Page 24 of The Millionaire Mortician
“We’re meeting tonight at nine o’clock. Make sure and call Maverick and let him know,” Mallo’s voice boomed through the phone. He rattled off an address on the Upper East Side, then hung up abruptly.
I stared at the phone for a second.Did that shit just happen so fast?
I immediately called Maverick on my office’s secured line. As usual, he picked up on the second ring.
“What’s good?” he answered.
“I got that call a minute ago. Meet me at this spot tonight at nine o’clock.” I repeated the address Mallo told me.
“Bet. I’ll see you there.” We hung up.
I wrapped up what I was doing, ensuring everything was done correctly, and then headed back to my office. One of the luxuries of owning the funeral home was having my own setup — a private shower, clean suits hanging in the closet, andeverything tailored for a man who might need to switch gears quickly.
I turned the water on hot, letting the steam fog the mirror while I washed away the day. Death clung to you if you let it, and I wasn’t about to walk into a meeting with a Venezuelan connect smelling like embalming fluid.
Since I had only worn it to work, I threw back on the same black-on-black suit I had worn earlier that morning, making sure the cufflinks were secured properly. I checked my watch and saw it was twenty minutes past eight. Not wasting another second, I grabbed my things and dipped out of the office. Getting into my truck, I signaled Don to follow me as I pulled off the compound. By the time I hit the road, the night had already laid its hand over the city.
The rideto the Upper East Side was about thirty minutes, so I arrived with a few minutes to spare. When I pulled up to the building, Maverick’s car came gliding in from the other direction.Perfect timing, I thought. It was always like that with us. Most people called it twin energy.
Getting out of our whips, we dapped each other up outside before heading in.
“You ready?” he asked with a grin.
“I was born ready, nigga,” I replied with a smirk.
Walking inside, we peeped that security was tight. Four guards were stationed at the door. As we approached them, they gestured that they had to search us. They gave us a full pat-down, checked our jackets, and ensured that no metal followedus upstairs. Of course, Mav and I had our heat on us, so they took it, assuming we’d get it back on our exit.
Once we were cleared, one of the guards escorted us to the elevator and pressed the button for the penthouse. The ride up was silent as Maverick and I stood shoulder to shoulder, both calm, both locked in. By the time those doors opened to the penthouse, we were already in character.
Mallo was waiting, seated on a leather couch. As soon as he saw us, he stood and made his way to us, flashing that cool smile. “Right on time.”
He gestured us over, and that’s when I noticed the older man seated across from him. The man was in his mid-sixties, perhaps, with slick hair combed back, olive skin marked by the lines of a life lived both rough and rich. His suit was lighter than mine. It gave summer weight, but the way he sat made it clear — he wasn’t just some rich old man. He was the kind of man who had people killed with a wave of his hand.
Mallo made the introduction in Spanish first, then in English. “This is Don Rafael. The man who would decide if you not only still got your supply, but if you’ll replace me and be an extension of him.”
Don Rafael’s eyes slid over to me, then Maverick, sharp as blades. He didn’t speak right away. He just sat there measuring us, waiting to see if we’d flinch. We didn’t, though. We weren’t built soft.
I sat down across from him with my back straight, ready to handle business.
“So, I know Mallo told you we’re interested in taking over his position. We ain’t here to overcomplicate nothing. We’re here to keep the line solid.”
His eyebrow arched slightly. “And how will you transport the product?”
“Through channels already in place,” I informed him. “Funeral services give us clean transport. Nobody questions coffins or medical shipments. We diversify storage — some at the morgue, and some through warehouses tied to other businesses. No heavy congregation in one spot. Everything is split and layered. That way, if one box gets cracked open, the rest stay untouched.”
He nodded once, his eyes still fixed on me.
“And distribution?”
“That’s where we shift up,” Maverick cut in with his voice sharper and his energy humming. “We already got trap houses running clean. We scale them, making small timers buy through us instead of competing with us. Keep the streets organized so that it’s less noisy. Everybody eats, but they eat through us.”
The Don let a small smile creep onto his lips. He looked between Mav and me — my calm, Maverick’s edge. “Two brothers,” he spoke softly, accent thick. “One with fire, one with water. Balanced.” He nodded slowly, turning his gaze to Mallo. “You have chosen well.”
Mallo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “So it’s official, y’all will be the new North-east distributors for Don Rafael. But understand, this ain’t no corner boy business no more. Those rivals y’all got? They’re clients now. Don’t treat ‘em like enemies. Treat ‘em like accounts. Small beefs? Leave ‘em be. You two are bigger bosses now. Act like it.”
His eyes locked on me when he said that last line, like he knew I understood it better than most.
I gave a slight nod. “We hear you.”
