Page 49 of The Millionaire Mortician
Grabbing my things, I exited the truck, locked the doors, and made my way to the front of the house. As I was climbing the steps, the house door opened with Milan standing there, shirtless, with only basketball shorts on. I glanced at his face since I didn’t want to make eye contact, but I saw he was furious.
I walked past him into the house, then took off my sneakers. By the time he closed the door and locked it, he was on my ass. His hand wrapped around my neck and slammed me against the wall. The same wall he had me pinned against, ready to fuck my guts out, but that time, it was for another reason.
“Do you know I would kill you if you ever crossed me?” he asked in a low tone in my ear.
His grip on my neck tightened, making it hard to breathe. I started crying immediately.
“How the fuck do you know Frost?” he asked the same question Maverick did.
Obviously, by then, I knew the Frost person they spoke of was really Fabian.
“He-he, he’s a...” I tapped at his hand so he could loosen his grip for me to speak, and he did, just a little. “He’s a client,” I quickly answered.
“Client from where, Daija? Don’t fuck with me.”
“Someone referred him to me, and he’d been coming ever since. That’s it!”
He finally released his hold on me but never took those cold eyes off of me.
“What’s going on?” I asked, trying to catch my breath.
Milan stepped back and rubbed his neck. “Listen, Dai. There are things you don’t know and you don’t need to know. But that nigga cannot be trusted, and his days as your client are over. I better not hear or see him anywhere near your shit or you,” Milan ran down. “Do you hear me?” He raised his voice.
I nodded. “Yes,” I answered as tears streamed down my face.
Without uttering another word, Milan took off down the hall to his office. There was no further explanation, nor even an apology. He’d never put his hands on me before, nor did Maverick ever threaten my life. Whatever they had against Fabian had to be serious. I was just praying to God that things didn’t get out about him and me, because that would’ve been a whole different story, and not a happy ending one.
Out of all fucking barbers in big ass New York, that nigga Frost had to pick my lady? I was so confused about how that connection had even happened. Did he know who she was, or was it really an innocent coincidence? The universe had a funny way of fucking with me.
The whole situation wasn’t sitting right with me. At that point, I honestly didn’t know what to believe or who to trust besides Maverick. Granted, I loved Daija, but she was disposable to me. We’ve only been rocking for a little over a year, so she still didn’t have my full trust. We’d never gone through anything for her to prove her absolute loyalty.
“Milly... Milly...” I heard Mav’s voice pulling me from deep in my thoughts.
“Yo.” I looked at him.
We were chilling in my office at the funeral home, chopping it up. Although my mind was messed up, business had to continue as usual.
“What’s good, nigga?”
I hung my head and shook it slow. “I ain’t gon’ hold you, bro. This shit’s fuckin’ wit’ me. Like, how did that shit really happen? I need answers ASAP,” I ranted.
“Shorty said it was from a referral from another barber. The only other way to find out is to ask the nigga flat out.”
I looked at Mav with the quickness because he put an idea in my head. “Say less. Let’s pull up on him.”
Mav stood to his feet and motioned his hands as if he were saying,pump your brakes. “Aye, chill, man. We got other pressing matters to handle, and then we can circle back. Fuck that nigga, and if she on some shiesty shit, fuck her too.”
“Aight, ease up on Daija for now until we know for sure. Now what if she’s really innocent in all this? You already put a gun to her head, and I done choked her to death.” I shook my head.
If Daija was indeed not guilty of anything, I was going to have to try to forgive myself for how Maverick and I treated her. All we knew was to act or shoot first, then ask questions later. She was no different under the circumstances.
Mav looked at me blankly and just shrugged. “Guilty until proven innocent,” he asserted in a serious tone. “On another note, Reese received his sample, and he’s locked in with us. So, you know the cold breeze will blow our way once he finds out,” he informed me, referring to Frost as the cold breeze.
“Word? That’s wassup. And right now, fuck him and everything he’s got going on.”
Mav looked at me with wild eyes. I was usually the calm, laid-back one trying to find ways to be rational, but since my girl was somewhat involved, I was on whatever timing niggas wanted to be on.
“Any word on what that nigga Dave’s been up to?” I wanted to make sure we covered everything.
