Page 118 of The Love of Priest

"Next time you point a gun at me, you won't live to see another day," Priest warned as he used his free hand to lower Mirsad's arm so his gun was pointed in his face.

Mirsad put his gun down before stepping aside to let Priest in. Priest stuffed his weapon into his waistband as he entered and shut the door behind him. Glancing around, Priest concluded that from the look of it, Mirsad must’ve been far too paranoid to sleep in his bedroom the night before. He had blankets and pillows scattered all over the living room, along with some rolled up blunts and half eaten food.

"You don't know how to clean up after yourself?" Priest peered down at the mess Mirsad left behind in the living room.

Mirsad rolled his eyes as he plopped down on the cushioned sofa. "My bad. I don't have cleaning ladies stopping by like you do," he scoffed.

Priest nodded his head, agreeing with Mirsad. "You're right, and you're just a dirty-ass nigga. My cleaning lady ain't never seen a mess like this at my crib."

Mirsad tossed his head back against the couch in frustration. Priest always knew how to annoy him. "What you doing here anyway?" he asked. "I thought I was on my own."

"If it was up to me, I wouldn't be here, but your moms look out for you regardless of the fact you put her life in danger, so I'm here," Priest shrugged while claiming a seat on the loveseat opposite Mirsad.

Mirsad scoffed. "Is this supposed to be the part where I thank you?" Priest hated the fact that Mirsad was so ungrateful, but for the sake of Nia, he decided to not punish Mirsad too much at the moment. Mirsad wouldn't be acting this way a few weeks from now.

He shook his head in response to Mirsad. "Nah, Nia has thanked me enough," he eased out. "Go get ready. You're coming with me."

"Where?" Mirsad asked with his face screwed up.

"Doesn't matter. You're better off coming with me than sitting in this place paranoid as hell." He chuckled in amusement at the look of paranoia that flashed across Mirsad's face at any sudden sound that was made outside of the apartment.

Not wanting to admit that Priest was right, Mirsad simply got up from his spot on the couch and began making his way further into the apartment to get ready. "Aye, Mirsad!" Priest called after him.

"What's up?" Mirsad replied.

"Every man for himself if them niggas bust in here," Priest taunted while pointing at the gun Mirsad left behind on the coffee table instead of taking it with him.

As much as Mirsad didn't want to find Priest funny, he ended up convulsing into laughter while shaking his head. He returned to the coffee table, grabbing the gun for safety purposes. Mirsad finally went to get ready, leaving Priest alone in the living room.

Glancing around once more, Priest just didn't have the stomach to sit so close to a mess. Rising from his seat, Priest grabbed the half-eaten food, tossing it in the trash before collecting the scattered cups, snack wrappers, and balled up napkins from the floor. Once everything was disposed of, he folded the blankets, stacking them on top of each other, along with the bedroom pillows.

After practically an hour of Priest shouting for him to hurry the fuck up, Mirsad strolled out, dressed and ready to go."Thanks for cleaning up the mess." Mirsad gestured around the living room before tucking his gun into his waistband.

Priest rose from his seat. "Isn't the first time I did that," Priest scoffed as they exited the apartment, Mirsad locking up behind them.

Mirsad decided not to give Priest a hard time this go around. Surprisingly, Priest was playing nice today. They both galloped down the steps before making it outside to the parking lot. Priest unlocked the doors to his Bentayga, allowing both he and Mirsad to slide into the plush seats.

"I got some advice the other night about how I should handle you," Priest spoke, referring to his brief conversation he shared with Britain regarding Mirsad's behavior.

"Why I always gotta be handled?" Mirsad furrowed his brows. "I'm no fucking animal."

"You act like one." Priest shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly.

Mirsad rolled his eyes. "You know you don't have to do any of this. I'll just tell my mom you came through and I'm safe. I don't need you holding nothing over my head." He immediately grew defensive with a mean mug on his face.

Mirsad was really a mini-Priest that got dumbed down by today's society and his generation. He wanted the flashy things in life: the cars, the jewelry, the women. He lacked purpose. Back in Priest’s younger years, every nigga on a block had a reason for their hunger and motivation. Mirsad was just doing it for the status. There was no doubt that if he adhered by the rules, Priest would have gotten him anything he wanted. Priest was just that generous. However, the more Mirsad wanted to be out in the streets doing crazy shit, the more Priest was willing to let him suffer, whether it be with jail time or some unfortunate circumstance. Mirsad just needed a wakeup call.

"I don't gripe because I hate you or I don't give a fuck about you. I do it because all the shit you're doing now, I been there and done that. I tell you all the time, ‘Sad, this is not a way to live?—"

Mirsad interjected Priest's lecture with a smack of his lips. "Miss me with that. Look at you now: living. You're pushing a fucking Bentley Bentayga. Your jewelry alone is worth more than everyone in my building’s rent. You live in a fucking penthouse. You have drivers, chefs, and security fucking detail like you're the president or some shit. Don't say it's not a way to live when you're clearly living off it. That's you being hypocritical," Mirsad spat.

Priest simply chuckled with a shake of his head. Mirsad just couldn't see past the materialistic shit. "It's crazy because I would give all that shit up in a heartbeat," Priest shrugged.

Mirsad scoffed. "Now you're just talking out your ass, man." He waved Priest off.

"Mirsad, I'm facing a life sentence. That shit haunts me every living second of the day. I did what I did ‘cause I had to, not because I wanted to. I was raising myself and a kid at fourteen. I had to provide. Yeah, I have all this shit now, but that doesn't take away from the fact that I'm just as much of a fuck up as Leonard or any other nigga locked up for trapping drugs," Priest vented in hopes that Mirsad would understand. "Even if you sprinkle glitter on shit, it's still shit, and that's what you're not understanding. I want fucking better for you, yo. I do this shit so anyone who's family to me won't have to. Your back ain't against the wall like mine was. Go back to school and live life before that shit gets taken from you."

This was nothing Mirsad hadn't heard before, but it was a bit different coming from someone at the status he wanted to be at. For the first time in what seemed like forever, Mirsad had no response or rebuttal. He kept quiet, his eyes gazing out of the window while Priest continued to drive.

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