25| Product Of The Trauma

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Every time you go to sleep you look like you in Heaven. Plus the head game is stronger than a few Excedrin. You shine just like the patent leather on my new 11's. You read me like a book like I'm the Bible,  you the Reverend. And, I wanna tell the truth to you I wanna talk about my days as a youth to you Exposing you to all my demons and the reasons I'm this way. | J. Cole  

Britain felt Priest's body press against hers as she stood in the kitchen. In great hopes of distracting her busy mind, Britain thought it would be perfect to just cook. Her in the kitchen, a little wine and good music always vacated her mind and alleviated her from the heavy weight of this specific day. 

Britain felt her lips tug into a swooned smile. She was so proud of Priest for how he was handling the day. He wasn't pressuring her to concede to the normal ways of grieving, plus he was allowing her all the space she needed. She thought that spending today with Priest would be extremely hard since he liked to be upfront and confrontational about any and everything. She didn't need that side of him at the moment and he understood that. She was leading the day and leading the atmosphere of it. 

If Britain wanted silence then that's what he gave her. If she wanted to laugh and act like nothing was bothering her, he gave her that too.  "You willing to learn today?" She asked him.

Priest craned down applying a kiss onto her cheek. "Yeah, teach me everything you know," He smirked.

Britain chuckled as she set the thin blade knife down onto the cutting board next to the half chopped vegetables. Britain setting the knife down, indicated that Priest should pick it up. She maneuvered out of the way so she could be standing beside him instead. "Get to chopping sous chef," She teased. 

Priest picked up the knife and began chopping the onions and peppers up. Beside him, he heard Britain snicker which caused him to stop. "What?" He eyed her wanting to know what was funny. 

"P, that's not how you chop and mince vegetables," She told him. "You look so stiff," 

Priest scoffed. "The hell you want me to do—dance while using a sharp ass knife?" 

Britain laughed as she navigated behind Priest, wrapping her arms around his torso. She placed her hand over his while he held onto the handle of the knife. Priest relaxed a bit as Britain guided him through cutting and mincing the vegetables. "Relaxing, isn't it?" She lets out in a light voice. 

"No, I'm scared you might slice my finger," Priest mumbled out as he hurriedly snatching his other hand away that was positioning the rest of the uncut onions. 

Britain laughs. "Move around," She instructed him causing Priest to ultimately let go of the knife and reclaim the position he had standing next to her. He hiked himself up on the counter which Britain side eyed him for. "You're supposed to be helping me. Worst sous chef ever," 

Priest chuckled as he picked up a green pepper from the pile she had diced and ate it. "I think I'm doing pretty good," He shrugged his shoulders. 

"Of course you do," She shook her head once she finished chopping everything up. 

"Come here," He called her over. Britain glanced up at him, a small smirk playing out on her face. She resigned from her task of cooking and obliged to Priest's request of her coming over to him.  Britain stood between his long legs, looking up at him. "I love you," Priest said to her before craning down to peck her lips.

"Awe," Britain cooed. "I love you too," 

"Take a ride with me today, just to get your mind off things," Priest suggested. 

Britain nods she seemed pretty willing. "Another adventure?" She laughed lightly, thinking about the time he had taken her to an abandoned home to retrieve a million dollars that had been stashed away for decades. 

"Nah, nothing like that," Priest shook his head. "It'll be fun," He tells her. 

"I'm all in," She confirms. "Just let me finish my pasta though because I've been craving it," She returned to the task of cooking. 

With the mere help of Priest, Britain ended up finishing her easy meal of pasta. Instead of resorting to the table to sit down and enjoy their meal together, they remained in the kitchen.

Now, Priest had hiked Britain up to sit on the counter while he stood in between her legs. They shared a plate of pasta, Britain not only feeding herself, but him as well.  "You ready for the Gala tomorrow?" Priest asked her. 

Britain nods. "I'm excited," She admits. "Thank you for the opportunity by the way," 

Priest reached his hands over caress her face. "It's nothing," He assures. "You're with me now," 

Britain smirked at him. "I like the sound of that," She tells him while wrapping her arms around his neck. 

