in regard to your mother is warranted. You can’t really try to force your beliefs of being nice to your mother onto her," she stated her opinion.

“I’m not trying to force her. It’s more like saving her from bad karma. If I can forgive my mother and coexist, so can she.” Priest shook his head, remaining stubborn.

This caused Britain to screw her face up in disdain. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you can’t tell her when she needs to forgive her mother. That sounds controlling and unfair. Why do men always think they can do shit like that?”

Priest let out a groan. "Are we seriously gonna get into this feminist shit?"

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