Page 9 of The Love of Priest

"I look out for you, bruh. That's it; that's all."

"I appreciate that, I do, but lay-up sometimes. I'm good, just reading the paper." Priest chuckled once his eyes landed on the column feature that was titled “Humans of New York.” His eyes flowed down to the byline where he could see who the piece was credited to. Britain Demings. He let out a chuckle as he thought back to the remark he made about her name. His chuckle seemed to string out a little longer when he remembered she had jabbed him with a remark about his name as well.

Like Britain explained, the piece was line by line quoted from the speaker. She added absolutely no commentary or elaboration on anything. It was their story, and she was just putting it out there. The 87-year-old man named Joseph Kirkland told Britain a detailed story about being born in the 30s and dealing with the hostile environment of living in a white man's world. He explained all the trials and adversities he had to overcome while growing up in the North where, though there really wasn't much slavery, there was still a ton of segregation. He alluded to how defeated he felt when his mother had to explain why he had to adhere to the Jim Crow laws that were widely implemented in the South but quickly spread up north. The man continued by telling Britain how confused he always managed to be while growing up.

He never knew where to fit in since he was fathered by a white man and birthed by a black woman. He was caught in the middle of the spectrum and didn't really know who and what to identify as. Of course, because he inherited half of his DNA from his African American mother, all the whites slurred at him and acted as if they were superior. On the other hand, the black community was hesitant to let him in since he was indeed half white. His father, Ross Kirkland, came from a long lineage of slave masters and plantation owners. His life decision to be with a colored woman was frowned upon by his family and brought a lifelong struggle for himself, his wife, and his son.

Priest was honestly drawn in by the piece. He enjoyed reading it and laughed at a few short anecdotes Mr. Kirkland shared with Britain.

Raising his eyes, he couldn't help but smile lightly at the portrait taken of Mr. Kirkland in front of his long-standing ice cream shop down in Crown Heights called Kirkland's Creamery. It was nice to see Mr. Kirkland had a happy ending.Britain's storytelling technique was very clever.

ChapterFive

The next day,Priest found himself in the driver's seat of his Range Rover rolling through his old stomping grounds. Thinking back, he couldn't believe that just a few years before, he had slowly begun to grow comfortable, lose hope, and feel stagnant. Now, he was the opposite. He no longer had to wake up in the wee hours of the morning to commit himself to a twelve-hour shift at Mansfield Landscaping. He no longer had to go back and forth with his landlord about having hot water during the frigid winters. He no longer had to get pocket checked by the Feds whenever he went up the street for groceries. He was living a whole new life, one he only used to dream of. As different as things were now, Priest never lost touch with where he came from. He paid respect, gave back, and helped. Priest could never imagine the day he turned his back on his home: Harlem.

As he stepped out of the Range, his Balenciaga sneakers made contact with the cement as he ran his hands down his jeans. Shutting and locking the car up, he looked up to the fifteen-floor building he used to reside in.

After a year of acknowledging his financial situation was more than healthy, Priest took it upon himself to buy out the old owners of the building. Since owning the building, Priest had brought it up to code and made sure it was equipped with functioning heat and proper air conditioning, running hot and cold water, better living quarters, and assisted rent. He wanted his residents to live well without having to worry about how they were going to come up with $1,000 or more for rent. All he asked for was a monthly payment of $650 and proof of steady income, and Priest was willing to help.

Most of the residents were single mothers, struggling to provide for their kids with low-end jobs, or veterans who were homeless once upon a time and had nowhere to go. Priest opened the doors up for them and helped them get better jobs so they could live better. His efforts didn't just stop there. Priest owned multiple businesses where his main goal was to hire the less fortunate. Since elevating his lifestyle, Priest had adopted a different outlook on life. He was able to see that the people who didn't have the funds, the housing, the food, the clothes, or the opportunity had way more drive and a much better work ethic than people who did.

He vowed that every business he opened and every building he owned and leased out was going to help the community in some way. The staff at his businesses and the tenants in his housing units would consist of single mothers, the less fortunate, and people who were trying to get out of the unfortunate lifestyle. Priest wouldn't have it any other way. He didn't take a single thing for granted, which was why he was so passionate about helping others. He really didn't know what curveball God could throw his way. He could be living well today and then be down tomorrow. All he knew was if there was someone like him willing to give him an opportunity or a safe place to stay, he would’ve been forever grateful.