Priest brushed his thumb gently over her lips as he smiled at her. "You're stronger than I am. Y'know that?" Priest tells her as his dark orbs peered into her feline like ones.  

The smirk that portrayed on Britain bare face, panned out to a smile. "Don't say that," She shakes her head. "You're strengths are your strengths and mine are mine," She shrugs.

"How you keeping it together?" Priest asked her with his brows furrowed together. 

Britain let's out a deep sigh. She glanced away from him no longer having the courage to keep eye contact, "I have too. It's life," 

"That shit is hard," Priest admits. "I can't even imagine," 

"I've been through it," Britain shrugs. "I'm a woman, it comes with the territory," Losing a child shouldn't have to come with the territory of women, but for Britain's sanity, she likes to think it did. 

Realizing that Priest had given up the effort to ever understand her, she tried explaining once more. "It's a mind thing. If I linger, the wound gets deeper and deeper to the point where it's just impossible for me to heal. If I hover, I can see and feel the growth and healing of it all. I would rather to always hover than to linger," 

Priest nodded his head in understanding. Britain made a lot of sense. Unknowingly, Priest used that same technique in different parts of his life. "So you feel the pain, you just don't acknowledge it?"

"Yes," Britain confirmed. "Your mind has a crazy way of over obsessing pain to make it hurt more than it truly does. I learned to detach from that," Britain shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

"But she's still your kid," Priest reminded Britain since he felt like her disconnect with her emotion was clouding what was truly important. 

Britain nodded. "Yeah she was," She lets out with a deep sigh. "And Sylvia robbed you of a childhood, but you still cater to her every need like she hadn't," Britain pointed out one of Priest's wounds that he was still lingering on rather than hovering over it. 

"Used to cater to her every need," Priest piped in. "Correct yourself," They both chuckled finding light with in their pain.

"I'm extremely proud of you for that by the way," Britain praised him. 

Priest nodded with a grin plastered on his face. "Yeah I know, you dropped that neck on a nigga the other night," He teased her while wrapping one hand around her neck. 

Britain stale faced him before hitting his chest lightly while he laughed loudly. "I give you an inch and you take a mile," She shook her head at him while tossing his hand away from her neck. 

"I gave you nine inches, now look at you," He smirked while groping her bottom half that had become wider before training his hands up her sides and to her breast which had plumped up.  Britain rolled her eyes.

"8.5 on a good day," She murmured out jokingly.  Priest chuckled as he shook his head. "All you do is talk shit yo,"

"You like it," Britain shrugs as she pecked her lips against his. 

"Go get ready, I'll be back in an hour for you," He instructed her. 

With a laugh, Britain lifted her arms up. "Carry me to the bedroom," 

Priest chuckled as he hiked her over his high shoulder. As he traveled throughout the apartment with her, Britain's laughter filled his ears. 

He tossed her gently onto the bed causing her laughter to intensify. Laying on her back, Britain looked up at him. His playful demeanor seemed to mellow out and grow more serious and more caring. "Get better," He tells her before leaning down to kiss her plump lips. 

She watched him get up and begin to gather his things to leave. A look of confusion framed her face. Britain rolled over and laid on her stomach, propping her head up with her hands. "I feel fine," She tells him.

As he was putting on the jacket of his Givenchy tracksuit, he glanced over his shoulder at her. "Okay Brit," He sighs out once he zipped the jacket up to his liking. 

"You don't sound convinced," Britain was beginning to grow offended. She hated for someone to be uncertain with her, if she said she was fine, then that should be that—she was fine!

A light smile pulled on Priest's lips. "If you say you're fine, then you're fine," He assures her as he made his way back over to her. "But as the man who's learning you from inside-out, I'm telling you to get better," He advised her. Before she could refute to all he was claiming, he went in for another kiss.

"I'll see you in an hour, nothing more," He slaps her rear gently in a flirting manner. "I love you," He calls out to her as he exited the bedroom. 

She knew that Priest wouldn't turn back to have the conversation, pertaining to him advising her to get better. He was going to let her fester until she confronted her raw emotions head on, herself. Instead of stringing along the discussion, Britain sighs. "I love you too!" She calls out to him.

That gave him the notion that he was cleared to leave. She heard the door shut and lock behind him.

