Page 5 of The Millionaire Mortician
I looked at Milan. “Come in!” I yelled.
In walked one of our lieutenants, Dave, with two soldiers. He looked a little on edge, which had me looking at him sideways. I noticed him moving his fingers in his jeans pocket and barely making eye contact, as usual. The energy was just off from the moment he walked in.
Dave was in charge of the two niggas who were allegedly caught skimming. He came and told us, even though he knew he could’ve potentially been held accountable for them. Seeing that, I gave him a pass as a real one.
“What are you doing here?” I got straight to it.
We didn’t have any meetings scheduled, and I barely allowed them niggas to come to the dealership.
“I just wanted to check in and make sure everything was cool,” Dave insisted.
I looked over at Milan, who was just watching the guys. “Everything is everything, my nigga. You can go ahead and dowhat you do,” I assured him that the two dudes were taken care of.
As he nodded and turned to head out, one of the guys with him stared me dead in my eyes without blinking. His entire demeanor was off, as if he were trying to tell me something.
He turned to leave behind Dave. “Aye, what’s yo’ name?” Milan came out of nowhere and asked.
At the speed of light, he turned around. “It’s Reem, right?” I answered before he did.
Dave and the other dude stopped at the door once they heard us talking to Reem. Something in my gut told me to holla at the young’n.
“Where are you from?” Milan went on and asked.
“The Ville,” he replied, referring to Brownsville.
“How’s he been doing?” I turned to Dave and inquired.
Dave looked at Reem like a proud father. “Lil’ homie’s been putting in work with no questions asked. He gon’ be the next y’all,” he convinced.
Milan and I chuckled and nodded our heads. “I need something done. Let me holla at you,” I told Reem. “Dave, he’ll be out in a minute.” I motioned for him and the other nigga to take flight and disappear.
Once the door was closed, Milan stood and walked up to Reem. “What’s really good?” he questioned.
I didn’t even have to say a word. Milan picked up on the energy coming from Reem. Some may say it was a twin thing, while others would say he was just an observant ass nigga like me.
Reem looked at Milan, then looked at me. “That nigga’s the one skimming. He’s always talkin’ ‘bout takin’ over y’all shit. I got in the game to get money and be respected. I always looked up to y’all and my loyalty lies here, but respectfully, y’all niggas got the wrong fools,” he explained.
I instantly felt the temperature rise in my body as my ears tingled. Looking at Milan, I could tell he felt the same. We locked eyes, and words didn’t need to be said.
I grabbed my phone off my desk. “Put your number in here. I’ma call you. Just play shit cool, aight?” I told him.
Reem nodded as he punched his math in and saved it. Without saying another word, he left the office, leaving Milan and me to our thoughts.
If it wasn’t one thing, it was the other. For the most part, being a funeral director and mortician gave me peace, but the streets gave me hell. Time and time again, I asked myself if I wanted to continue dealing with the bullshit, but then something in me wouldn’t stop. I believe it was the thrill of it all.
One thing I hated doing was taking a life if it wasn’t necessary. Two men were gone because we sat there and took the word of someone we were supposed to trust. Although Maverick and I never fully trusted anyone but each other, to some extent, the lieutenants in our camp were supposed to be trustworthy.
Not only did we now have a problem on our hands, but it was also within our organization, and we had someone to protect. Reem didn’t have to say shit to us. He could’ve played along with Dave’s plan with hopes of everything falling in line, and hewould’ve been good either way. Instead, he was a real nigga and was loyal to the Marcano Organization and put us up on game.
After a long afternoon, I decided to go home and take a day away from the funeral home. I was mentally exhausted and just needed to unwind for a while. When I walked into the house, Daija was surprised as hell to see me home early.
She ran into my arms. “Babyyy! What are you doing here?” she happily sang.
“A nigga needs a moment, Daij,” I expressed as I held her around her waist.
“I know. Come on.” She grabbed my hand and led me upstairs to our bedroom.
As we got into the room, she instructed me to get undressed while she went into the bathroom adjacent to the room and filled the tub. Slowly, I peeled off my suit, then my underclothes.