Approaching the building, Priest greeted and smiled at tenants who were happy to see him. He tried his best to stop in as much as he possibly could. Whenever he stopped by, he was welcomed with open arms and love.

Upon entering, Priest was pleased by the look of the place. Everything was clean, the renovations were finished, and the building looked to be in tip top shape. The first floor of the building contained the leasing office area, and in the back, there was a day care service Priest offered to the parents who really didn't have a reliable place to leave their children while they went to work. The day care was safe for children, convenient for the tenants, and the staff was just one big, happy family.

"Oh, you're doing pop ups now?" Priest chuckled at the little funny face his cousin, Nia, was making at him.Nia was the building manager. Priest trusted her for the job, and, with her situation not being too different from a lot of the tenants, Priest knew she would have the same passion and drive he had when it came to his mission. Nia managed the entire building with a staff of three other women underneath her authority. She had started off as a resident of the building, and she still lived in the same unit she occupied before Priest bought and renovated the place. Her loyalty was unmatched, and he was just glad to give his cousin the chance to show that she was more than her past drug addiction.

"Nah, it ain't like that. I'm actually coming through before I stop to see a friend. I came to see how well you’re running the place." Priest greeted her with a hug while explaining the reason why he didn't shoot a call out first.

Nia nodded her head in understanding. "Everything is going well, as always. Unit 6A had their rent a little late, but I waived the late fee. You can just take it out of my pay," Nia explained while handing Priest the stack of money orders she had accumulated since the beginning of the month.

Priest took the money orders from her hand and fanned his hand through them. "All 165 are there, Mr. Justice." Nia smirked teasingly. She knew he would count through them at least twice to make sure the accounting part of the businesses was okay before he went off to the bank to cash them. Since Priest took the responsibility of paying a base portion of all the residents’ utilities, he had to make sure the same money he was spending was being put back in so he would be able to continue to offer these perks and services to the tenants.

"Don't worry about that fee on your pay. You’re good," Priest assured her. "I can't thank you enough." Nia waved him off.

"I should be saying that to you. Only the Lord knows where I would be without you." Nia was extremely appreciative of her little cousin Priest. He was that safe haven and help she prayed for when she no longer knew what direction to take her and her son's lives.

"You did this on your own, Nia. I just gave you the opportunity. You always had it in you,” Priest assured her with a smile.

Nia leaned in and hugged him once more. "Thanks, Priest. God has blessed you with so much, and I just hope and pray that He continues to do so."

"I appreciate that. I'm gonna head out so I can make it to the bank before it closes. Thanks, Nia." He gave her a hug goodbye.

Nia waved him off. "It's nothing, Priest."

After sharing a few words and Priest promising to stop by to pick up a plate of the dinner Nia was cooking, he was on his way out to visit an old friend. As always, the traffic was fucking haywire, but Priest listened to music to keep his road rage to a minimum. When he finally arrived, he parked his car in front of the home and got out. His presence drew a lot of eyes and caused the activity on the block to slow down and attention to gravitate toward him.

Priest's come-up story was one a lot of people never understood. One second, he was a regular guy, and the next, he was riding in foreign cars and taking international trips. No one really knew how to connect the dots to his lifestyle, but they knew better than to ask. They wondered how he did it. What was his come up and hustle?

"Boy, you sure the news ain't following you?!" Remy, who was smoking a blunt on his porch, asked Priest with a chuckle.

Priest waved him off with laughter of his own. "Nah. You know I know how to flee and elude." Priest walked up the steps of the porch with his hand extended in front of him, initiating a greeting. Remy dapped Priest up, and they shared a hug.

"What got you back on this side? Don't you live in the Hamptons or some shit?" Remy raised a curious brow at Priest. Priest cracked yet another laugh.

"Now, if I told you where I lay my head, would that be keeping a low profile like you always told me to?" His fingers ran through his beard as he watched Remy think about contradicting himself.

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