Page 63 of The Love of Priest

"I'm not really fucking with moms for the way she came at my shorty at the event. Plus, Jaz coming in, so I gotta keep them far from each other," Priest explained.

J'Ru sighed, fully aware that Jazzlyn and Sylvia couldn't be in the same room with each other for a few minutes without them bickering with each other. Plus, from what he knew, Priest had yet to check her for her behavior toward Britain, so Sylvia was getting iced out hard right now. "Women driving you crazy, huh?"

"If only you knew." Priest shook his head. "I'll just send a car for moms at her spot. Do me a solid and ride with her so she doesn't do no stupid shit for those fucking cameras."

Dreading spending time with Sylvia, J'Ru let out a groan, causing Priest to laugh. "I would do it, but you know I need silence on the ride there. She gone get to chatting my fucking ear off," Priest said to J'Ru in hopes of convincing him.

"Heard’ju. Just be on your shit Monday. We tryna walk you out of there a free man without you headlining the papers for some dumb shit you decided to say," J'Ru teased. Their last time in court, Judge Amos had to call Priest out for his explicit language and how lightheartedly he was treating the situation.

Priest laughed, knowing it would be best for him to be far more serious this time around since the prosecutor was gunning to blame him for the invasion of Tony's safe house and murders of the watch officers and their testifying witness. "Listen, I'm gone keep it gangsta, nigga," Priest assured J'Ru.

"You do that. Stay safe," J'Ru said.

"You too." With that, the call ended at the perfect time as Priest pulled up to the ramp.

"Nice to see you, Mr. Justice." The security guard tipped his hat at Priest in a respectable manner.

Priest flashed him a polite smile before thanking him for allowing him access through the gates. Slowly, Priest accelerated his car until he was advised by one of the ramp operators he could go no further. Jazzy had texted him mid-air letting him know that she was due to land any minute. He beat her to the ramp by just a few minutes, allowing him to prop himself against the front of his car and watch as the aircraft landed gracefully.

After a moment of waiting, the door of the jet opened, and the ramp operator assisted Jazzy out. Setting his sights on his little sister caused his heart to swell. She was made for the glitzy lifestyle he believed; however, he had instilled in her a sense of humbleness and generosity as well. As she walked down the runway wearing her classic white Moncler coat and her Audermars Piguet watch clinging to her wrist, Priest couldn't deny how much she reminded him of himself.Standing at five-foot-eight, Jazzlyn was nothing short of gorgeous. She had the physique of a model with her striking long legs and mildly curvy frame. Her honey golden skin tone contrasted perfectly against her natural jet-black tresses that flowed gracefully down her back. Priest believed she was the perfect mixture of his mother and her father.

Like always, whenever they were greeting each other after their long timespans of being away from one another, Jazzy approached him with a left hand cupped around her mouth as if she was some professional beatboxer and began beatboxing awfully. "C'mon, PJ! Hit me with some fire shit," she attempted to get a freestyle out of him.

"Man, stop playing," Priest laughed, waving Jazzy off. Jazzy stale faced him. "Well, if you're ain’t about to spit some hot shit, allow me to." She smiled.

Priest couldn't help but laugh before cupping his hand over his mouth, continuing the beat she made by beatboxing. "Just hopped off a jet from Paris, wanna give my big bro a hug, but he smells like a pound of fucking cannabis, if we get pulled over ‘cause he got weight in the car, it ain't none of my damn business," she rhymed before getting hype over the fact that it came right off the top of her dome. "You can't say I ain't kill that!" She jumped up and down like an Energizer bunny.

Priest doubled over in laughter, finding her dried-up rhymes pitiful yet funny. "Man, that shit was fucking trash." He wiped the tears that began to accumulate in his eyes from his laughter.

Jazzy halted her excitement for what she thought was some pretty hot shit and hit her brother on the arm. "No, it wasn't. I'm your favorite rapper's favorite rapper." She flipped her bone straight hair over her shoulder.

Priest laughed before aiding her as she climbed in the car. "I missed your dumb ass," he admitted while popping the trunk so her bags could be packed into the vehicle.

Jazzy beamed her gorgeous smile. "I missed you too, PJ." She opened her arms for a hug, and he reached over the console of the car, granting her one. They locked each other tight in their arms. Growing up, they were all each other had, and now, as two adults, they kept the promise they made to each other that they would always be there for one another. Jazzy took the promise as literal as she could. She wanted to be present during Priest's trial, but he refused. He didn’t want to distract his little sister from her dreams. If only he knew that the more he kept her away, the more distracted she was.

Jazzy wanted to just downright quit fashion school, and like any other irrational decision she wanted to make in her life, Priest forbade her from doing it. The reason she had given Priest for flying out to New York for the moment was because she missed home, but truthfully, it was because she had already dropped out of fashion school in Paris but was too afraid to inform Priest of her decision. She knew he was going to blow his top when she told him, but she truly felt like living in New York was much more her speed.

After their moment of just hugging, Priest navigated from the premises of the private airport and set out on the road toward the penthouse. "How is Paris?" Priest asked her. She was getting sick of that same tired-ass question.

Paris was Paris, beautiful all day and night— nothing new or exciting. "It's cool." Jazzy shrugged her shoulders. "Bro, can we hit Bueno! before you take me to your place? I'm craving real American cuisine." Jazzy licked her lips at the thought of the fatty, oil-slathered cheeseburger the cook atBueno!knew how to make to perfection. It was none of that poached egg over avocado toast bullshit her roommate Harmonique made every damn morning.

"I send you off to the place of your dreams, and all I get isit's coolwhen I ask how it is over there?" Priest furrowed his brows questioningly as he gripped the steering wheel.

She shook her head, brushing the matter off. "I mean, that's what it is: cool," she muttered as she poured all her attention into her phone, scrolling through social media.

Priest glanced over at Jazzlyn, noticing that she was wearing her signature mean mug, the one he used to make her practice whenever she came home and told him about the bullies she had to face at school. It was around the same time he cut some jagged bangs in her hair. It stuck with her and made her look unapproachable, the way she liked things to be.

"Sounds like I should be worried," Priest eased out before averting his eyes back onto the road.

Jazzlyn locked her phone shut and let out a huff of air. "Priest, I've only been in the car for five minutes, and you're already killing the vibe. Can we just not argue about this and enjoy the fact that your gorgeous sister is back in New York to apply pressure?" She smirked.

Priest chuckled before nodding his head. "You got it. After I get you settled in?—"

"My penthouse," she let out, interjecting Priest with her quick correction.

Priest shook his head with a light laugh. "Whatever helps you sleep better at night, scrub."

She hit him in the chest with a laugh. "You're the scrub. Always grumpy ‘cause you get no play. It's hard being ugly, ain't it?" She pouted sympathetically while eyeing him.

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