Registering what he had just said to her, Britain glanced around her bedroom. Her orbs landed on the journal she had yet to place in her backpack. She had the urge to reach over for it, but she fought it. "Not worth it Britain," Said to herself while getting out of bed.

Priest who had become lethal with his time management lately was sure to show up exactly an hour later, so Britain was shuffling around swiftly to get dressed and ready. 

While Britain was getting dressed, Priest found himself traveling to go check up on Mirsad before heading to the penthouse to get ready himself. Pulling the car up at the curb if Remy's house, Priest opened the butterfly door of his BMW i8 before stepping out. Remy and Mirsad were sitting in on the porch having what seemed like a good conversation.  Upon the notice of Priest's arrival, they halted the conversation. "Never knew you had that one," Mirsad says pointing to Priest's parked car behind him. 

Priest chuckled, lately, Mirsad hadn't been that bad. Remy's influence on him was paying off for the better. "Yeah me either," Priest let out sarcastically causing Remy to chuckle at their constant back and forth bantering. 

"What brings you by son?" Remy asked Priest while offering him a seat. 

Priest declined the seat. "You're daughter has me on a certain time frame," Priest smirked causing Remy to chuckle once more at the thought of Britain. "I just came to thank you and take his horrible ass off your hands," Priest glances at Mirsad who's ears had immediately peeled up at the sound of him being able to leave Remy's spot. 

"You handled it? That fast? Damn man, you're legit!" Mirsad jolted up from his seat in excitement as he slapped hands with Priest. 

Priest chuckled. "Yeah I handled it. Ain't nobody gunning for you until you get yourself in some shit again," Priest scoffed. 

"What you did, gun the nigga down? Or you snatched his moms for what he did to my ma? You had to do something crazy?" Mirsad's eyes widened as a rush of adrenaline flowed through him, wanting to hear all the details Priest had to spare.

Priest eyed Mirsad oddly. "No," Priest shook his head. "I cleared your fucking name and debt. You're clean," He assured Mirsad.

Mirsad instantly grew uninterested and disappointed at the fact that Darius hadn't been gunned down. "Yo he came at my moms," Mirsad reminded Priest. 

Priest nodded. "Yeah and you also stole his shit and tried to play him. Eye for an eye," Priest shrugged causing Remy to agree.

Mirsad smacked his lips. "Man whatever," He muttered out. "Imma be inside getting my stuff," He informed them before heading into the house. 

Priest sighed. Mirsad still had some things to work on and being in the streets was one of them. "How's he been?" Priest asked Remy.

Remy glanced behind him to ensure that Mirsad was no where in sight listening in to their conversation. "Keep this between us, but he's a good kid," Remy admits causing Priest to laugh. "He just need some guidance. He opened up to me about his pops too," 

Priest was familiar with Mirsad's dad, Officer Peter Jenkins. Peter's relationship with Nia wasn't the best and wasn't the most normal. Officer to prostitute, a child shouldn't have been in the picture. Mirsad had only seen his father through one picture Nia showed him which she had stolen the last night she ever heard from Peter, the night she told him she was pregnant with Mirsad. 

The pictures had inked a permanent spot in Mirsad's mind. He never imagined the next time he saw his father he would be getting detained by him and searched. Peter was a coon. He was aggressive to impress the whites in his profession. He was one of those black officers who used excessive force on black men and women without a care because he liked the feeling of him being in power. Mirsad was roughed up, hand cuffed, and searched by his own father and he didn't even bother to tell Peter that he was his son. 

No one knew of this aside from Remy and Remy had made a promise to never tell a soul. Mirsad claimed that he wanted to keep his dignity.  "Yeah, it's clear that he's in pain about it. Every man that talks to him, gets that you ain't my pops treatment," Both Remy and Priest had gotten that rant from Mirsad when he was frustrated by them checking him as if they were his father. He was young, pained, and inexperienced.

Remy sighed. "Keep him close PJ, he looks up to you a lot, y'know?" 

Priest nodded. Luckily their conversation came to an end as soon as Mirsad came to view with his duffle bag hanging from his shoulder. "Ready man?" Priest asked him.

