Page 41 of The Millionaire Mortician
When we finally turned to leave, I observed the environment and wasn’t pleased at how the cemetery looked. It wasn’t maintained well. There was high grass and bushes all over, covering people’s loved ones’ graves. It wasn’t a proper path to pass when coming in and out. Overall, it was distasteful how they treated the dead.
“Leh we go and do wah ya parents would’ve done,” my aunt grabbed my attention and told me before getting in the car.
I wasn’t sure what she meant, but I knew I would eventually find out.
Back at the house,Aunt Patrice and a few of the other elders shifted the day’s energy. “Dis afternoon is for de people,” she announced with her tone firm and her eyes bright.
By two o’clock, the whole community was crowding the street outside. Tents were set up with tables lined with food. It had stewed chicken, pelau, macaroni pie, and corn soup steaming in big silver pots. Coolers were filled with Solo, Chubby sodas, and cold-water bottles. There were bags of snacks stacked high, ready for little hands to grab. The whole setup was dope. It featured bouncy castles and face painting for the children, along with other games and activities to keep them busy and happy.
Mav dove into the action quicker than I. He always had a softer spot for kids, which was wild as fuck to me since he was a straight dickhead. I caught him at one point, handing out juice boxes, letting a group of boys crowd around him, and then bragging about who was fastest in the race. He laughed like he belonged right there, like he’d never left this soil.
I admired the way our family managed to pull everything off. Everyone was fed, with no one being turned away and no questions being asked.
Aunt Patrice caught me standing off to the side and approached me. “Dias wah ya parents did. They hustled hard tuh feed their family and community. They stepped up when no one else did. Losing dem puh a dent in a lot of people’s lives. We miss their love and presence dearly,” she expressed.
That’s when it hit me. That day wasn’t about mourning. It was about our legacy being in action. My aunt’s voice replayedin my head when she said for us to do what my parents would’ve done.
As the sun dropped low, music picked up, and Soca spilled through the speakers as parents danced and the kids still ran circles around them. The street was still alive. Our family’s name carried weight there, but that day it wasn’t because of fear or whispers about power. It was all about respect, gratitude, and love.
I caught Mav’s eye across the yard. He grinned, raising a juice box like a toast. Shooting him a nod back, I smirked because the wheels in my head were turning.
After seeing everything and experiencing a warm feeling, I realized that if we stepped into Stephon’s plan, it couldn’t just be about moving weight. It had to mean something for the family and the community as a whole. It was going to be there or nothing at all.
Istood, sizing myself up and down in the mirror to make sure my choice of outfit was right. At that point, I had already changed my fit about three times. First, I felt one was too regular, then I felt the next was too over the top. Finally, I settled on an in-between choice — a tan fitted dress that didn’t show too much but hugged me properly. Adding a cute pair of black Givenchy heels and a purse to match. My hair was laid nicely with my pixie cut, and my makeup was beat with a natural glam.
My phone buzzed with a text message.
Fabe: I’m heading out. See you soon.
Me: Same. See you in a lil bit.
My initial date with Fabian the day before was canceled at the last minute when I couldn’t get out of bed after work. The salon was extra busy, and I instantly started feeling under the weather once the day came to an end. When I got home, I showered and crashed, unable to wake myself up to get ready, so I told him we needed to reschedule.
Finally, the time had come for us to step out together. While I was nervous overall, I was yearning to blush and have butterflies flutter in my stomach.
Grabbing my things, I made my way downstairs and out the door. As I slid into my truck, I looked at my surroundings to see if any of Milan’s guards were around and lurking, but the coast was clear. Cutting on my engine, I placed my truck in drive and pulled away from the curb.
About twenty-five minutes later, I had arrived at the restaurant. Before getting out of the vehicle, I shot Fabian a text to see if he was there or not. Almost instantly, I saw the bubbles. He wrote back, saying he was already inside, waiting for me at the table.
Sliding out of my whip, I grabbed the card from the valet and proceeded inside. The restaurant had a nice, upscale feel. The lights were dim as soft jazz played in the background. Looking around, it was a mixed crowd, but mainly of the yt people.
As I approached the hostess, I peeped her sizing me up and down.
“Hill,” I simply stated without uttering another word.
The hostess looked at her screen, then straightened, as if she recognized the name. “Right this way, Ms. Hill.” She led me past the bar where couples were leaning in to each other, and a few solo people looked relieved to be outside their apartments.
Fabian stood as we approached the table like a true gentleman. He wore a black button-up with the sleeves rolledup and some black slacks. His jewelry was simple but loud, and those dimples deepened when he smiled.
Fabian was already pulling out my chair before the hostess could.
“Look at you,” he stated in a low but sweet tone.
“Look at you,” I shot back, giving him a once-over, “trying to outdo me in my own category, huh?”
He grinned, then leaned a little with his eyes sweeping my dress without touching. “Do you feel better?”
I nodded. “Whole different body today,” I confirmed as I settled in my seat. “Yesterday had me done. I was fighting for my life.”
