Page 19 of The Millionaire Mortician
Mallo exhaled, looking between us. “It’s time to level up. I’ve been thinking long term, and the truth is... I’m moving to the West Coast, LA to be exact. I’ve already started laying foundation there, which means my seat here — my position as the distributor for my Venezuelan connect — is gon’ be wide open.”
He paused, letting the information sink in.
“You two are built for this. You already got the structure and the manpower. What you need now is a way in. The connect is gonna want to hear how you can bring the weight in quietly andkeep it steady with no heat. Y’all figure out a plan, present it to him, and it’s yours.”
The room went still. My eyes met Maverick’s for a second, unspoken words passing like always.
We have spoken on many occasions about taking things to the next level, but, of course, it was all about timing. Mallo had been good to us over the years, so we didn’t plan on going behind his back to do no shiesty shit. I guess our patience was working out for us, because the opportunity literally just landed in our laps.
“We’ll think on it,” Maverick finally spoke.
Mallo nodded and was looking to leave, but my brother wasn’t finished with the meeting.
“What about Frost?” Maverick asked, leaning back in his chair like he was asking a casual question.
Mallo’s face shifted a little tighter. He reached into his phone, pulled up a picture, and slid it across the desk. Frost was a heavyset dude with pale skin and a cold stare. Tattoos crept up his neck like vines.
“That’s Frost,” Mallo pointed out. “Deadly and cold-blooded, but we never had problems ‘cause he stayed in his territory, and I stayed in mine. As long as nobody crosses lines, it’s always peace.”
Mallo stood, locking eyes with both of us. “Don’t get it twisted. He’s the type you only get one shot at if shit ever goes left. You miss, you’re done.”
Silence hung in the air for a while.
Mallo brushed his palms together. “Anyway... y’all sit with it. I’ll line the connect when you’re ready.”
He dapped us both up again and slid out of the office, leaving the weight of opportunity behind him.
Once the door was closed, it was just Maverick and me again. We both just looked at each other for a moment.
“What you thinkin’?” I inquired.
He shifted in his seat. “You already know what I’m thinkin’. We spoke on this shit how many times and for how long?” he expressed.
I nodded. “I know, I know.” I sat there staring into space for a minute. “Fuck it. Let’s get a game plan going then.”
Maverick smiled wide as hell as he rubbed his hands together like Birdman. I just laughed at him.
“Oh yeah, I’ma need a Benz truck,” I blurted out.
He looked at me sideways, chuckling. “For what? You got one.”
“It’s for Daija. I’ma give it to her for her grand opening as a congratulations gift.”
Maverick barked a laugh, shaking his head. “Nigga, you a sucker for love, I swear...”
I let the corner of my mouth twitch. “Maybe.”
He leaned over and pressed his intercom button. “Deyonna!”
Within seconds, his assistant, Deyonna, popped her head in quickly with a pad and pen ready.
“Handle a Benz truck order for my brother,” Maverick instructed her. “Fully loaded. It’s a gift for his lady.” She nodded, scribbled notes, and then disappeared again.
Maverick leaned back, still grinning at me. “Sucker for love ass nigga,” he repeated.
The past month flew by faster than I could even blink. It felt like just yesterday I was sitting on the couch scrolling through spaces. Yet now there I was, standing in my own damn salon with the walls painted, chairs in place, and lights shining bright, like money was well spent. I guess when money talked, bullshit wasn’t even part of the conversation. Everything moved smoothly from the moment we signed the leasing agreement. There were no hiccups or delays. Just straight execution. I had Milan to thank for that.
Talina was over in the corner, arguing with the electrician about the placement of a damn interior sign like her life depended on it. Two of the stylists we hired were placing products on the shelves, making the salon look cute andboutique-like, while another was fussing with the mirrors, trying to get them at the right angle.