Mirsad nodded before turning in the direction of Remy. "I appreciate you for looking out Mr. Demings," He thanked Remy with a light smile.

  "Call me Remy son," He assured Mirsad. "Stay out of trouble," The two slapped hands saying their final goodbye.

"Ight' Remy, call me if you need anything," Priest said to him as he fixed to leave. 

Remy nodded, seeing them off. Priest was leading the way to the car, just as he got to the gate, Mirsad stopped in his tracks calling for Priest to do the same. "Hold up,"  Priest turned around to face Mirsad. "What's up?" He asked Mirsad. 

Mirsad glanced up at Priest, then back to Remy who was already sparking a thickly rolled joint on his porch. "I think I'm gonna stay here for a little while longer, if that's cool with Rem," Upon hearing that Priest raised his brows in shock just as Remy leaned up in his seat. 

Priest shifted his eyes between a shocked Remy and a hopeful Mirsad. "That's cool with you Remy?" 

Remy eyed Mirsad briefly with a light smile. He nodded his head. "Fine with me man," He shrugged.

Figuring that he had no room to decide for Mirsad, Priest agreed. "Aye, what you want me to tell your moms?" Priest asked Mirsad. 

Mirsad shrugged. "Tell her I'm trying to do better," He advises Priest.

Priest was proud of Mirsad. He nodded his head before thanking Remy. "I'll check in with y'all," Priest said to them as he exited the gate so he could get into his car. He definitely wasn't expecting for Mirsad to suddenly want to stay with Remy, but he understood why. Remy had that affect on young men like Mirsad. 

Priest checked the time and realize that almost half an hour had went to his disposal already. He found his way to the penthouse pretty quickly which was a bit shocking. Bypassing security, he made his way up with ease. Upon entrance of the penthouse he was a bit taken aback by how many women were sitting and having a joyous time in his home. Locating Jazzy within the swamp of eleven other women, he shot her a look of confusion. 

Jazzy was in the middle of getting one girl's measurements with her measuring tape that she had hung around her neck. Priest strides his way over to her, wanting answers. "Yo what the fuck?" He caught Jazzy's attention. 

"Oh hey PJ, I hope you don't mind, we're having a fitting in here," She smiled up at her brother.  Priest smacked his lips. "Yo, clear my shit out—quickly," He warned her with a stern eye.

"You're knocking my hustle," She scoffed with her arms folded across her chest. 

"Listen, I can't do this," He gesture his hand around the room referring to the amount of people in his home at the moment. "I commend you for hustling, but you gone have to find a different spot," He shook his head. 

Jazzy glared at him before letting out a heavy sigh. "You're never here anyways,"

"Doesn't matter," He snaps at her. "It's still my spot that I don't need people blowing it up. You thinking real fucking reckless kid," Frustration leaked out of him. "Clear my shit out Jazzlyn," He ordered as he began his way towards his bedroom. 

Priest was real strict about who came in and out of his home. His personal space and privacy was big for him and Jazzy understand that. So he was confused as to why she had the whole strip club in his spot at the moment. Priest was a huge target he couldn't have any and everyone coming through his spot. A sneaky bitch was way worse than a hating as nigga, and right now he couldn't trust any of the women Jazzy had in his home. 

Priest rushed the process of getting ready. He didn't want to be late for Britain, especially since it was a hard day for her. Once he was finished, he sprayed himself down with a designer and signature scent before leaving his bedroom, to his luck, Jazzy seemed to be wrapping up. She followed his orders and told all the ladies she was fitting that they had to leave and they would catch up some other time. 

Priest awaited for the last woman to leave before having a conversation with Priest. "Look, what's mine is yours, I just need you to understand that I can't have what you just had up here," He spoke to his sister in a softer tone. 

Jazzy nodded. "Yeah," She breathes out. "I'm gonna be working late again tonight. Not that you're ever home to realize," She mumbles out while brushing past him to go towards her bedroom. 

Priest sighed while turning around to continue speaking to Jazzy. "Jazzy I told you it wasn't the time for you to come home," He reminded her. 

Jazzy rolls her eyes. "How about you just say you don't have time for me, you're busy elsewhere," She guilts him before entering her bedroom. 

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