Page 2 of The Millionaire Mortician

“ Y eah, yeah, yeah, nigga. Wrap this shit up. I got somethin’ I gotta do,” I told one of my soldiers.

Instead of getting to the point, muthafuckers loved to over-explain shit.

I had a short patience level. Besides, I was trying to finish my runs to the trap houses, so I could go to the crib and watch Milan’s interview.

I didn’t give a fuck what was going on. I wasn’t missing that shit. With his corny ass , I thought.

I plopped down on my couch and turned on the TV to the E!

channel . Every time Milan did an interview, the next one was always on a bigger and better platform.

I joked a lot about him being crazy and corny because of his career outside of what we do, but I was proud of his ass.

He was great at what he did and deserved anything and everything he desired or had coming his way.

The next few minutes passed by fast as shit.

Before I could blink, the show was starting, and shortly after, Milan made his entrance onto the stage.

I sat back and listened to him answer all the questions professionally and on point.

He was made for shit like that, although he didn’t always want the attention.

I, on the other hand, would’ve eaten that shit up and be in my glee. I loved attention once it was good.

“How did it feel when you became an official millionaire? What was on your mind?” the interviewer asked.

Milan chuckled. “All I thought was that I was free. That my family and I were going to be great. Honestly, I knew it would’ve happened.

Since I started studying to become a mortician, I have become aware of the benefits.

Yes, I wanted to help people rest their loved ones down properly, but I also did my diligence and knew it was the right move. ”

The audience clapped while I just smirked and looked on.

“So, since we’re kind of on the topic, what made you want to become a mortician?”

I sat up in my seat, leaned over, and rested both my forearms on my legs. My eyes were focused on Milan’s as if I were there in the same room.

He was quiet for a moment, as if he were thinking about what to say, then he finally spoke.

“I grew up in a rough neighborhood, where seeing dead bodies was the norm. Out of nowhere, I started to have an obsession with finding out what happens to their body after the coroner picks them up. As I began my research, I became increasingly immersed in it, and here we are.” Milan raised his hands and smiled.

While he didn’t necessarily lie, he didn’t tell the whole truth. The truth was far deeper than anyone could have imagined. The truth not only scarred us, but it also shaped who we became.

Twenty-four years ago in Trinidad and Tobago...

“Doh worry yuh self. Allyuh mudda and fada will come back home. Yuh hear meh?” Uncle Lester assured Milan and me.

It had been a week since they had gone missing. Milan and I were only thirteen at the time, so the family tried to shelter us from what was really going on.

Unbeknownst to them, we knew our father was a very feared kingpin. The kids in our school knew more about our family than we did. Milan and I just never said anything to anyone. We continued to act oblivious.

When our parents went missing, we overheard our uncles and the guys that worked for them speak about it possibly being the rival gang that took them.

That was the last we heard. We prayed day in and day out for their return.

With so many prayers, we almost got it answered one night.

Technically, we did, but not in the way we wanted.

As we were getting settled in bed, there was a loud explosion outside our house. Everyone jumped out of their beds and ran outside. Outside our gate was nothing but smoke and flames. I heard my grandmother on the phone with the fire station almost immediately.

“Get back!” Uncle Lester kept hollering.

Everyone tried inching up to see what it was and what was going on. The place got hot as hell as the smoke made us cough. About ten minutes later, we heard sirens in the distance. Before we knew it, they were in front of our house and jumping into action.

When they were almost finished putting out the fire, we all got closer to the gate, and that’s when we saw it was my father’s SUV.

The fire officers opened the doors and then the trunk.

Their whole body language and demeanor told it all.

Uncle Lester took off running toward the SUV with Milan and me in tow.

What we saw broke all our hearts — it was our parents lying dead in the back of the SUV.

Their faces were unrecognizable, and their bodies looked weird and swollen. It seemed as if the fire truck got there in time because their bodies weren’t burned.

Uncle Lester jumped in the back and pulled a properly wrapped brick out of my father’s stomach.

Once he realized what they’d done — removed my parents’ insides and replaced them with their own drugs, Uncle Lester quickly jumped out of the whip and pushed Milan, me, and any other family members away from the scene, but it was too late.

That image of my mother and father would forever be embedded in my and Milan’s memories.

As I sat there, recollecting what we witnessed at just thirteen years old, I remembered why Milan gained such an interest in being a mortician. He used his pain to become so much more than any of us would’ve known, and I was fucking proud of him.

After Milan’s interview was over, I made my way to my dealership to get some other shit done. By the time I reached Williamsburg, it was going on two o’clock in the afternoon. The dealership was busy with customers... a sight I loved to see.

My place of business wasn’t for just everyone.

It was a high-end luxury dealership featuring a diverse selection of foreign cars.

Only the wealthy were allowed to set foot in my place.

Doing so helped minimize people wasting my workers’ time when they know they can’t afford a car from me, and it also helps keep any opps out.

You must be vetted before gaining entry.

As I walked through, I greeted everyone I saw on my way to my office. Once inside, I sat in my high, dark brown leather chair and took some deep breaths in and out. Before I could move another inch, my door swung open with the speed of light.

“Mr. Marcano, I need you to sign this,” my secretary, Deyonna, demanded.

Deyonna had been working for me for a few years. She knew what I would want, how I wanted things done, and knew the ropes of the business. Deyonna was able to run the company in my absence, so whatever she needed signed, I knew I didn’t have to look at it. I just had to sign it.

I waved her in. “Bring it,” I told her.

She raced over and rested the paper in front of me. I looked for where my signature was needed and scribbled away.

“Thank you,” she sang and ran back out of the office.

Before the door could fully close, it reopened, but that time it was Milan.

I stood from my seat and rounded the desk. “Good shit today, bro,” I complimented as we dapped each other up and embraced.

He tapped my back. “Good lookin’, bro.”

As we broke our embrace, I went back and sat behind my desk while he went and got comfortable on the sofa I had in the office.

Silence filled the room for a while before either of us spoke.

My mind was on his interview and what he really wished he could’ve said.

I knew it was the same thing he was quietly thinking about as well.

Whenever something triggered us to think about our past, we would get into a certain mood, and it was evident that we were in that place.

“You gucci, bro?” I finally spoke up and asked.

Milan shifted in his seat and stared straight forward with his index finger covering his lip. “Honestly, my nigga, I don’t know,” he answered.

“Hmmm. I felt that.”

The room went silent again for a few moments. “Ain’t it crazy that the shit feels like it happened yesterday?” he questioned with a confused expression.

“Mommy and Dad?” I wanted to confirm we were on the same page.

“Yeah.” He finally looked at me.

“It is crazy. It’s been two and a half decades, and it’s still fresh in my mind,” I told him.

Knock. Knock.

Someone at the door interrupted our conversation. I wasn’t sure if it was rude or for the best. The moment was heavy, and it always did something to us.

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 do what 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.