Page 64 of The Love of Priest

"Stay in a child's place. You don't know what I have going on." Priest side-eyed her jokingly.

"Mhm," Jazzlyn hummed. "You just make sure you don't catch nothing and start your lineage with some bum like your mama," she scoffed at the thought of her mother.

Priest sighed. Everything with her always traced back to Sylvia. It never failed. "C'mon, let's not do this right now." He put her rant to rest before she could even start. Priest simply didn't have the energy to deal with it, especially after he spent so much time with Britain, and she had been able to replenish him with positivity and joy during their time together.

Jazzlyn rolled her eyes once more. Her hand balled up in a fist as she rested her head upon it, full of attitude. "There you go, always protecting her. She's not even here. No need to kiss her ass for any pitied love she failed to give us while we were kids," Jazzy slyly let out. Jazzy never bit her tongue to spare anyone, not even Priest. "She doesn't love you, Priest. She doesn't love me. She doesn't love anyone. She’s only keeping you around because you’re accessible to be her ATM at the moment since she doesn't have the education or work ethic to support herself or her husband who she so happens to play lap dog to."

This was expected of Jazzy. Priest wished she would tone it down a bit, but these were her feelings. Who was he to tell her how to feel?

Seeing that Priest wasn't going to join in on her rant or tell her to put it to an end once more, Jazzy continued. "She's nothing, was nothing, still nothing, and forever will be nothing." She screwed up her face in disgust at the thought of Sylvia.

"She's your mother," Priest reminded Jazzy.

A loud scoff erupted out of her. "I don't think I have the required means of income for her to be a mother to me. For the life of me, I don't understand why you give her everything." She shook her head in disbelief.

"So, she won't ask you," Priest responded.

Jazzy waved him off, finding his excuse invalid. "Not like I have much to give her."

Priest nodded as if what Jazzy had just said further proved his point. "Exactly. I give her everything so you won't have to feel like you have to do anything out of the ordinary to provide." Until he took his last breath on this earth, he was going to live knowing that neither Jazzy nor Sylvia had to want for anything. He was the provider; that was his responsibility.

Jazzy smacked her lips. "The last thing I'll ever do is do anything out of the ordinary for a bitch like Sylvia," Jazzy clarified. "Not like she bends over backward for us. I really hope you don't think those nights she was selling pussy she had our best interest at heart. She wanted the thrill of fucking at a cost. I give her that, though. She was definitely an expensive hoe." Jazzy chuckled bitterly.

"Alright, that's enough!" Priest declared in a harsh manner, causing her spine to rattle. "You're talking mad fucking reckless, and now I feel like you're disrespecting me! I will continue to be a son to her and give her whatever she so fucking pleases just like I do for you! At the end of the day, you're not her responsibility; you're mine, and she's not your responsibility; she's mine! Understood?"

All the might Jazzy once had diminished quickly. She knew she would never be a matchup against Priest. This moment reminded her of the time when Priest had to fill in for her mother at a parent-teacher conference after she skipped town for a few weeks. Jazzy was only nine, while Priest was a tender eighteen-year-old pushed straight into adulthood. At the meeting, Jazzy was impressed by the way Priest handled it. She thought his act was perfect enough to make her teacher believe she was in a stable household that provided the right amount of structure and discipline a nine-year-old needed. Jazzy was in for a rude awakening when she and Priest walked out of those school doors and what she once thought was an act from Priest turned out to be her reality.That day, Priest scolded her and disciplined her as if they were living in a stable household with structure and discipline. Even though Priest was chastising her and putting her on a hard punishment which she served with no backtalk, it was the most loved Jazzy ever felt. Priest showed that he cared. He was the first to ever do so. After that day, Jazzy looked at him as a father— her father.

Nodding her head, just as she did when she was nine years old in elementary school, Jazzy cleared the attitude from her throat."Understood."

Figuring that he put an end to Jazzy’s distasteful attitude, Priest opted out of attempting to speak to her. He felt bad for the way he spoke to her, but he needed to do something so she could understand that he wouldn't tolerate her being disrespectful. The car ride continued in a tension-filled silence. The only thing that could be heard within the vehicle was the friction of the tires.

Priest’s phone vibrated in his lap, catching his attention enough to split it between his phone screen and the road.

The notification confirmed the wire transfer he made, that had been processing for 24 hours. $12,000 USD successfully wired to Sylvia Barrette. Note:For nail salon, PKJ.

Sylvia had gotten her way once again.

ChapterNineteen

Priest applieda subtle knock on the door. Darkness shrouded the area outside, with only streetlights decorating the ends of each corner. Glancing down at his watch, Priest was slightly alarmed at the fact that he had left the comfort of his own home, but he felt compelled to do so. His mind just couldn't stop working in overdrive, no matter how many times he tried to sleep.

The door opened, and Britain peeked through the slight opening. Her hair was wrapped in her silk hair bonnet, and she was clothed in a pair of shorts and an oversized wife beater that draped along her bare breast. At the sight of Priest, Britain's brows furrowed. She wasn't expecting him to pop up at her front door at two in the morning.

Running her orbs over him, she noticed he was dressed in a pair of gray sweats, a white tee that peaked through his jacket and his Nike socks and slides. "These are booty call hours, sir." A yawn slipped out as she stepped aside to let him in.

A light chortle sounded from him. "My bad. I just knew you'd have all the answers," he admitted as he ridded himself of his hoodie along with his slides.

"Pertaining to?" Britain asked as she led the way back to her bedroom. They navigated through the dark apartment just fine before they arrived at the bedroom. Britain flicked the light on, now aware that Priest wasn't looking forward to sleeping. She was definitely shocked to see him. Jazzy was in town, and she thought he would be far too busy with her and his trial to stop by. She had prepared herself for fewer phone calls and texts and sporadic dates with him.

As she got comfortable in the bed, Priest stood at the end of it just eying her. Staring at his thick furrowed brows and scowl, she could tell that he was stressed out about something, but she had no clue what it could be.

Lifting the duvet on the left side, Britain tapped the empty side of the bed, signaling him to join her. Priest shuffled over with his alluring gait that caused butterflies to accumulate in Britain's stomach.

"What's the matter?" she questioned him once more as he now lay beside her. There was a clear distance between the two as they lay on their backs letting the white ceiling be the only thing in their range of sight.

Priest said nothing. He wasn't sure how to put his thoughts into words. His mind was cluttered with all types of things, good and bad. His thoughts ranged from joyous memories with Jazzy and J'Ru to flashes of hatred and anger toward different people who came in and out of his life throughout the years. Priest knew staying up until the wee hours of the morning the night before trial wasn't a good idea, but he just couldn't help it.

He was about to commit himself to an hours-long discussion about his past that could determine his future if he was allowed to have one. "Can't sleep," Priest muttered as he tucked his arm behind his head while the other folded into Britain's. Slowly, he caressed her knuckles with the pad of his thumb, before bringing her hand up to his lips for a kiss.

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