His Streets, Not Mine… part 2
Peaches leaned against the wall near the office, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded like she was somewhere else entirely. Priest stood in front of her, suit crisp, patience thinning by the second. He’d given this speech before—about optics, about unity, about how the club ran smoother when the girls didn’t isolate themselves.
None of it stuck.
“I don’t care for the bitches here,” Peaches said flatly when he brought up her associating with the other women.
Priest arched a brow, that familiar sly grin tugging at his mouth like he already knew the outcome. “You gotta mingle. Gain friends. This is a business, Peaches. Appearances matter.”
She shook her head once, firm. “I don’t care for them.”
The smile fell. Priest sighed heavily, rubbing his jaw. “You move like you’re on an island.”
“That’s because I am. ”
Silence stretched between them. The bass from the club thumped through the walls, distant laughter bleeding in, but Peaches felt none of it. She never did. People had a way of leaving. Of switching up. Of using softness against you. She learned early that detachment was cheaper than heartbreak.
“I’m not asking you to love them,” Priest said, lowering his voice. “Just don’t move like you’re above them.”
Her eyes finally met his. Sharp. Guarded. “I don’t think I’m above anybody. I just don’t trust nobody.”
That landed heavier than he expected.
Priest studied her for a moment, seeing past the fur coats and confidence, past the way she handled rooms like currency. “That mindset’ll keep you safe,” he said slowly. “But it’ll also keep you alone.”
Peaches shrugged, already tuning him out. “I been alone.”
She pushed off the wall and walked back toward the lights, hips swaying, mask sliding back into place like muscle memory. Priest watched her go, knowing full damn well—whatever he was trying to protect her from, she’d already survived worse.
And whatever was coming next?
Peaches would face it the same way she faced everything else.
By herself.
Peaches caught Priest near the bar later that night, the club loud enough to swallow secrets if you spoke low. He was counting cash, jaw tight, eyes sharp. She waited until he looked up.
“I almost got into it with one of the dancers,” she said casually, like she was commenting on the weather.
That made him pause.
“Which one?” he asked, already annoyed.
“Don’t matter.” She shrugged. “She felt slick. Got too comfortable with her mouth.”
Priest set the money down slowly and looked at her—really looked at her. “You can’t be doing that.”
“She stepped to me.”
“And you’re smarter than that,” he said. “You know how fast shit turns ugly in here.”
Peaches folded her arms. “I didn’t swing.”
“I know. But the fact that you wanted to tells me you’re wound tight.”
She scoffed. “I don’t trust these girls. They smile in your face and pray on your downfall. I see it.”
Priest exhaled through his nose. “You don’t trust nobody.”
“That’s not true,” she said quickly. Too quick.
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
She hesitated, then looked at him. Just him. “I trust you.”
The words sat between them heavier than bass, heavier than money.
Priest’s expression shifted—no grin, no slickness. Just real. “That’s dangerous.”
“Maybe,” she said. “But it’s honest.”
She didn’t do bonds. Didn’t do loyalty unless it was earned in blood or consistency. And Priest had been consistent. Always placing her where the money was right. Always checking on her. Always making sure she got home.
“You can’t put all that on me,” he said quietly.
“I already have.”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You need allies here. Not enemies.”
“I need peace,” she corrected. “And money.”
“And protection,” he added.
Her eyes narrowed. “That’s you.”
For a split second, Priest looked like he wanted to argue. Instead, he nodded once. “I got you. But you gotta meet me halfway. No fighting. No slipping.”
She gave a tight smile. “I don’t slip.”
He smirked. “That’s what scares me.”
Across the room, the dancer she’d almost fought laughed too loud, eyes flicking toward Peaches with something ugly behind them. Peaches caught it. Always did.
She leaned in toward Priest and said softly, “See? That’s why I don’t do friends.”
Priest followed her gaze, then looked back at her. “Then stay close to me tonight.”
She didn’t hesitate. She stepped nearer, shoulder brushing his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.
For the first time in a long time, Peaches felt anchored.
And for the first time, Priest realized—
whatever storms were circling her, he was standing right in the middle of them now.
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