Page 38 of The Millionaire Mortician
“That’s wassup. That’s dope.”
“Yeah. Did Maverick tell you what he did today?” I raised a brow as I continued to clean him up.
Milan was seated facing the massive mirror we had in the bathroom, so I was able to see his face and vice versa.
He creased his eyebrows. “Nah, what happened?” he questioned.
I went on to tell him about the whole ordeal with Mav and Ashley. Although I defended him to a certain extent, I wasn’t happy about what transpired in my place of business.
“This nigga, man.” Milan sighed out loud. “I’ma holla at him.”
“Thank you,” I softly replied.
By then, I was finished shaping him up, and he was good to go. Milan stood to his feet and checked himself out in the mirror while I cleaned my equipment.
“I have a few more shit to pack. Mav should be here within the hour,” he informed me.
“Just put whatever it is on the bed and I’ll pack the rest while you shower,” I offered.
He kissed my forehead. “Thanks, Dai.”
While he went to bathe, I did what I said I would. I began repacking his luggage since the way he packed it was horrible. By the time he was out of the shower, I was almost finished getting him situated.
Before we knew it, time flew past, and Mav was outside waiting for him. He grabbed his things and headed downstairs with me following behind.
Reaching the ground floor, while he was double-checking that he had everything he needed in his carry-on, I felt my phone buzz. I took a peek at it and saw it was a message from Fabian, so I quickly locked the screen.
“Aight, I’m out.” Milan opened the door to leave but then stopped. “I love you. I’ll be right back, aight?” He grabbed my neck and pulled me in for a deep kiss.
“I love you, too,” I replied as he let me go and walked away.
While Milan was getting in the car, I looked at my phone to see what the message was.
Fabe: So, you gon’ do valet with me?
I bit my lip as I watched the guys drive off, waving at them.
Fuck it, I thought.
Me: Sure. Tomorrow’s cool?
Fabe: If tomorrow's good, why not? I’ll send you the details.
Me: Kk.
“Welcome to Trinidad and Tobago. The local time is eight forty-six a.m.,”the flight attendant announced over the intercom.
Maverick and I gathered our things to join the line exiting the plane. When we got to immigration, the line moved along quickly. We then made our way to customs after collecting our bags. We were literally walking out of the airport within fifteen minutes. It was smaller, so it made sense that we didn’t wait as long as on the US flights.
Stepping outside of the airport, the first thing that hit me was the Trinidad heat. It wasn’t like the New York summer. That heat was different. It was thick, humid, and wrapped aroundyour skin like it wanted to get deep into your pores as if you were in a sauna.
Mav stretched, adjusting his shades, soaking it in too. “Damn,” he muttered with a half-smile. “I forgot how good this shit feels.”
Our cousin Stephon was already outside waiting, posted up by a Toyota with a grin wide enough to split his face. He rushed over and hugged us both hard as hell, like he didn’t want to let go.
“Welcome home. Allyuh hungry?” he asked.
“Hell yeah,” Maverick answered.
